The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Including His Melodies, Ballads, Etc., Complete in One VolumeJ. Crissy, 1838 - 419 pages |
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Page 29
... O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich moresque - work of the roof of gold , Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise , Where , through the silken net - work , glancing ...
... O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows . Between the porphyry pillars , that uphold The rich moresque - work of the roof of gold , Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise , Where , through the silken net - work , glancing ...
Page 30
... o'er thy brow can wave ; But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! " The pomp is at an end , -the crowds are gone → · . Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like ALLA's own ! The young ...
... o'er thy brow can wave ; But , once my own , mine all till in the grave ! " The pomp is at an end , -the crowds are gone → · . Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone Of that deep voice , which thrill'd like ALLA's own ! The young ...
Page 32
... o'er the yawning wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood ...
... o'er the yawning wave , But not to point the harbour which might save . Hours of delight and peace , long left behind , With that dear form came rushing o'er her mind ; But oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone In shame and falsehood ...
Page 33
... o'er Hell's gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . " Ha , my fair Priestess ! " - thus , with ready wile , Th ' impostor turn'd to greet her- " thou , whose smile ...
... o'er Hell's gate is read , That , new as ' twas from her , whom nought could dim Or sink till now , it startled even him . " Ha , my fair Priestess ! " - thus , with ready wile , Th ' impostor turn'd to greet her- " thou , whose smile ...
Page 37
... o'er her beauteous brow , In its young bashfulness more beauteous now ; But a light , golden chain - work round her hair , Such as the maids of YEZD and SHIRAZ wear From which , on either side , gracefully hung A golden amulet , in th ...
... o'er her beauteous brow , In its young bashfulness more beauteous now ; But a light , golden chain - work round her hair , Such as the maids of YEZD and SHIRAZ wear From which , on either side , gracefully hung A golden amulet , in th ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anacreon ancient angels bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breath bright brow burning called Catullus charm cheek Cicero creon dark dear death delight divine dream e'en e'er earth Epicurus epigram eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flowers friends glory glow grace Haram hath heart heaven holy hope hour Ireland Irish King kiss LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's lover lute lyre maid Moore morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once Persian Pindar Plato Plutarch poem poet rose round Sappho seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep smile song soul sparkling spirit sweet tears tell thee There's thine thing THOMAS MOORE thou thought throne turn'd Twas warm wave weep wild wings words young youth δε και
Popular passages
Page 362 - DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S TEAR. (AiR. — HAYDN.) •' He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." — Psalm cxlvii. 3. OH Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear. How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee. The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown ; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone.
Page 319 - Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love. Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace ! ST SENANUS AND THE LADY.
Page 354 - Those joyous hours are passed away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells ! Moore.
Page 139 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, " If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Page 59 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die...
Page 362 - Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ! • Thomas Moore, 1779—1852.
Page 52 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Page 334 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead. So soon may...
Page 363 - SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ! Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Sing, — for the pride of the tyrant is broken, His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, — How vain was their boasting ! the Lord hath but spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea I Jehovah has triumphed, — his people are free ! Prai.se to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord ! His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword.
Page 319 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.