The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, Volume 6

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Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1841

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Page 78 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year...
Page 168 - And now behold him kneeling there By the child's side, in humble prayer, While the same sun-beam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one, And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven \ The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! \ 'Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they linger'd yet...
Page 78 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S' stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Page 219 - Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Whom but a day's, an hour's success Had wafted to eternal fame...
Page 153 - said the pitying Spirit, " Dearly ye pay for your primal fall, Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, But the trail of the Serpent is over them all...
Page 160 - 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 161 - Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright, As they were all alive with light; And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, With their rich restless wings, that gleam Variously in the crimson beam Of the warm west as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span The unclouded skies of Peristan.
Page 145 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Page 162 - Banqueting through the flowery vales ;And JORDAN, those sweet banks of thine, And woods so full of nightingales ! But nought can charm the luckless PERI : Her soul is sad her wings are weary Joyless she sees the sun look down On that great temple, once his own, Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high, Like dials, which the wizard, Time, Had raised to count his ages by...
Page 118 - Th' impostor now, in grinning mockery, shows "There, ye wise saints, behold your Light, your Star, Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are.

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