The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: With a Memoir, Volume 2Houghton, Mifflin, 1855 |
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Pagina 5
... hands these political trifles , ― " This swarm of themes that settled on my pen , Which I , like summer - flies , shake off again , ” - - — without venturing to add that I have now to con- nect with them one mournful recollection - -one ...
... hands these political trifles , ― " This swarm of themes that settled on my pen , Which I , like summer - flies , shake off again , ” - - — without venturing to add that I have now to con- nect with them one mournful recollection - -one ...
Pagina 6
... hand at such trifles , there is one no less characteristic of his good - nature than his wit , as it accompanied a copy of the octavo edi- tion of Bayle , * which , on hearing me rejoice one day that so agreeable an author had been at ...
... hand at such trifles , there is one no less characteristic of his good - nature than his wit , as it accompanied a copy of the octavo edi- tion of Bayle , * which , on hearing me rejoice one day that so agreeable an author had been at ...
Pagina 13
... payment in specie : - - " finem , specie cæleste resumtâ , Luctibus imposuit , ventque salutifer urbi . " Honourable Frederick Robinson . Met . 1. 15. v . 743 . The day is at hand , my Papyria * Venus SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS . 13.
... payment in specie : - - " finem , specie cæleste resumtâ , Luctibus imposuit , ventque salutifer urbi . " Honourable Frederick Robinson . Met . 1. 15. v . 743 . The day is at hand , my Papyria * Venus SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS . 13.
Pagina 14
With a Memoir Thomas Moore. The day is at hand , my Papyria * Venus , When high as we once us'd to carry our ca- - pers Those soft billet - doux we're now passing between us , Will serve but to keep Mrs. Coutts in curl - papers : And ...
With a Memoir Thomas Moore. The day is at hand , my Papyria * Venus , When high as we once us'd to carry our ca- - pers Those soft billet - doux we're now passing between us , Will serve but to keep Mrs. Coutts in curl - papers : And ...
Pagina 29
... Hands round ! why the deuce should we stop ? " Tis all in the family way . My labourers used to eat mutton , As any great man of the State does ; And now the poor devils are put on Small rations of tea and potatoes . But cheer up , John ...
... Hands round ! why the deuce should we stop ? " Tis all in the family way . My labourers used to eat mutton , As any great man of the State does ; And now the poor devils are put on Small rations of tea and potatoes . But cheer up , John ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Arranmore bard battle of Clontarf beam beautiful Benthamite Bishops bless bliss bower breath bright bring brow Brunswick charm Church cloud cold craythur dark dear dream e'er earth echoes Erin ev'n eyes fame farewell feel flowers friends Fudge glory gone Goulbourn Harp hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour hurra Ireland Irish late leave light lips live look look'd Lord Lord Lyndhurst Love's lute maid morning ne'er never night o'er once OVID Papists pass'd Peers poor quadrille reverend Robert Emmet round Saint shine shore sigh sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul spirit Sprite star sweet tears tell thee there's thine things THOMAS MOORE thou art thought thro Tithe Tory turn'd Twas Twill Twixt voice weep Whig wings young youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 205 - 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.
Pagina 84 - OH ! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove ; When my dream of life from morn till night Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
Pagina 271 - But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, GOD, from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, To hold my course to Thee ! No sin to cloud, no lure to stay My Soul, as home she springs ; — Thy Sunshine on her joyful way, Thy Freedom in her wings ! FALLEN IS THY THRONE.
Pagina 49 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. r\n I breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid ; Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Pagina 56 - One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes. To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting...
Pagina 105 - 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 I follow, When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle The gems drop away ! When true hearts lie wither'd, And fond ones are flown, Oh ! who would inhabit This bleak world alone ? The young May moon, •
Pagina 269 - THOU art, O God ! the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see ; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
Pagina 56 - 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.
Pagina 50 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.
Pagina 275 - 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.