The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: With a Memoir, Volumen2Houghton, Mifflin, 1855 |
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Página 5
... lives the flight of the shaft . I cannot dismiss from my 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 ...
... lives the flight of the shaft . I cannot dismiss from my 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 ...
Página 14
... live together ? " Like your sex , fond of change , " With Silver you can range , * So called , to distinguish her from the " Aurea Venus . 99 or Golde And of lots of young sixpences be mother ; " 14 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS .
... live together ? " Like your sex , fond of change , " With Silver you can range , * So called , to distinguish her from the " Aurea Venus . 99 or Golde And of lots of young sixpences be mother ; " 14 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS .
Página 89
... lives But we read , in some amiable trials , How husbands make love to their wives Through the medium of hemp and of phials . One thinks , with his mistress or mate A good halter is sure to agree That love - knot which , early and late ...
... lives But we read , in some amiable trials , How husbands make love to their wives Through the medium of hemp and of phials . One thinks , with his mistress or mate A good halter is sure to agree That love - knot which , early and late ...
Página 102
... Lives " rage ) 1828 . are the The whole Reminiscences , wond'rous and strange , Of a small puppy - dog , that liv'd once in the cage Of the late noble Lion at Exeter ' Change . Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call " sad , " " T ...
... Lives " rage ) 1828 . are the The whole Reminiscences , wond'rous and strange , Of a small puppy - dog , that liv'd once in the cage Of the late noble Lion at Exeter ' Change . Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call " sad , " " T ...
Página 112
... lives away " In " Like summer windmills , doom'd to dusty peace , " When the brisk gales , that lent them motion , cease " Ah , little knew we then what ills await " Much - lauded scribblers in their after - state ; The classical term ...
... lives away " In " Like summer windmills , doom'd to dusty peace , " When the brisk gales , that lent them motion , cease " Ah , little knew we then what ills await " Much - lauded scribblers in their after - state ; The classical term ...
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Términos y frases comunes
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
Pasajes populares
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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...
Página 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, •
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.