The Works of Thomas Moore, Esq, Volume 3G. Smith, 1825 - 6 pages |
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Page 15
Thomas Moore. What muse shall mourn the breathless brave , n sweetest dirge at memory's shrine ; * Vhat harp shall sigh o'er Freedom's grave ? — Oh ! Erin , thine . ( Melancholy Irish Air , succeeded by a lively one . ) Blest notes of ...
Thomas Moore. What muse shall mourn the breathless brave , n sweetest dirge at memory's shrine ; * Vhat harp shall sigh o'er Freedom's grave ? — Oh ! Erin , thine . ( Melancholy Irish Air , succeeded by a lively one . ) Blest notes of ...
Page 17
... memory the dip of our oars in the St. Law- rence , the flight of our boat down the Rapids , and all those new and fanciful impressions to which my heart was alive during the whole of this very in- teresting voyage . The above stanzas ...
... memory the dip of our oars in the St. Law- rence , the flight of our boat down the Rapids , and all those new and fanciful impressions to which my heart was alive during the whole of this very in- teresting voyage . The above stanzas ...
Page 25
... memory of the past will stay , And half our joys renew . Then , Cloe , when thy beauty's flower Shall feel the wintry air , Remembrance will recall the hour When thou alone wert fair . Then talk no more of future gloom , Our joys shall ...
... memory of the past will stay , And half our joys renew . Then , Cloe , when thy beauty's flower Shall feel the wintry air , Remembrance will recall the hour When thou alone wert fair . Then talk no more of future gloom , Our joys shall ...
Page 26
... memory gild the past . But mark , at thought of future years , When love shall lose its soul , My Cloe drops her timid tears , They mingle with my bowl ! How like this bowl of wine , my fair , Our loving life shall fleet , Though tears ...
... memory gild the past . But mark , at thought of future years , When love shall lose its soul , My Cloe drops her timid tears , They mingle with my bowl ! How like this bowl of wine , my fair , Our loving life shall fleet , Though tears ...
Page 28
... of blissful de- light , Which dwells on her memory yet ? Do they flow , like the dews of the love breath- ing night , From the warmth of the sun that has set ? Oh ! sweet is the tear on that languishing smile 28 MELODIES .
... of blissful de- light , Which dwells on her memory yet ? Do they flow , like the dews of the love breath- ing night , From the warmth of the sun that has set ? Oh ! sweet is the tear on that languishing smile 28 MELODIES .
Common terms and phrases
battle of Clontarf beam beauty beneath Bermuda blest bliss bloom blush bosom bower bowl breath breath'd bright brow calm chain charm cloud cold dark daylight dies dear dearest death Dismal Swamp dream e'en e'er earth Erin ev'ry eyes fade fair fame Farewell feel flame flowers Glendalough glory glowing harp hath heart heaven Hero's heart hope hour Ireland Irish Irish poetry isle Kilkenny kiss leaves Lesbia light lips live look'd looks lov'd Love's lover lute maid Merrily oh moonlight morning ne'er never night o'er once Planxty Red Branch remember roses round scribble-hy shade shed shine sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sparkle spirit star steal sweet tears tell thee there's thine THOMAS MOORE thou art thou hast thought Twas twill Voice wander warm wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 100 - 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.
Page 243 - When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes : That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord, are Thine.
Page 90 - They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. "And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see And her paddle I soon shall hear; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near.
Page 77 - And oh ! if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this...
Page 98 - Nature embellish'd the tint Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair, Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print The footstep of slavery there? No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, Go, tell our invaders, the Danes, That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, Than to sleep but a moment in chains.
Page 101 - OH ! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! 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.
Page 83 - 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 259 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken...
Page 102 - With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Every thought of my reason was thine : In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine...
Page 174 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.