The Works of Thomas Moore, Esq, Том 3G. Smith, 1825 - Всего страниц: 6 |
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Стр. iii
... them to be performed , and that most of that peculiarity of charac- ter , which , I believe they possess , as I sing them myself , is lost in the process they must • undergo for publication ; but the truth is , PREFACE. ...
... them to be performed , and that most of that peculiarity of charac- ter , which , I believe they possess , as I sing them myself , is lost in the process they must • undergo for publication ; but the truth is , PREFACE. ...
Стр. iv
... that is wrong , but I am sorry to say that enough to thishgree with him , and have sometimes lost to all sense of musical rectitude , as to take ne'succession of fifths ! ple haps the mortification I now and then suffer , in IV PREFACE .
... that is wrong , but I am sorry to say that enough to thishgree with him , and have sometimes lost to all sense of musical rectitude , as to take ne'succession of fifths ! ple haps the mortification I now and then suffer , in IV PREFACE .
Стр. v
... lost on the way . Wherever I have been content to remain simply in the key in which I began , without wandering from home in seach of discords and chromatics , I have not only been independent of critical aid , but the strains I have ...
... lost on the way . Wherever I have been content to remain simply in the key in which I began , without wandering from home in seach of discords and chromatics , I have not only been independent of critical aid , but the strains I have ...
Стр. 23
... lost its fleetness . Years were days , when here we stray'd , Days were moments near her ; Heav'n ne'er form'd a brighter Maid , Nor Pity wept a dearer ! Here's the Bower she lov'd so much , And the tree she planted ; Here's the Harp ...
... lost its fleetness . Years were days , when here we stray'd , Days were moments near her ; Heav'n ne'er form'd a brighter Maid , Nor Pity wept a dearer ! Here's the Bower she lov'd so much , And the tree she planted ; Here's the Harp ...
Стр. 43
... That shines o'er sorrow's tear . Nothing is lost on him that sees With an eye that feeling gave ; For him there's a story in ev'ry breeze , And a picture in ev'ry wave . Then sing , to lighten the languid way ; When MELODIES . 43.
... That shines o'er sorrow's tear . Nothing is lost on him that sees With an eye that feeling gave ; For him there's a story in ev'ry breeze , And a picture in ev'ry wave . Then sing , to lighten the languid way ; When MELODIES . 43.
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
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
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Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 77 - And oh ! if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this...
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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.