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
... singing them myself , however , I pay no such deference to criticism , but usually give both air and harmo- ny , according to my own first conception of them , with all their original faults , but , at the same time , all their original ...
... singing them myself , however , I pay no such deference to criticism , but usually give both air and harmo- ny , according to my own first conception of them , with all their original faults , but , at the same time , all their original ...
Стр. vi
... singing them . The time , indeed , should always be made to wait upon the feeling , but particu- larly in this style of musical recitation , where the words ought to be as nearly spoken as is consistent with the swell and sweetnesss of ...
... singing them . The time , indeed , should always be made to wait upon the feeling , but particu- larly in this style of musical recitation , where the words ought to be as nearly spoken as is consistent with the swell and sweetnesss of ...
Стр. vii
... too much egotism ; and perhaps , " next to singing , the most foolish thing " Is gravely to harangue on what we sing ! " THOMAS MOORE . Mayheld - Cottage , Ashbourn . MORE'S MELODIES . ON NATIONAL MUSIC . A MELOLOGUE . PREFACE . vii.
... too much egotism ; and perhaps , " next to singing , the most foolish thing " Is gravely to harangue on what we sing ! " THOMAS MOORE . Mayheld - Cottage , Ashbourn . MORE'S MELODIES . ON NATIONAL MUSIC . A MELOLOGUE . PREFACE . vii.
Стр. 12
... sings , along the darkling waste of snow , As blithe as if the blessed light Of vernal Phœbus burn'd upon his brow . Oh Music ! thy celestial claim Is still resistless , still the same ; And , faithful as the mighty sea To the pale star ...
... sings , along the darkling waste of snow , As blithe as if the blessed light Of vernal Phœbus burn'd upon his brow . Oh Music ! thy celestial claim Is still resistless , still the same ; And , faithful as the mighty sea To the pale star ...
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.