The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, Том 4Little, Brown & Company, 1856 |
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Arranmore bard battle of Clontarf beam Beauty bliss bloom bower breath bright bring brow chain charm children of Israel cloud cold dark dear death dream e'er earth Edward Hudson Erin ev'n eyes fade fair farewell feel flowers friends glory gondolier gone Harp hast hath heart Heaven hope hour Innisfail Ireland Irish Irish Harp isle leave life's light lips look look'd LORD Lord Edward Fitzgerald love thee Love's lute maid Melodies moon morning mountains ne'er never night o'er once pain pleasure pleasure's Robert Emmet rose Rose-tree round shine Ship ahoy shore sigh silent sing sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul spirit Sprite star steal sunny sunshine sweet tears tell there's thine THOMAS MOORE thou art thought thro turn'd Twas voice wake wave weep wings young youth
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Стр. 56 - THE MEETING OF THE WATERS. 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.
Стр. 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...
Стр. 106 - Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
Стр. 295 - Lift up thine eyes round about, and see : all they gather themselves together, they come to thee : thy sons shall come from far, and thy daughters shall be nursed at thy side.
Стр. 130 - That even in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy numbers, This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine.
Стр. 51 - 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. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
Стр. 129 - Dear Harp of my Country ! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song ! The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; But, so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness, That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
Стр. 85 - 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.
Стр. 278 - I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown, All light and silence, like thy Throne ; And the pale stars shall be, at night, The only eyes that watch my rite.
Стр. 126 - And such is the fate of our life's early promise, So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known ; Each wave, that we danced on at morning, ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.