Thomas Moore |
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admiration Anacreon appears AUGUSTINE BIRRELL beautiful Bermuda Bessy Byron Captain Rock Catholic criticism dear Diary dinner Dublin Dublin edition Emmet English expressed fame father feel friendship G. K. CHESTERTON gave give heart honour hope Ireland Irish Melodies Jeffrey Kilkenny kind Lady Donegal Lalla Rookh later least less letter literary lived London Longmans Lord Edward Fitzgerald Lord John Russell Lord Lansdowne Lord Moira lyric Memoirs metre mind Miss Godfrey months Moore wrote Moore's mother Murray Music naturally never o'er Paris passage passion pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry political Power prose Protestant published rhyme Rogers satire Scott seems Sheridan singing Sir LESLIE STEPHEN sister Sloperton society song spirit STEPHEN GWYNN sweet talent taste thee thing Thomas Moore thought thousand guineas tion verse volume Whig wife words writing written young
Popular passages
Page 3 - When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.
Page 5 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Page 163 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Page 3 - Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, Whom but a day's, an hour's success Had wafted to eternal fame...
Page 168 - 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...
Page 162 - 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.
Page 122 - Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate ; And whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate. Though the ocean roar around me, Yet it still shall bear me on ; Though a desert should surround me, It hath springs that may be won.
Page 168 - That ev'n 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 ! Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers, Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine ; If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone ; I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over, And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own.
Page 78 - Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, Its temples, and grottos, and fountains as clear As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? Oh! to see it at sunset, — when warm o'er the Lake Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws, Like a bride, full of blushes, when ling'ring to take A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes...
Page 165 - THE YOUNG MAY MOON. THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove *, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! 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...