The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Including His Melodies, Ballads, Etc: Complete in One Volume

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A. and W. Galignani, 1829 - 408 من الصفحات
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الصفحة 328 - 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 ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
الصفحة 313 - Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. Thou hast...
الصفحة 293 - Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh! stay, — Oh! stay, — Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that, oh ! 'tis pain To break its links so soon.
الصفحة 382 - Th' imperfect picture o'er again, With power to add, retouch, efface The lights and shades, the joy and pain, How little of the past would stay ! How quickly all should melt away — All — but that freedom of the mind Which hath been more than wealth to me ; Those friendships, in my boyhood twined, And kept till now unchangingly ; And that dear home, that saving ark, Where Love's true light at last I 've found, Cheering within, when all grows dark, And comfortless, and stormy round ! FANCY.
الصفحة 105 - May be the lot, the life of him, Who roams along thy water's brim ! Through what alternate shades of woe, And flowers of joy my path may go ! How many an humble, still retreat May rise to court my weary feet, While still pursuing, still unblest, I wander on, nor dare to rest...
الصفحة 293 - 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. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
الصفحة 340 - 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. When youthful spring around us breathes, Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; And every flower the summer wreathes Is born beneath that kindling eye. Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine.
الصفحة 260 - WITH all my soul, then, let us part, Since both are anxious to be free ; And I will send you home your heart, If you will send back mine to me. We've had some happy hours together, But joy must often change its wing; And spring would be but gloomy weather, If we had nothing else but spring.
الصفحة 26 - And now — behold him kneeling there By the child's side, in humble prayer, While the same sunbeam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one, And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven The triumph of a soul forgiven...
الصفحة 2 - And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze That whole dark pile of human mockeries ; — Then shall the reign of Mind commence on earth, And starting fresh, as from a second birth, Man, in. the sunshine of the world's new spring, Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing...

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