The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore: Juvenile poems ; Poems relating to AmericaLongman, Orme, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1840 |
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Page 10
... take my trembling way , Unseen but to those worlds above , And , led by thy mysterious ray , Steal to the night - bower of my love . TO MRS . ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF VOITURE'S KISS 10 JUVENILE POEMS . Visit to Staffa and Iona.
... take my trembling way , Unseen but to those worlds above , And , led by thy mysterious ray , Steal to the night - bower of my love . TO MRS . ON HER BEAUTIFUL TRANSLATION OF VOITURE'S KISS 10 JUVENILE POEMS . Visit to Staffa and Iona.
Page 37
... bowers , And deck'd her robe , and crown'd her head With motley bridal flowers . The matrons all in rich attire , Within the castle walls , Sat listening to the choral strains That echo'd through the halls . Young Rupert and his friends ...
... bowers , And deck'd her robe , and crown'd her head With motley bridal flowers . The matrons all in rich attire , Within the castle walls , Sat listening to the choral strains That echo'd through the halls . Young Rupert and his friends ...
Page 61
... bower , The business of my life shall be , For ever to remember thee . And though that heart be dead to mine , Since Love is life and wakes not thine , I'll take thy image , as the form Of one whom Love had fail'd to warm , Which ...
... bower , The business of my life shall be , For ever to remember thee . And though that heart be dead to mine , Since Love is life and wakes not thine , I'll take thy image , as the form Of one whom Love had fail'd to warm , Which ...
Page 63
... bower , And I will fold thee in such downy dreams As lap the Spirit of the Seventh Sphere , When Luna's distant tone falls faintly on his ear ! * qu'il porte sur le dos des lignes noirâtres pleines de notes , qui ont une espèce de clé ...
... bower , And I will fold thee in such downy dreams As lap the Spirit of the Seventh Sphere , When Luna's distant tone falls faintly on his ear ! * qu'il porte sur le dos des lignes noirâtres pleines de notes , qui ont une espèce de clé ...
Page 69
... bower * , Where the rapt Samian slept his holy slumber ? When , free " From every earthly chain , From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain , His spirit flew through fields above , Drank at the source of nature's fontal number ...
... bower * , Where the rapt Samian slept his holy slumber ? When , free " From every earthly chain , From wreaths of pleasure and from bonds of pain , His spirit flew through fields above , Drank at the source of nature's fontal number ...
Common terms and phrases
Achilles Tatius ancient Aristippus beams beauty beneath Bermuda blest bliss bloom blushing bosom bower breath breath'd breeze bright brow Catullus charm cheek Cicero Corycian Cave dear dearest Dismal Swamp Dithyrambic divine dream e'er earth Epicurean Epicurus ev'n fair fancy Fanny feel flowers French Encyclopédistes friends glowing happy harp hath heart heaven heptachord hour hung Iamblichus isles kiss Leontium light lonely look look'd lov'd Lyre magic maid mind morning ne'er never night nymph o'er pass'd Pausanias philosophers Pindar Plato pleasure Plutarch Poems Psyche pure Pythagoras ring round rove Rupert seem'd shade shed shine sigh sleep slumber smile song soul spirit Stoics sweet tear tell thee thine thought trembling truth Twas wave weep wild wing wonderful youth δε και μεν τε ΤΟ 米米
Popular passages
Page 6 - Boy's Country Book: Being the Real Life of a Country Boy, written by himself; exhibiting all the Amusements, Pleasures, and Pursuits of Children in the Country. New Edition ; with 40 Woodcuts. Fcp. 8vo. price 6s. Howitt. -The Rural Life of England.
Page 324 - Row, brothers, row ! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl ; But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow ! the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past ! Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Page 6 - Visits to Remarkable Places : Old Halls, Battle-Fields, and Scenes illustrative of Striking Passages in English History and Poetry. By WILLIAM HOWITT. 2 vols. square crown 8vo. with Wood Engravings, 25s. The Rural Life of England.
Page 322 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Page 320 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, "If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Page 316 - Dennie has succeeded in diffusing through this cultivated little circle that love for good literature and sound politics, which he feels so zealously himself, and which is so very rarely the characteristic of his countrymen. They will not, I trust, accuse me of illiberality for the picture which I have given of the ignorance and corruption that surround them.
Page 338 - There lieth a wreck on the dismal shore Of cold and pitiless Labrador ; Where, under the moon, upon mounts of frost, Full many a mariner's bones are tost ! Von shadowy Bark hath been to that wreck, And the dim blue fire that lights her deck Doth play on as pale and livid a crew, As ever yet drank the churchyard dew ! To...
Page 304 - Nor did woman — oh woman ! whose form and whose soul Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue ! Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too ! Nor did she her enamouring magic deny, That magic.
Page 321 - How blest could I live, and how calm could I die ! By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, Which had never been sigh'd on by any but mine !
Page 289 - tis heartless, speculative ill, All youth's transgression with all age's chill, The apathy of wrong, the bosom's ice, A slow and cold stagnation into vice ! Long has the love of gold, that meanest rage, And latest folly of man's sinking age, Which, rarely venturing in the van of life, While nobler passions wage their heated strife, Comes skulking last, with selfishness and fear, And dies, collecting lumber in the rear ! Long has it palsied every grasping hand And greedy spirit through this bartering...