The works of Thomas Moore (Google eBook)

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Page 303 - Alas how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love ! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm, when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships, that have gone down at sea, When Heaven was all tranquillity...
Page 64 - 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 ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm BENDEMEER.
Page 63 - twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER...
Page 156 - mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath daybeam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that...
Page xxxix - Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis...
Page 135 - PARADISE AND THE PERI. ONE morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; And as she listened to the Springs Of Life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place !
Page 149 - I'd shed it all, To give thy brow one minute's calm. Nay, turn not from me that dear face Am I not thine thy own loved bride The one, the chosen one, whose place In life or death is by thy side ! Think'st thou that she, whose only light, In this dim world, from thee hath shone, Could bear the long, the cheerless night, That must be hers, when thou art gone ? That I can live, and let thee go, Who art my life itself? No, no When the stem dies, the leaf that grew Out of its heart...
Page 159 - Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace ?
Page 158 - Lisping th' eternal name of God From purity's own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again...
Page 141 - Downward the Peri turns her gaze, And through the war-field's bloody haze Beholds a youthful warrior stand Alone beside his native river. The red blade broken in his hand And the last arrow in his quiver. "Live," said the conqueror, "live to share The trophies and the crowns I bear!

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