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Alhama ANACREON Argostoli Athens bard beam beauty behold beneath blest bliss blood bosom breast breath brow Calmar canst CATULLUS cease chief Countess Guiccioli dare dark dead dear death Dorset dream Drury dwell earth expire eyes fair fame farewell fate fear feel fire flame flow foes fond forget friendship gaze gloomy glory glow grave Greece Harrow hast hath heart heaven hope hour kiss lady Latian live Lochlin Lord Byron Lord Henry Petty love's last adieu lyre Mathon mingle Moore Morven mourn Murray ne'er never Newstead Newstead Abbey night numbers o'er once Orla Oscar pangs passion perchance pibroch poem praise pride Probus remember resign rise roll scene shade sigh sleep smile song soothe soul spirit stanzas sweet tears thee thine Thomas Moore thou art thought throng tomb truth verses voice wave weep wing young youth
Page 353 - So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
Page 211 - WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss ; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow — It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame ; I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear ; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear...
Page 219 - Near this spot are deposited the Remains of one, who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, and all the Virtues of Man, without his Vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of BOATSWAIN, A DOG, who was born in Newfoundland, May, 1803, and died at Newstead, Nov.
Page 310 - Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.
Page 273 - TO A LADY WEEPING.* WEEP, daughter of a royal line, A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay ; Ah ! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father's fault away ! Weep — for thy tears are Virtue's tears — Auspicious to these suffering isles ; And be each drop in future years Repaid thee by thy people's smiles ! THE CHAIN I GAVE.
Page 391 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys, Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile!
Page 325 - They slept on the abyss without a surge — The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The Moon, their mistress, had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the Stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them — She was the Universe.
Page 330 - A mighty lesson we inherit: Thou art a symbol and a sign To Mortals of their fate and force; Like thee, Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source...
Page 333 - BRIGHT be the place of thy soul ! No lovelier spirit than thine E'er burst from its mortal control, In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine, As thy soul shall immortally be ; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee.