Thomas Moore

May 28, 1780 - Feb 26, 1852


First Lines of Thomas Moore

A beam of tranquility smil'd in the west,A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sighAll that's bright must fade, --Alone in crowds to wander on,And whose immortal hand could shedAs a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow,As slow our ship her foamy trackAs vanquished Erin wept besideAt night, when all is still around,At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I flyAvenging and bright fell the swift sword of Erin,Away, away, you men of rules,Away, away, you're all the same,Behold, my love, the curious gemBelieve me, if all those endearing young charmsBy that Lake whose gloomy shoreBy the Feal's wave benighted,By the hope within us springing,Chloris, I swear, by all I ever swore,Come o'er the sea,Come, chase that starting tear away,Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,Come, send round the wine, and leave points of beliefCome, tell me where the maid is found,Conceal'd within the shady woodCupid, whose lamp has lent the rayDear Harp of my country, in darkness I found thee,Down in the valley come meet me to-night,Drink to her who longErin! the tear and the smile in thine eyesFaintly as tolls the evening chime,Fairest! put on awhileFarewell! but whenever you welcome the hourFill me, boy, as deep a draughtFill the bumper fair!Flow on, thou shining river;Fly not yet, 'tis just the hourFrom dread Leucadia's frowning steep,From this hour the pledge is given,Go to your prisons -- though the air of springGo, then -- 'tis vain to hoverGolden hues of youth are fled;Hark! the vesper bell is stealingHas sorrow thy young days shadedHow dear to me the hour when daylight dies,How oft a cloud, with envious veil,How oft has the Banshee cried!How sweet the answer Echo makesI care not for the idle stateI could resign that eye of blue,I fear that love disturbs my rest,I found her not -- the chamber seem'dI knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'dI know thou lovest a brimming measure,I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,I saw thy form in youthful prime,I stole along the flowery bank,I wish I was by that dim lake,I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,If hoarded gold possess'd a powerIf I speak to thee in friendship's name,If I were yonder wave, my dear,If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air,I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire,In days, my Kate, when life was new,In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,It is not the tear at this moment shed,I've a secret to tell thee, but hush! not here, --I've heard, there was in ancient daysLesbia hath a beaming eye,Let Erin remember the days of old,Let me resign a wretched breath,Like the bright lamp that shone in Kildare's holy fane,Mary, I believed thee true,Mix me, child, a cup divine,My heart is a sieve where some scatter'd affectionsNay, do not weep, my Fanny dear!Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drownsNe'er ask the hour -- what is it to usNeither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more!Night clos'd around the conqueror's way,No, ne'er did the wave in its element steepNo, not more welcome the fairy numbersO Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear,Observe when mother earth is dry,Oft in the stilly night,Oh! Arranmore, loved Arranmore,Oh! banquet not in those shining bowers,Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,Oh! doubt me not -- the seasonOh! had we some bright little isle of our own,Oh! it was fill'd with words of flame,Oh! no -- not e'en when first we loved,Oh! the days are gone when Beauty brightOh! 'tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove,Oh, days of youth and joy, long clouded,Oh, remember the time, in La Mancha's shades,Oh, the sight entrancing,Oh, where's the slave, so lowly,One bumper at parting -- though manyOne day the Muses twined the handsPeace be around thee, wherever thou rovest;Peace to the slumberers!Quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup, while you may;
Remember the glories of Brien the BraveRich in bliss, I proudly scorn,Row gently here, my gondolier; So softly wake the tide,Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark --Science! to youSee how, beneath the moonbeam's smile,See you, beneath yon cloud so dark,She has beauty, but still you must keep your heart cool!She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,She never look'd so kind before --Silence is in our festal halls, --Silent, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to meSound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!Strike the gay harp! see the moon is on high,Sublime was the warning which Liberty spoke,Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well,Take back the sigh thy lips of artTake back the virgin page,That land I love,The beam of morning tremblingThe dream of those days when first I sung thee is o'er,The first ambrosial child of bliss,The harp that once through Tara's hallsThe minstrel boy to the war is gone,The time I've lost in wooing,The young May moon is beaming, love,Then, fare thee well! my own dear love,There are sounds of mirth in the night-air ringing,There comes a time, a dreary time,There is not in the wide world a valley so sweetThere's not a look, a word of thineThey came from a land beyond the sea,They know not my heart, who believe there can beThey made her a grave, too cold and dampThey say that Love had once a bookThey try to persuade me, my dear little sprite,This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes,This world is all a fleeting show,Thou art, O God, the life and lightThough the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see,Though 'tis all but a dream at the best,Through Erin's Isle,'Tis believ'd that this Harp, which I wake now for thee,Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking,'Tis said -- but whether true or not'Tis the last rose of summer,'Tis true, my fading years decline,To all that breathe the airs of heavenTo be the theme of every hourTo ladies' eyes a round, boy,To sigh, yet feel no pain,To-morrow, comrade, we'Twas a new feeling - something more'Twas but for a moment - and yet in that time'Twas in the fair Aspasia's bowerWeep on, weep on, your hour is past,Well, peace to thy heart, though another's it be,What life like that of the bard can be,What the bee is to the floweret,When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved,When daylight was yet sleeping under the billow,When first I met thee, warm and young,When he who adores thee has left but the nameWhen I have seen thy snowy wingWhen I loved you, I can't but allowWhen in death I shall calm recline,When life looks lone and dreary,When Love is kind,When midnight came to close the year,When midst the gay I meetWhen my thirsty soul I steep,When on the lip the sigh delays,When thro' life unblest we rove,When Time, who steals our years away,Whene'er I see those smiling eyes,Where now is the smile that lighten'dWhere shall we bury our shame?While gazing on the moon's light,While History's Muse the memorial was keepingWhy does azure deck the sky?With all my soul, then, let us part,Within this goblet rich and deep,Wreathe the bowlYes -- loving is a painful thrill,Yes, be the glorious revel mine,You read it in my languid eyes,You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride,Young Love found a Dial once in a dark shade,Young Love lived once in a humble shed,
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