Memoirs, journal, & correspondence of Thomas Moore, Volum 2

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Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1853
 

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Side 85 - God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee, Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine...
Side 342 - The dead are like the stars by day ; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But, not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky : Spirits from bondage thus set free Vanish amidst immensity, Where human thought, like human sight, Fails to pursue their trackless flight.
Side 86 - ... 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...
Side 217 - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, for ihou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, and thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie ; My music shews you have your closes, and all must die.
Side 256 - I weigh the man, not his title ; 'tis not the king's stamp can make the metal better or heavier. Your lord is a leaden shilling, which you bend every way, and debases the stamp he bears, instead of being raised by it.
Side 205 - Pursuits of Literature," and the sensation it produced when published. Matthias's Italian poetry : Mr. Oakden said he had heard Florentines own he came nearer their poetry than any other foreigner had done, but that still he was but a foreigner at it. I mentioned a translation, by W. Spencer, of a song of mine ("The Wreath you wove ") into Italian, which passed with me and others for legitimate, till one day I repeated it to Buonaiuti*, and when I came to
Side 52 - No, vain, alas ! the endeavor From bonds so sweet to sever; Poor Wisdom's chance Against a glance Is now as weak as ever. WHERE IS THE. SLAVE. Он, where 's the slave so lowly, Condemned to chains unholy, Who, could he burst His bonds at first, Would pine beneath them slowly?
Side 215 - Why is a man who bets on the letter O that it will beat P in a race to the end of the alphabet, like a man asking for one sort of tobacco and getting some other? Because it is wrong to back O (tobacco).
Side 250 - OH, happy shades- to me unblest ! Friendly to peace, but not to me ! How ill the scene that offers rest, And heart that cannot rest agree...
Side 300 - Piozzi ; a wonderful old lady ; faces of other times seemed to crowd over her as she sat : the Johnsons, Reynoldses, etc. Though turned eighty, she has all the quickness and intelligence of a gay young woman.

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