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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"


Had we--but hold!--hear every part
Of our sad tale--spite of the pain
Remembrance gives, when the fixt dart
Is stirred thus in the wound again--
Hear every step, so full of bliss,
And yet so ruinous, that led
Down to the last, dark precipice,
Where perisht both--the fallen, the dead!
From the first hour she caught my sight,
I never left her--day and night
Hovering unseen around her way,
And mid her loneliest musings near,
I soon could track each thought that lay,
Gleaming within her heart, as clear
As pebbles within brooks appear;
And there among the countless things
That keep young hearts for ever glowing--
Vague wishes, fond imaginings,
Love-dreams, as yet no object knowing--
Light, winged hopes that come when bid,
And rainbow joys that end in weeping;
And passions among pure thoughts hid,
Like serpents under flowerets sleeping:--
'Mong all these feelings--felt where'er
Young hearts are beating--I saw there
Proud thoughts, aspirings high--beyond
Whate'er yet dwelt in soul so fond--
Glimpses of glory, far away
Into the bright, vague future given;
And fancies, free and grand, whose play,
Like that of eaglets, is near heaven!
With this, too--what a soul and heart
To fall beneath the tempter's art!--
A zeal for knowledge, such as ne'er
Enshrined itself in form so fair,
Since that first, fatal hour, when Eve,
With every fruit of Eden blest
Save one alone--rather than leave
That _one_ unreached, lost all the rest.


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