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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


As to the rest, they're free to do
Whate'er their fancy prompts them to,
Provided they make nothing of it
Towards rank or honor, power or profit;
Which things we naturally expect,
Belong to US, the Establisht sect,
Who disbelieve (the Lord be thanked!)
The aforesaid Chapter of the Blanket.
The same mild views of Toleration
Inspire, I find, this buttoned nation,
Whose Papists (full as given to rogue,
And only Sunnites with a brogue)
Fare just as well, with all their fuss,
As rascal Sunnites do with us.
The tender Gazel I enclose
Is for my love, my Syrian Rose--
Take it when night begins to fall,
And throw it o'er her mother's wall.
GAZEL.
Rememberest thou the hour we past,--
That hour the happiest and the last?
Oh! not so sweet the Siha thorn
To summer bees at break of morn,
Not half so sweet, thro' dale and dell,
To Camels' ears the tinkling bell,
As is the soothing memory
Of that one precious hour to me.
How can we live, so far apart?
Oh! why not rather, heart to heart,
United live and die--
Like those sweet birds, that fly together,
With feather always touching feather,
Linkt by a hook and eye![5]

[1] I have made many inquiries about this Persian gentleman, but cannot
satisfactorily ascertain who he is. From his notions of Religious Liberty,
however, I conclude that he is an importation of Ministers; and he has
arrived just in time to assist the Prince and Mr.


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