The poetical works of Thomas Moore, with notes &c

Hark! gain that dull chime,
'Tis the dreary voice of Time.
Oh, if life be a torrent,

Down to oblivion going,
Like this cup be its current,
Bright to the last drop flowing!

IF IN LOVING, SINGING.

Ir in loving, singing, night and day,
We could trifle merrily life away,
Like atoms dancing in the beam,
Like day-flies skimming o'er the stream,
Or summer blossoms, born to sigh
Their sweetness out, and die-
How brilliant, thoughtless, side by side,

Thou and I could make our minutes
glide!

No atoms ever glanced so bright,
No day-flies ever danced so light,
Nor summer blossoms mixed their sigh,
So close as thou and I!

THOU LOV'ST NO MORE.

Too plain, alas! my doom is spoken,
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er;
Thy heart is changed, thy vow is
broken,

Thou lov'st no more-thou lov'st no

more.

Though kindly still those eyes behold me,

The smile is gone which once they

wore;

Though fondly still those arms enfold me, "Tis not the same-thou lov'st no more.

Too long my dream of bliss believing,

I've thought thee all thou wert before; But now-alas! there's no deceiving.

'Tis all too plain, thou lov'st no more. Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,

As lost affection's life restore, Give peace to her that is forsaken,

WHEN ABROAD IN THE WORLD.

WHEN abroad in the world thou appearest,

And the young and the lovely are there,

To my heart while of all thou'rt the dearest,

To my eyes thou'rt of all the most
fair.

They pass, one by one,
Like waves of the sea,
That say to the sun,

"See, how fair we can be."
But where's the light like thine,
In sun or shade to shine?

No-no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee,

Nothing like thee.

KEEP THOSE EYES STILL
PURELY MINE.
KEEP those eyes still purely mine,
Though far off I be:
When on others most they shine,

Then think they're turned on me
Should those lips as now respond
To sweet minstrelsy,
When their accents seem most fond,
Then think they're breathed for me.
Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,
If when all on thee

Or bring back him who loves no Fix their charmed thoughts alone,

more.

Thou think'st the while on me.

HOPE COMES AGAIN.

HOPE Comes again, to this heart long a stranger,

Once more she sings me her flattering strain;

But hush, gentle syren-for, ah, there's less danger

In still suffering on, than in hoping again,

Long, long, in sorrow, too deep for repining,

Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain ;

And joy coming now, like a sudden light shining

O'er eyelids long darkened, would bring me but pain.

Fly then, ye visions, that Hope would shed o'er me;

Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest

Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me,

But, ah-in forgetting how once I was blest.

O SAY, THOU BEST AND BRIGHTEST.

O SAY, thou best and brightest,
My first love and my last,
When he, whom now thou slightest,

From life's dark scene hath past,

Will kinder thoughts then move thee?
Will pity wake one thrill

For him who lived to love thee,
And dying, loved thee still?

If when that hour recalling

From which he dates his woes, Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling,

Ah, blush not while it flows: But, all the past forgiving,

Bend gently o'er his shrine, And say, "This heart, when living, With all its faults, was mine."

WHEN NIGHT BRINGS THE
HOUR.

WHEN night brings the hour
Of starlight and joy,
There comes to my bower
A fairy-winged boy;
With eyes so bright,
So full of wild arts,
Like nets of light,

To tangle young hearts;
With lips, in whose keeping
Love's secret may dwell,
Like Zephyr asleep in
Some rosy sea-shell.
Guess who he is,

Name but his name,
And his best kiss

For reward you may claim.

Where'er o'er the ground

He prints his light feet, The flow'rs there are found Most shining and sweet: His looks, as soft

As lightning in May, Though dangerous oft,

Ne'er wound but in play: And oh, when his wings

Have brushed o'er my lyre, You'd fancy its strings Were turning to fire. Guess who he is,

Name but his name,

And his best kiss

For reward you may claim.

LIKE ONE WHO, DOOMED.

LIKE one who, doomed o'er distant

seas

His weary path to measure, When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,

He brings the far-sought treasure;

His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
That shore to which he hasted;
And all the wealth he thought his own
Is o'er the waters wasted.

FEAR not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seek'st no more.
No, dead and cold for ever

Let our past love remain ;
Once gone, its spirit never
Shall haunt thy rest again.

May the new ties that bind thee
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,
But by their truth and love.
Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is breaking,
For thy own peace forget.

WHEN LOVE IS KIND.

WHEN Love is kind,

Cheerful and free, Love's sure to find Welcome from me.

But when Love brings

Heartache or pang, Tears, and such thingsLove may go hang!

If Love can sigh

For one alone, Well pleased am I' To be that one.

Love given to rove

To two or three,

Then-good-bye, Love!

Love must, in short,
Keep fond and true,
Through good report,
And evil too.

Else, here I swear,
Young Love may go,
For aught I care-
To Jericho.

THE GARLAND I SEND THEE. THE garland I send thee was culled from those bowers

Where thou and I wandered in long vanished hours;

Not a leaf or a blossom its bloom herc displays,

But bears some remembrance of those happy days.

The roses were gathered by that garden gate,

Where our meetings, though early, seemed always too late;

Where lingering full oft through a summer-night's moon,

Our partings, though late, appeared always too soon.

The rest were all culled from the banks of that glade,

Where, watching the sunset, so often we've strayed,

And mourned, as the time went, that Love had no power

To bind in his chain even one happy hour.

HOW SHALL I WOO?

IF I speak to thee in Friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires,
Why doom me thus to hover?

I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires, | Thus may we, as years are flying,

If more thou seek'st, a lover. Which shall it be? How shall I woo? Fair one, choose between the two.

To their flight our pleasures suit, Nor regret the blossoms dying,

While we still may taste the fruit. Oh, while days like this are ours,

Where's the lip that dares repine? Spring may take our loves and flowers, So Autumn leaves us friends and wine.

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