Awake, Arise, Thy Light Is Come. (Air.--Stevenson.)

Awake, arise, thy light is come;^[1]
    The nations, that before outshone thee,
Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb--
    The glory of the Lord is on thee!

Arise--the Gentiles to thy ray,
    From every nook of earth shall cluster;
And kings and princes haste to pay
    Their homage to thy rising lustre.^[2]

Lift up thine eyes around, and see
    O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters,
Thy exiled sons return to thee,
    To thee return thy home-sick daughters.^[3]

And camels rich, from Midians' tents,
    Shall lay their treasures down before thee;
And Saba bring her gold and scents,
    To fill thy air and sparkle o'er thee.^[4]

See, who are these that, like a cloud,^[5]
    Are gathering from all earth's dominions,
Like doves, long absent, when allowed
    Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions.

Surely the isles shall wait for me,^[6]
    The ships of Tarshish round will hover,
To bring thy sons across the sea,
    And waft their gold and silver over.

And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace^[7]--
    The fir, the pine, the palm victorious
Shall beautify our Holy Place,
    And make the ground I tread on glorious.

No more shall dischord haunt thy ways,^[8]
    Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation;
But thou shalt call thy portal Praise,
    And thou shalt name thy walls Salvation.

The sun no more shall make thee bright,^[9]
    Nor moon shall lend her lustre to thee;
But God, Himself, shall be thy Light,
    And flash eternal glory thro' thee.

Thy sun shall never more go down;
    A ray from heaven itself descended
Shall light thy everlasting crown--
    Thy days of mourning all are ended.^[10]

My own, elect, and righteous Land!
    The Branch, for ever green and vernal,
Which I have planted with this hand--
    Live thou shalt in Life Eternal.^[11]

Thomas Moore

Thomas Moore was an Irish poet, singer, and songwriter, celebrated for his Irish Melodies, which are now considered a staple of Irish cultural heritage. Born on May 28, 1779, in Dublin, Ireland, Moore gained fame for his lyrical songs, many of which were set to traditional Irish tunes. Not only a poet, but he was also a staunch advocate of Irish nationalism, often incorporating themes of national identity and resistance into his work. Moore's influential collection 'Irish Melodies' became popular in both Ireland and Britain and helped to define the literary output of the era. He passed away on February 25, 1852, but his legacy in Irish literature and music endures.

Thomas Moore

The Legend Of Puck The Fairy.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode XLV.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

To Miss Moore. From Norfolk, In Virginia, November, 1803.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

War Song. Remember The Glories Of Brien The Brave.[1]

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

But Who Shall See. (Air.--Stevenson.)

But who shall see the glorious day
    When, throned on Zion's brow,
The LORD shall rend that veil away
    Which hides the nations now?^[1]
When earth no more beneath the fear
    Of this rebuke shall lie;^[2]
When pain shall cease, and every tear
    Be wiped from every eye.^[3]

Then, Judah, thou no more shall mourn
    Beneath the heathen's chain;
Thy days of splendor shall return,
    And all be new again.^[4]

The Fount of Life shall then be quaft
    In peace, by all who come;^[5]
And every wind that blows shall waft
    Some long-lost exile home.

Thomas Moore

Rhymes On The Road. Extract I. Geneva.

View of the Lake of Geneva from the Jura.^[1]--Anxious to reach it before the Sun went down.--Obliged to proceed on Foot.--Alps.--Mont Blanc.--Effect of the Scene.


'Twas late--the sun had almost shone
His last and best when I ran on
Anxious to reach that splendid view
Before the daybeams quite withdrew
And feeling as all feel on first
    Approaching scenes where, they are told,
Such glories on their eyes will burst
    As youthful bards in dreams behold.

'Twas distant yet and as I ran
    Full often was my wistful gaze
Turned to the sun who now began
    To call in all his out-posts rays,
And form a denser march of light,
Such as beseems a hero's flight.
Oh, how I wisht for JOSHUA'S power,
To stay the brightness of that hour...

Thomas Moore

The Coming Of The King.

"O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, behold, I will lay thy atones with fair colours, and lay thy foundations with sapphires. And I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones. And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children." Isaiah, liv. 11-13.


As the sand of the desert is smitten
    By hoof-beats that strike out a light,
A flash by which dumb things are litten,
    The children of night;
So Thou who of old did'st create us,
    Among the high gods the Most High,
Strike us with Thy brightness, and let us
    Behold Thee, and die.

Grown old in blind anguish and travail,
    Thy world thou mad'st sinless and free
Gropes on, with no power to u...

Kate Seymour Maclean

Thou Art, O God.

(Air.--Unknown.)^[1]


        "The day is thine, the night is also thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun.

        "Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter."
        --Psalm lxxiv. 16, 17.


Thou art, O 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!

When Day, with farewell beam, delays
    Among the opening clouds of Even,
And we can almost think we gaze
    Thro' golden vistas into Heaven--
Those hues, that make the Sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, LORD! are Thine.

When Night, with ...

Thomas Moore

Go Forth To The Mount, (Air.--Stevenson.)

Go forth to the Mount; bring the olive-branch home,^[1]
And rejoice; for the day of our    freedom is come!
From that time,^[2] when the moon upon Ajalon's vale,
    Looking motionless down,^[3] saw the kings of the earth,
In the presence of God's mighty champion grow pale--
    Oh, never had Judah an hour of such mirth!
Go forth to the Mount--bring the olive-branch home,
And rejoice, for the day of our freedom is come!

Bring myrtle and palm--bring the boughs of each tree
That's worthy to wave o'er the tents of the Free.^[4]
From that day when the footsteps of Israel shone
    With a light not their own, thro' the Jordan's deep tide,
Whose waters shrunk back as the ark glided on^[5]--
    Oh, never had Judah an hour of ...

Thomas Moore

Behold The Sun. (Air.--Lord Mornington.)

Behold the Sun, how bright
From yonder East he springs,
As if the soul of life and light
Were breathing from his wings.

So bright the Gospel broke
Upon the souls of men;
So fresh the dreaming world awoke
In Truth's full radiance then.

Before yon Sun arose,
Stars clustered thro' the sky--
But oh how dim, how pale were those,
To His one burning eye!

So Truth lent many a ray,
    To bless the Pagan's night--
But, Lord, how weak, how cold were they
    To Thy One glorious Light!

Thomas Moore