Lord Wellington And The Ministers.

So gently in peace Alcibiades smiled,
    While in battle he shone forth so terribly grand,
That the emblem they graved on his seal, was a child
    With a thunderbolt placed in its innocent hand.

Oh Wellington, long as such Ministers wield
Your magnificent arm, the same emblem will do;
For while they're in the Council and you in the Field.
We've the babies in them, and the thunder in    you!

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

Rhymes On The Road. Extract XIII. Rome.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Fudge Family In Paris Letter X. From Miss Biddy Fudge To Miss Dorothy ----.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode VI.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Hark! 'Tis The Breeze. (Air.--Rousseau.)

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

English

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

Reinforcements For Lord Wellington.

        suosque tibi commendat, Troja Penates hos cape fatorum comites.
        VERGIL.


1813.


As recruits in these times are not easily got
And the Marshal must have them--pray, why should we not,
As the last and, I grant it, the worst of our loans to him,
Ship off the Ministry, body and bones to him?
There's not in all England, I'd venture to swear,
Any men we could half so conveniently spare;
And tho' they've been helping the French for years past,
We may thus make them useful to England at last.
Castlereagh in our sieges might save some disgraces,
Being used to the taking and keeping of places;
And Volunteer Canning, still ready for joining,
Might show off his talent for sly under-mining.
Could th...

Thomas Moore

Lines On The Departure Of Lord Castlereagh And Stewart For The Continent.

^[1]


        at Paris^[2] et Fratres, et qui rapure sub illis.
        vix tenuere manus (scis hoc, Menelae) nefandas.
        OVID. Metam. lib. xiii. v. 202.


Go, Brothers in wisdom--go, bright pair of Peers,
    And my Cupid and Fame fan you both with their pinions!
The one, the best lover we have--of his years,
    And the other Prime Statesman of Britain's dominions.

Go, Hero of Chancery, blest with the smile
    Of the Misses that love and the monarchs that prize thee;
Forget Mrs. Angelo Taylor awhile,
    And all tailors but him who so well dandifies thee.

Never mind how thy juniors in gallantry scoff,
    Never heed how perverse affidavits may thwart thee,
But show the young...

Thomas Moore

To The Ship In Which Lord Castlereagh Sailed For The Continent.

Imitated from Horace, lib. i, ode 3.


So may my Lady's prayers prevail,
    And Canning's too, and lucid Bragge's,
And Eldon beg a favoring gale
    From Eolus, that older Bags,
To speed thee on thy destined way,
Oh ship, that bearest our Castlereagh,
Our gracious Regent's better half
    And therefore quarter of a King--
(As Van or any other calf
    May find without much figuring).
Waft him, oh ye kindly breezes,
    Waft this Lord of place and pelf,
Any where his Lordship pleases,
    Tho' 'twere to Old Nick himself!

Oh, what a face of brass was his.
Who first at Congress showed his phiz--
To sign away the Rights of Man
    To Russian threats and Austrian juggle;
And leave the sinking African
...

Thomas Moore

While History's Muse.

While History's Muse the memorial was keeping
    Of all that the dark hand of Destiny weaves,
Beside her the Genius of Erin stood weeping,
    For hers was the story that blotted the leaves.
But oh! how the tear in her eyelids grew bright,
When, after whole pages of sorrow and shame,
        She saw History write,
        With a pencil of light
That illumed the whole volume, her Wellington's name.

"Hail, Star of my Isle!" said the Spirit, all sparkling
    With beams, such as break from her own dewy skies--
"Thro' ages of sorrow, deserted and darkling,
    "I've watched for some glory like thine to arise.
"For, tho' heroes I've numbered, unblest was their lot,
"And unhallowed they sleep in the crossways of Fame;--
        "But oh! there is not
        "...

Thomas Moore

Fables For The Holy Alliance. Fable Vi. The Little Grand Lama.

PROEM.

Novella, a young Bolognese,
    The daughter of a learned Law Doctor,^[1]
Who had with all the subtleties
    Of old and modern jurists stockt her,
Was so exceeding fair, 'tis said,
    And over hearts held such dominion,
That when her father, sick in bed,
Or busy, sent her, in his stead,
    To lecture on the Code Justinian,
She had a curtain drawn before her,
    Lest, if her charms were seen, the students
Should let their young eyes wander o'er her,
    And quite forget their jurisprudence.
Just so it is with Truth, when seen,
    Too dazzling far,--'tis from behind
A light, thin allegoric screen,
    She thus can safest leach mankind.

FABLE.

In Thibet once there reigned, we're told,
A little Lam...

Thomas Moore

Ode, To The Duke Of Wellington

    This, this is inspiration's hour!
    Poetic Genius, rushing on my soul,
    Rouses her every sense, her every power,
    And with a force too mighty to controul
    Inspires the warm, enthusiastic song:
    Now will I sing, O Wellington! of thee;
    To thee my plausive strains, of right, belong;
For thee my lyre shall pour its choicest harmony.
    Long have I fondly mused the theme sublime;
    And from my grateful heart of patriot flame
    In secret, offer'd incense to thy name;
    But dared not with unhallow'd rhyme
        Profane the British Hero's fame.
        Thrice welcome this propitious time!
Now, joining with my Country's minstrel-band,
Thy deeds, O Wellington! will I rehearse
        In lofty never-dying verse,
To which Britannia's se...

Thomas Oldham