Song Of Hercules To His Daughter.

^[1]


"I've been, oh, sweet daughter,
    "To fountain and sea,
"To seek in their water
    "Some bright gem for thee.
"Where diamonds were sleeping,
    "Their sparkle I sought,
"Where crystal was weeping,
    "Its tears I have caught.

"The sea-nymph I've courted
    "In rich coral halls;
"With Naiads have sported
    "By bright waterfalls.
"But sportive or tender,
    "Still sought I around
"That gem, with whose splendor
    "Thou yet shalt be crowned.

"And see, while I'm speaking,
    "Yon soft light afar;--
"The pearl I've been seeking
    "There floats like a star!
"In the deep Indian Ocean
    "I see the gem shine,
"And quick as light's motion
    "Its wealth shall be thine."

Then eastward, like lightning,
    The hero-god flew,
His sunny looks brightening
    The air he went thro'.
And sweet was the duty,
    And hallowed the hour,
Which saw thus young Beauty
    Embellished by Power.

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

To Thomas Hume, Esq., M. D.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Love Alone.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

A Dream Of Turtle.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

The Mad Tory And The Comet.

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.

The Grecian Girl's Dream Of The Blessed Islands.[1]

TO HER LOVER.


Was it the moon, or was it morning's ray,
That call'd thee, dearest, from these arms away?
Scarce hadst thou left me, when a dream of night
Came o'er my spirit so distinct and bright,
That, while I yet can vividly recall
Its witching wonders, thou shall hear them all.
Methought I saw, upon the lunar beam,
Two winged boys, such as thy muse might dream,
Descending from above, at that still hour,
And gliding, with smooth step, into my bower.
Fair as the beauteous spirits that, all day.
In Amatha's warm founts imprisoned stay,
But rise at midnight, from the enchanted rill,
To cool their plumes upon some moonlight hill.

    At once I knew their mission:--'twas to bear
My spirit upward, through the paths of air,
To that elysian r...

Thomas Moore

Song Of A Hyperborean.

I come from a land in the sun bright deep,
    Where golden gardens grow;
Where the winds of the north, be calmed in sleep,
    Their conch-shells never blow.^[1]
        Haste to that holy Isle with me,
            Haste--haste!

So near the track of the stars are we,
    That oft on night's pale beams
The distant sounds of their harmony
    Come to our ear, like dreams.
        Then haste to that holy Isle with me, etc.

The Moon too brings her world so nigh,
    That when the night-seer looks
To that shadowless orb, in a vernal sky,
    He can number its hills and brooks.
                Then, haste, etc.

To the Sun-god all our hearts and lyres^[2]
    By day, by night, belong;
And the breath we draw from his li...

Thomas Moore

A Dream Of Antiquity.

I just had turned the classic page.
    And traced that happy period over,
When blest alike were youth and age,
And love inspired the wisest sage,
    And wisdom graced the tenderest lover.

Before I laid me down to sleep
    Awhile I from the lattice gazed
Upon that still and moonlight deep,
    With isles like floating gardens raised,
For Ariel there his sports to keep;
While, gliding 'twixt their leafy shores
The lone night-fisher plied his oars.

I felt,--so strongly fancy's power
Came o'er me in that witching hour,--
As if the whole bright scenery there
    Were lighted by a Grecian sky,
And I then breathed the blissful air
    That late had thrilled to Sappho's sigh.

Thus, waking, dreamt I,--and when Sleep
    Came o'er my ...

Thomas Moore

From The High Priest Of Apollo To A Virgin Of Delphi.[1]

        Cum digno digna.....
                                            SULPICIA.


"Who is the maid, with golden hair,
"With eye of fire, and foot of air,
"Whose harp around my altar swells,
"The sweetest of a thousand shells?"
'Twas thus the deity, who treads
The arch of heaven, and proudly sheds
Day from his eyelids--thus he spoke,
As through my cell his glories broke.

    Aphelia is the Delphic fair^[2]
With eyes of fire and golden hair,
Aphelia's are the airy feet.
And hers the harp divinely sweet;
For foot so light has never trod
The laurelled caverns of the god.
Nor harp so soft hath ever given
A sigh to earth or hymn to heaven.

    "Then tell the virgin to unfold,
"In looser pomp, her locks of gold...

Thomas Moore

Hymn Of A Virgin Of Delphi, At The Tomb Of Her Mother.

Oh, lost, forever lost--no more
    Shall Vesper light our dewy way
Along the rocks of Crissa's shore,
    To hymn the fading fires of day;
No more to Tempe's distant vale
    In holy musings shall we roam,
Through summer's glow and winter's gale,
    To bear the mystic chaplets home.^[1]

'Twas then my soul's expanding zeal,
    By nature warmed and led by thee,
In every breeze was taught to feel
    The breathings of a Deity.
Guide of my heart! still hovering round.
    Thy looks, thy words are still my own--
I see thee raising from the ground
    Some laurel, by the winds o'er thrown.
And hear thee say, "This humble bough
    Was planted for a doom divine;
And, though it droop in languor now,
    Shall flourish on the Delphic s...

Thomas Moore

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LVII.

^[1]


Whose was the artist hand that spread
Upon this disk the ocean's bed?
And, in a flight of fancy, high
As aught on earthly wing can fly,
Depicted thus, in semblance warm,
The Queen of Love's voluptuous form
Floating along the silvery sea
In beauty's naked majesty!
Oh! he hath given the enamoured sight
A witching banquet of delight,
Where, gleaming through the waters clear,
Glimpses of undreamt charms appear,
And all that mystery loves to screen,
Fancy, like Faith, adores unseen.^[2]

Light as a leaf, that on the breeze
Of summer skims the glassy seas,
She floats along the ocean's breast,
Which undulates in sleepy rest;
While stealing on, she gently pillows
Her bosom on the heaving billows.
Her b...

Thomas Moore