Tibullus To Sulpicia.

nulla tuum nobis subducet femina lectum, etc., Lib. iv. Carm. 13.


"Never shall woman's smile have power
    "To win me from those gentle charms!"--
Thus swore I, in that happy hour,
    When Love first gave thee to my arms.

And still alone thou charm'st my sight--
    Still, tho' our city proudly shine
With forms and faces, fair and bright,
    I see none fair or bright but thine.

Would thou wert fair for only me,
    And couldst no heart but mine allure!--
To all men else unpleasing be,
    So shall I feel my prize secure.

Oh, love like mine ne'er wants the zest
    Of others' envy, others' praise;
But, in its silence safely blest,
    Broods o'er a bliss it ne'er betrays.

Charm of my life! by whose sweet power
    All cares are husht, all ills subdued--
My light in even the darkest hour,
    My crowd in deepest solitude!

No, not tho' heaven itself sent down
    Some maid of more than heavenly charms,
With bliss undreamt thy bard to crown,
    Would he for her forsake those arms!

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

Young Jessica.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

A Sad Case.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Latest Accounts From Olympus.

Thomas Moore, Simple Poetry

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode XLVIII.

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.

Boat Glee.

The song that lightens the languid way,
        When brows are glowing,
        And faint with rowing,
Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay,
To whose sound thro' life we stray;
The beams that flash on the oar awhile,
    As we row along thro' the waves so clear,
Illume its spray, like the fleeting smile
    That shines o'er sorrow's tear.

Nothing is lost on him who sees
    With an eye that feeling gave;--
For him there's a story in every breeze,
    And a picture in every wave.
Then sing to lighten the languid way;
        When brows are glowing,
        And faint with rowing,
'Tis like the spell of Hope's airy lay,
To whose sound thro' life we stray.

            *            *            *            *            *

'Tis sweet...

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Rhymes On The Road. Extract XI. Florence.

No--'tis not the region where Love's to be found--
    They have bosoms that sigh, they have glances that rove,
They have language a Sappho's own lip might resound,
    When she warbled her best--but they've nothing like Love.

Nor is't that pure sentiment only they want,
    Which Heaven for the mild and the tranquil hath made--
Calm, wedded affection, that home-rooted plant
    Which sweetens seclusion and smiles in the shade;

That feeling which, after long years have gone by,
    Remains like a portrait we've sat for in youth,
Where, even tho' the flush of the colors may fly,
    The features still live in their first smiling truth;

That union where all that in Woman is kind,
    With all that in Man most ennoblingly towers,
Grow wreathed into...

Thomas Moore

Imitation Of Catullus. To Himself.

        Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire, etc.


Cease the sighing fool to play;
Cease to trifle life away;
Nor vainly think those joys thine own,
Which all, alas, have falsely flown.
What hours, Catullus, once were thine.
How fairly seemed thy day to shine,
When lightly thou didst fly to meet
The girl whose smile was then so sweet--
The girl thou lovedst with fonder pain
Than e'er thy heart can feel again.

    Ye met--your souls seemed all in one,
Like tapers that commingling shone;
Thy heart was warm enough for both,
And hers, in truth, was nothing loath.

    Such were the hours that once were thine;
But, ah! those hours no longer shine.
For now the nymph delights no more
In what she loved so much before;
And all Ca...

Thomas Moore

To .......

Sweet lady, look not thus again:
    Those bright, deluding smiles recall
A maid remember'd now with pain,
    Who was my love, my life, my all!

Oh! while this heart bewildered took
    Sweet poison from her thrilling eye,
Thus would she smile and lisp and look,
    And I would hear and gaze and sigh!

Yes, I did love her--wildly love--
    She was her sex's best deceiver!
And oft she swore she'd never rove--
    And I was destined to believe her!

Then, lady, do not wear the smile
    Of one whose smile could thus betray;
Alas! I think the lovely wile
    Again could steal my heart away.

For, when those spells that charmed my mind
    On lips so pure as thine I see,
I fear the heart which she resigned
    Will err again an...

Thomas Moore

After Tibullus

Illius est nobis lege colendus amor

On her own terms, O lover, must thou take
The heart's beloved: be she kind, 'tis well,
Cruel, expect no more; not for thy sake
But for the fire in thee that melts her snows
For a brief spell
She loves thee - "loves" thee!    Though thy heart should break,
Though thou shouldst lie athirst for her in hell,
    She could not pity thee: who of the Rose,
Or of the Moon, asks pity, or return
    Of love for love? and she is even as those.
Beauty is she, thou Love, and thou must learn,
O lover, this:
Thine is she for the music thou canst pour
    Through her white limbs, the madness, the deep dream;
Thine, while thy kiss
    Can sweep her flaming with thee down the stream
That is not thou nor she but merely bliss;...

Richard Le Gallienne

Love's Light Summer-Cloud.

Pain and sorrow shall vanish before us--
    Youth may wither, but feeling will last;
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us
    Love's light summer-cloud only shall cast.
        Oh, if to love thee more
        Each hour I number o'er--
        If this a passion be
        Worthy of thee,
Then be happy, for thus I adore thee.
    Charms may wither, but feeling shall last:
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee,
    Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.
Rest, dear bosom, no sorrows shall pain thee,
    Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal;
Beam, bright eyelid, no weeping shall stain thee,
    Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel.
            Oh, if there be a charm,
            In love, to banish harm--
            If pleas...

Thomas Moore