The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore / Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes

by Thomas Moore

Moore had a very fair share of learning, as well as steady application, greatly as he sacrificed to the graces of life, and especially of "good society." His face was not perhaps much more impressive in its contour than his diminutive figure. His eyes, however, were dark and fine; his forehead bony, and with what a phrenologist would recognize as large bumps of wit; the mouth pleasingly dimpled. His manner and talk were bright, abounding rather in lively anecdote and point than in wit and humor, strictly so called. To term him amiable according to any standard, and estimable too as men of an unheroic fibre go, is no more than his due.

No doubt the world has already seen the most brilliant days of Moore's poetry. Its fascinations are manifestly of the more temporary sort: partly through fleetingness of subject-matter and evanescence of allusion (as in the clever and still readable satirical poems); partly through the aroma of sentimental patriotism, hardly strong enough in stamina to make the compositions national, or to maintain their high level of popularity after the lyrist himself has long been at rest; partly through the essentially commonplace sources and forms of inspiration which belong to his more elaborate and ambitious works. No poetical reader of the present day is the poorer for knowing absolutely nothing of Lalla Rookh or the Loves of the Angels. What then will be the hold or the claim of these writings upon a reader of the twenty-first century? If we expect the satirical compositions, choice in a different way, the best things of Moore are to be sought in the Irish Melodies, to which a considerable share of merit, and of apposite merit, is not to be denied: yet even here what deserts around the oases, and the oases themselves how soon exhaustible and forgettable! There are but few thoroughly beautiful and touching lines in the whole of Moore's poetry. Here is one—

"Come rest in this bosom, mine own stricken deer."

A great deal has been said upon the overpowering "lusciousness" of his poetry, and the magical "melody" of his verse: most of this is futile. There is in the former as much of fadeur as of lusciousness; and a certain tripping or trotting exactitude, not less fully reducible to the test of scansion than of a well-attuned ear, is but a rudimentary form of melody—while of harmony or rhythmic volume of sound Moore is as decisively destitute as any correct versifier can well be. No clearer proof of the incapacity of the mass of critics and readers to appreciate the calibre of poetical work in point of musical and general execution could be given than the fact that Moore has always with them passed, and still passes, for an eminently melodious poet. What then remains? Chiefly this. In one class of writing, liveliness of witty banter, along with neatness; and, in the other and ostensibly more permanent class, elegance, also along with neatness. Reduce these qualities to one denomination, and we come to something that may be called "Propriety": a sufficiently disastrous "raw material" for the purposes of a poet, and by no means loftily to be praised or admired even when regarded as the outer investiture of a nobler poetic something within. But let desert of every kind have its place, and welcome. In the cosmical diapason and august orchestra of poetry, Tom Moore's little Pan's-pipe can at odd moments be heard, and interjects an appreciable and rightly-combined twiddle or two. To be gratified with these at the instant is no more than the instrument justifies, and the executant claims: to think much about them when the organ is pealing or the violin plaining (with a Shelley performing on the first, or a Mrs. Browning on the second), or to be on the watch for their recurrences, would be equally superfluous and weak-minded.

CONTENTS

Advertisement.
After the Battle.
Alarming Intelligence.
Alciphron: a Fragment.
Letter I. From Alciphron at Alexandria to Cleon at Athens.
II. From the Same to the Same.
III. From the Same to the Same.
IV. From Orcus, High Priest of Memphis, to Decius, the Praetorian
Prefect.
All in the Family Way.
All that's Bright must Fade.
Almighty God.
Alone in Crowds to wander on.
Amatory Colloquy between Bank and Government.
Anacreon, Odes of.
I. I saw the Smiling Bard of Pleasure.
II. Give me the Harp of Epic Song.
III. Listen to the Muse's Lyre.
IV. Vulcan! hear Your Glorious Task.
V. Sculptor, wouldst Thou glad my Soul.
VI. As Late I sought the Spangled Bowers.
VII. The Women tell Me Every Day.
VIII. I care not for the Idle State.
IX. I pray thee, by the Gods Above.
X. How am I to punish Thee.
XI. "Tell Me, Gentle Youth, I pray Thee".
XII. They tell How Atys, Wild with Love.
XIII. I will, I will, the Conflict's past.
XIV. Count Me, on the Summer Trees.
XV. Tell Me, Why, My Sweetest Dove.
XVI. Thou, Whose Soft and Rosy Hues.
XVII. And Now with All Thy Pencil's Truth.
XVIII. Now the Star of Day is High.
XIX. Here recline You, Gentle Maid.
XX. One Day the Muses twined the Hands.
XXI. Observe When Mother Earth is Dry.
XXII. The Phrygian Rock, That braves the Storm.
XXIII. I Often wish this Languid Lyre.
XXIV. To All That breathe the Air of Heaven.
XXV. Once in Each Revolving Year.
XXVI. Thy Harp may sing of Troy's Alarms.
XXVII. We read the Flying Courser's Name.
XXVIII. As, by His Lemnian Forge's Flame.
XXIX. Yes—Loving is a Painful Thrill.
XXX. 'Twas in a Mocking Dream of Night.
XXXI. Armed with Hyacinthine Rod.
XXXII. Strew Me a Fragrant Bed of Leaves.
XXXIII. 'Twas Noon of Night, When round the Pole.
XXXIV. Oh Thou, of All Creation Blest.
XXXV. Cupid Once upon a Bed.
XXXVI. If Hoarded Gold possest the Power.
XXXVII. 'Twas Night, and Many a Circling Bowl.
XXXVIII. Let Us drain the Nectared Bowl.
XXXIX. How I love the Festive Boy.
XL. I know That Heaven hath sent Me Here.
XLI. When Spring adorns the Dewy Scene.
XLII. Yes, be the Glorious Revel Mine.
XLIII. While Our Rosy Fillets shed.
XLIV. Buds of Roses, Virgin Flowers.
XLV. Within This Goblet Rich and Deep.
XLVI. Behold, the Young, the Rosy Spring.
XLVII. 'Tis True, My Fading Years decline.
XLVIII. When My Thirsty Soul I steep.
XLIX. When Bacchus, Jove's Immortal Boy.
L. When Wine I quaff, before My Eyes.
LI. Fly Not Thus My Brow of Snow.
LII. Away, Away, Ye Men of Rules.
LIII. When I beheld the Festive Train.
LIV. Methinks, the Pictured Bull We see.
LV. While We invoke the Wreathed Spring.
LVI. He, Who instructs the Youthful Crew.
LVII. Whose was the Artist Hand That Spread.
LVIII. When Gold, as Fleet as Zephyr's Pinion.
LIX. Ripened by the Solar Beam.
LX. Awake to Life, My Sleeping Shell.
LXI. Youth's Endearing Charms are fled.
LXII. Fill Me, Boy, as Deep a Draught.
LXIII. To Love, the Soft and Blooming Child.
LXIV. Haste Thee, Nymph, Whose Well-aimed Spear.
LXV. Like Some Wanton Filly sporting.
LXVI. To Thee, the Queen of Nymphs Divine.
LXVII. Rich in Bliss, I proudly scorn.
LXVIII. Now Neptune's Month Our Sky deforms.
LXIX. They wove the Lotus Band to deck.
LXX. A Broken Cake, with Honey Sweet
LXXI. With Twenty Chords My Lyre is hung.
LXXII. Fare Thee Well, Perfidious Maid.
LXXIII. Awhile I bloomed, a Happy Flower.
LXXIV. Monarch Love, Resistless Boy.
LXXV. Spirit of Love, Whose Locks unrolled.
LXXVI. Hither, Gentle Muse of Mine.
LXXVII. Would That I were a Tuneful Lyre.
LXXVIII. When Cupid sees How Thickly Now.
Let Me resign This Wretched Breath.
I know Thou lovest a Brimming Measure.
From Dread Lucadia's Frowning Steep.
Mix Me, Child, a Cup Divine.
Anacreontic.
Anacreontic.
Anacreontic.
Anacreontic.
Anacreontic.
And doth not a Meeting Like This.
Angel of Charity.
Animal Magnetism.
Anne Boleyn.
Announcement of a New Grand Acceleration Company.
Announcement of a New Thalaba.
Annual Pill, The.
Anticipated Meeting of the British Association in the Year 1836.
As a Beam o'er the Face of the Waters may glow.
As down in the Sunless Retreats.
Ask not if Still I Love.
Aspasia.
As Slow our Ship.
As Vanquished Erin.
At Night.
At the Mid Hour of Night.
Avenging and Bright.
Awake, arise, Thy Light is come.
Awful Event.

Ballad, A.
Ballad for the Cambridge Election.
Ballad Stanzas.
Beauty and Song.
Before the Battle.
Behold the Sun.
Believe Me, if All Those Endearing Young Charms.
Black and Blue Eyes.
Blue Love-Song, A.
Boat Glee.
Boy of the Alps, The.
Boy Statesman, The.
Bright be Thy Dreams.
Bright Moon.
Bring the Bright Garlands Hither.
Brunswick Club, The.
But Who shall see.
By that Lake, Whose Gloomy Shore.

Calm be Thy Sleep.
Canadian Boat Song, A.
Canonization of Saint Butterworth, The.
Captain Rock in London.
Case of Libel, A.
Catalogue, The.
Cephalus and Procris.
Characterless, A.
Cherries, The.
Child's Song—From a Masque.
Church Extension.
Cloris and Fanny.
Cocker, on Church Reform.
Come, chase that Starting Tear Away.
Come Not, oh Lord.
Come o'er the Sea.
Come, play Me That Simple Air Again.
Come, rest in This Bosom.
Come, send Round the Wine.
Come, Ye Disconsolate.
Common Sense and Genius.
Consultation, The.
Copy of An Intercepted Despatch.
Corn and Catholics.
Corrected Report of Some Late Speeches, A.
Correspondence between a Lady and Gentleman.
Corruption, an Epistle.
Cotton and Corn.
Country Dance and Quadrille.
Crystal-Hunters, The.
Cupid and Psyche.
Cupid Armed.
Cupid's Lottery.
Curious Fact, A.

Dance of Bishops, The.
Dawn is breaking o'er Us, The.
Day-Dream, The.
Day of Love, The.
Dear Fanny.
Dear Harp of My Country.
Dear? Yes.
Desmond's Song.
Devil among the Scholars, The.
Dialogue between a Sovereign and a One Pound Note.
Dick * * * *.
Did not.
Dog-day Reflections.
Donkey and His Panniers, The.
Do not say That Life is waning.
Dost Thou Remember.
Dream, A.
Dreaming For Ever.
Dream of Antiquity, A.
Dream of Hindostan, A.
Dream of Home, The.
Dream of the Two Sisters, The.
Dream of Those Days, The.
Dream of Turtle, A.
Dreams.
Drink of This Cup.
Drink to Her.
Duke is the Lad, The.
Dying Warrior, The.

East Indian, The.
Echo.
Elegiac Stanzas.
Elegiac Stanzas.
Enigma.
Epigram.—"I never gave a Kiss" (says Prue).
Epigram.—"I want the Court Guide," said My Lady, "to look".
Epigram.—What News To-day?—"Oh! Worse and Worse".
Epigram.—Said His Highness to Ned, with That Grim Face of His.
Epilogue.
Epistle from Captain Rock to Lord Lyndhurst.
Epistle from Erasmus on Earth to Cicero in the Shades.
Epistle from Henry of Exeter to John of Tuam.
Epistle from Tom Crib to Big Ben.
Epistle of Condolence.
Epitaph on a Tuft-Hunter.
Erin, oh Erin.
Erin! The Tear and the Smile in Thine Eyes.
Euthanasia of Van, The.
Eveleen's Bower.
Evening Gun, The.
Evenings in Greece.
Exile, The.
Expostulation to Lord King, An.
Extract from a Prologue.
Extracts from the Diary of a Politician.