The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes

Moore, Thomas (1779-1852)

I, II.

VOL. I., VOL. II. ODES OF ANACREON. JUVENILE POEMS. POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA.

III, IV.

VOL. III., VOL. IV. CORRUPTION AND INTOLERANCE. THE SCEPTIC. TWOPENNY POST-BAG. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. IRISH MELODIES. NATIONAL AIRS. SACRED SONGS.

VOL. V. EVENINGS IN GREECE. BALLADS, SONGS, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ETC. ETC.

VI, VII.

VOL. VI., VOL. VII. LALLA ROOKH. POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS. THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS. FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE. RHYMES ON THE ROAD. AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

[dedication]

LALLA ROOKH.

POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS.

THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.

[epigraph]

LETTER I. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY ---, OF CLONKILTY, IN IRELAND.

II.

LETTER II. FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD VISCOUNT C*ST---R---GH.

III.

LETTER III. FROM MR. BOB FUDGE TO RICHARD ---, ESQ.

IV.

LETTER IV. FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ---.

LETTER V. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY ---.

VI.

LETTER VI. FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO HIS BROTHER TIM FUDGE, ESQ. BARRISTER AT LAW.

VII.

LETTER VII. FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ------.

VIII.

LETTER VIII. FROM MR. BOB FUDGE TO RICHARD ---, ESQ.

IX.

LETTER IX. FROM PHIL. FUDGE, ESQ. TO THE LORD VISCOUNT C*ST---GH.

[section]

Extracts from Mr. Fudge's Journal, addressed to Lord C.

LETTER X. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY ---.

XI.

LETTER XI. FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ---.

XII.

LETTER XII. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE TO MISS DOROTHY ------.

FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE.

RHYMES ON THE ROAD,

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

VIII, IX.

VOL. VIII., VOL. IX THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. THE FUDGES IN ENGLAND. MISCELLANEOUS.

VOL. X. THE EPICUREAN. ALCIPHRON.

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321

ON THE DEATH OF A LADY.

Sweet spirit! if thy airy sleep
Nor sees my tears nor hears my sighs,
Then will I weep, in anguish weep,
Till the last heart's drop fills mine eyes.

But if thy sainted soul can feel,
And mingles in our misery;
Then, then my breaking heart I'll seal—
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me.

The beam of morn was on the stream,
But sullen clouds the day deform:
Like thee was that young, orient beam,
Like death, alas, that sullen storm!

Thou wert not form'd for living here,
So link'd thy soul was with the sky;
Yet, ah, we held thee all so dear,
We thought thou wert not form'd to die.