The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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![]() | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | ![]() |
Not far from this secluded place,
On the sea-shore a ruin stood;—
A relic of th' extinguish'd race,
Who once look'd o'er that foamy flood,
When fair Ioulis , by the light
Of golden sunset, on the sight
Of mariners who sail'd that sea,
Rose, like a city of chrysolite,
Call'd from the wave by witchery.
This ruin—now by barbarous hands
Debased into a motley shed,
Where the once splendid column stands
Inverted on its leafy head—
Form'd, as they tell, in times of old,
The dwelling of that bard, whose lay
Could melt to tears the stern and cold,
And sadden, mid their mirth, the gay—
Simonides
, whose fame, through years
And ages past, still bright appears—
Like Hesperus, a star of tears!
On the sea-shore a ruin stood;—
A relic of th' extinguish'd race,
Who once look'd o'er that foamy flood,
When fair Ioulis , by the light
Of golden sunset, on the sight
Of mariners who sail'd that sea,
Rose, like a city of chrysolite,
Call'd from the wave by witchery.
This ruin—now by barbarous hands
Debased into a motley shed,
Where the once splendid column stands
Inverted on its leafy head—
Form'd, as they tell, in times of old,
The dwelling of that bard, whose lay
Could melt to tears the stern and cold,
And sadden, mid their mirth, the gay—
32
And ages past, still bright appears—
Like Hesperus, a star of tears!
![]() | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | ![]() |