Skip directly to:Main content Main navigation

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.

V.

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.

collapse section

VIII, IX.

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

THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS.

collapse section

THE FUDGES IN ENGLAND;

I.

LETTER I. FROM PATRICK MAGAN, ESQ., TO THE REV. RICHARD ---, CURATE OF ---, IN IRELAND.

II.

LETTER II. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE, TO MRS. ELIZABETH ---.

III.

LETTER III. FROM MISS FANNY FUDGE, TO HER COUSIN, MISS KITTY ---.

IV.

LETTER IV. FROM PATRICK MAGAN, ESQ. TO THE REV. RICHARD ---.

V.

LETTER V. FROM LARRY O'BRANIGAN, IN ENGLAND, TO HIS WIFE JUDY, AT MULLINAFAD.

VI.

LETTER VI. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE, TO MRS. ELIZABETH ---.

VII.

LETTER VII. FROM MISS FANNY FUDGE, TO HER COUSIN, MISS KITTY ---.

VIII.

LETTER VIII. FROM BOB FUDGE, ESQ., TO THE REV. MORTIMER O'MULLIGAN.

IX.

LETTER IX. FROM LARRY O'BRANIGAN, TO HIS WIFE JUDY.

X.

LETTER X. FROM THE REV. MORTIMER O'MULLIGAN, TO THE REV. ------.

XI.

LETTER XI. FROM PATRICK MAGAN, ESQ., TO THE REV. RICHARD ---.

SONGS FROM M.P.;

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

X.

VOL. X. THE EPICUREAN. ALCIPHRON.

collapse section

Collapse All | Expand All expand section

Thus flatter'd, I presume to send
A few more extracts by a friend;
And I should hope they'll be no less
Approv'd of than my last MS.—
The former ones, I fear, were creas'd,
As Biddy round the caps would pin them;
But these will come to hand, at least
Unrumpled, for there's—nothing in them.