Thomas Moore

Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
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Then should some cloud pass over
The brow of sire or lover,
Think 'tis the shade
By Victory made
Whose wings right o'er us hover!

It seem'd as if each thought and look
And motion were that minute chain'd
Fast to the read more

It seem'd as if each thought and look
And motion were that minute chain'd
Fast to the spot such root she took,
And--like a sunflower by a brook,
With face upturn'd--so still remain'd!

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

In Adam's fall--
We sinned all.

One sole desire, one passion now remains
To keep life's fever still within his veins,
Vengeance! dire read more

One sole desire, one passion now remains
To keep life's fever still within his veins,
Vengeance! dire vengeance on the wretch who cast
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast.

Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the read more

Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the councils of the brave,
And blasts them in their hour of might!