Quote #8
Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!
Attribution disputed; shown as originally published.
More from Thomas Moore
- Oh, call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.
- Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.
- Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphed-his people are free.
- And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
- What though youth gave love and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.
- The harp that once through Tara's Hall The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall As if that soul were fled.
- I feel like one, Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed!
- Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.