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Books Books 1 - 10 of 180 on Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee,....
" Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the... "
The Living Age - Page 642
1907
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Sabrinae corolla in hortulis regiae scholae Salopiensis contextuerunt tres ...

Shrewsbury (England). Royal School - English poetry - 1801 - 328 pages
...voice of gratitude. GRAY. Melody. Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer ; Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last. Oh, what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through...
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British melodies, extracts from the modern poets [signed J.H.R.].

British melodies - 1820
...COME REST IN THIS BOSOM. T. Moore. rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer! Tho' the herd have-iied from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to tho last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Thro'...
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Melodies (Irish melodies, National melodies).

Thomas Moore - 1821
...THIS BOSOM. AIR—Lough Sheeting. COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer! Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here: Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last! Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same ....
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Melodies, Songs, Sacred Songs, and National Airs: Containing Several Never ...

Thomas Moore - Ballads, Irish - 1821 - 252 pages
...BOSOM. Am — " Lough Sheeling." COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,'. Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thv own to the last f Ob ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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Irish Melodies

Thomas Moore - Ballads, English - 1821 - 259 pages
...! COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. I. COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer ! Tho' the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ! II. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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The Works of Thomas Moore: Irish melodies. National airs

Thomas Moore - 1823
...AIE. — Lough Sheeling. / L COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer ! Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ! II. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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The inn-keeper's album

William Frederick Deacon - 1823 - 429 pages
...acquaintance. ON FALLING IN LOVE. Come, rest in this bosom my own stricken deer, Tho' the herd have fled from thee thy home is still here; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thine own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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The works of Thomas Moore, comprehending all his melodies, ballads ..., Volume 4

Thomas Moore - 1823
...BOSOM. AIR. — Lough Sheeting. I. COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer I Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, ^nd the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ! Oh ! what was love nude for, if 'tis not the same...
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The Ladies' pocket magazine

...lies." — Pop€. FALLING IX LOVE. ' Come rest in this bosom my own stricken deer, ' Tho' the herd have fled from thee thy home is still here , Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thine own to the last. Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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Melodies, Songs, Sacred Songs, and National Airs

Thomas Moore - 1825 - 300 pages
...this bosom. Mr— Lough Sheeting. Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer ! Tho' the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here ; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ! Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same...
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