Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 12

They tell how Atys, wild with love,
Roams the mount and haunted grove;
Cvbele's name he howls around,
The gloomy blast returns the sound!
Oft too, by Claros' hallowed spring,
The votaries of the laurelled king
Quaff the inspiring, magic stream,
And rave in wild, prophetic dream.
But frenzied dreams are not for me,
Great Bacchus is my deity!
Full of mirth, and full of him,
While floating odors round me swim,
While mantling bowls are full supplied,
And you sit blushing by my side,
I will be mad and raving too--
Mad, my girl, with love for you!

1. From “Irish Melodies”. 61. I’d Mourn the Hopes
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 92. O’Donohue’s Mistress
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 55

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