Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 54

Methinks, the pictured bull we see
Is amorous Jove--it must be he!
How fondly blest he seems to bear
That fairest of Phoenician fair!
How proud he breasts the foamy tide,
And spurns the billowy surge aside!
Could any beast of vulgar vein,
Undaunted thus defy the main?
No: he descends from climes above,
He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 72
2. From “Irish Melodies”. 114. I’ve a Secret to Tell Thee
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 51
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 70. ’Tis Gone, and for Ever
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 102. And Doth Not a Meeting Like This

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