Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 6

As late I sought the spangled bowers
To cull a wreath of matin flowers,
Where many an early rose was weeping,
I found the urchin Cupid sleeping.
I caught the boy, a goblet’s tide
Was richly mantling by my side,
I caught him by his downy wing,
And whelm’d him in the racy spring.
Then drank I down the poison’d bowl,
And Love now nestles in my soul.
O yes, my soul is Cupid’s nest,
I feel him fluttering in my breast.

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 68

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