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 “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 3
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 50
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 20
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 70
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own

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