Thomas Moore ( )

From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 31

Armd with hyacinthine rod,
(Arms enough for such a god,)
Cupid bade me wing my pace,
And try with him the rapid race.
Oer many a torrent, wild and deep,
By tangled brake and pendent steep,
With weary foot I panting flew,
Till my brow droppd with chilly dew.
And now my soul, exhausted, dying,
To my lip was faintly flying;
And now I thought the spark had fled,
When Cupid hoverd oer my head,
And fanning light his breezy pinion,
Rescued my soul from deaths dominion;
Then said, in accents half-reproving,
Why hast thou been a foe to loving?

Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 61. Id 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. ODonohues Mistress
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 68

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