Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 69

They wove the lotus band to deck
And fan with pensile wreath each neck;
And every guest, to shade his head,
Three little fragrant chaplets spread;
And one was of the Egyptian leaf,
The rest were roses, fair and brief:
While from a golden vase profound,
To all on flowery beds around,
A Hebe, of celestial shape,
Poured the rich droppings of the grape!

1. Савойская ария • Oft, When the Watching Stars Grow Pale
2. День текущий -- день наш, дорогая! • To-Day, Dearest! Is Ours
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 24. Sublime Was the Warning
4. Cupid Armed
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 120. Oh, Could We Do with This World of Ours

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