Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 37

’Twas night, and many a circling bowl
Had deeply warm’d my thirsty soul;
As lull’d in slumber I was laid,
Bright visions o’er my fancy play’d.
With maidens, blooming as the dawn,
I seem’d to skim the opening lawn;
Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,
We flew, and sported as we flew!
            Some ruddy striplings, who look’d on —
With cheeks, that like the wine-god’s shone,
Saw me chasing, free and wild,
These blooming maids, and slyly smiled;
Smiled indeed with wanton glee,
Though none could doubt they envied me.
And still I flew — and now had caught
The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
To gather from each rosy lip
A kiss that Jove himself might sip —
When sudden all my dream of joys,
Blushing nymphs and laughing boys,
All were gone! — „Alas!” I said,
Sighing for the illusion fled,
„Again, sweet sleep, that scene restore,
Oh! let me dream it o’er and o’er!”

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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