Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 75

Spirit of Love, whose locks unrolled,
Stream on the breeze like floating gold;
Come, within a fragrant cloud
Blushing with light, thy votary shroud;
And, on those wings that sparkling play,
Waft, oh, waft me hence away!
Love! my soul is full of thee,
Alive to all thy luxury.
But she, the nymph for whom I glow,
The lovely Lesbian mocks my woe;
Smiles at the chill and hoary hues,
That time upon my forehead strews.
Alas! I fear she keeps her charms,
In store for younger, happier arms!

1. День текущий -- день наш, дорогая! • To-Day, Dearest! Is Ours
2. Савойская ария • Oft, When the Watching Stars Grow Pale
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 63
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 60
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 43

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