Poem by Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 20. The Song of Fionnuala

          SILENT, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
                Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,
          While, murmuring mournfully, Lir’s lonely daughter
                Tell’s to the night-star her tale of woes.
          When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
                Sleep, with wings in darkness furl’d?
          When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
                Call my spirit from this stormy world?

          Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping,
                Fate bids me languish long ages away;
          Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
                Still doth the pure light its dawning delay.
          When will that day-star, mildly springing,
                Warm our isle with peace and love?
          When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,
                Call my spirit to the fields above?

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 54
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 52
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 113. Alone in Crowds to Wander On
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 56
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 38

Print

1483 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version