Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “Irish Melodies”. 57. Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own

OH! had we some bright little isle of our own,
In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone,
Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,
And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers;
         Where the sun loves to pause
               With so fond a delay,
         That the night only draws
               A thin veil o’er the day;
Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,
Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.

There with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime,
We should love, as they loved in the first golden time;
The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,
Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there.
         With affection as free
               From decline as the bowers,
         And, with hope, like the bee,
               Living always on flowers,
Our life should resemble a long day of light,
And our death come on, holy and calm as the night.

1. Савойская ария • Oft, When the Watching Stars Grow Pale
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 69
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 34
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 99. ’Twas One of Those Dreams
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 32

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