Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 6

As late I sought the spangled bowers
To cull a wreath of matin flowers,
Where many an early rose was weeping,
I found the urchin Cupid sleeping.
I caught the boy, a goblet’s tide
Was richly mantling by my side,
I caught him by his downy wing,
And whelm’d him in the racy spring.
Then drank I down the poison’d bowl,
And Love now nestles in my soul.
O yes, my soul is Cupid’s nest,
I feel him fluttering in my breast.

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 26
4. From “Irish Melodies”. 115. Song of Innisfail
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 60

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