Thomas Moore (Томас Мур)

From “Irish Melodies”. 67. The Time I've Lost

          THE time I’ve lost in wooing,
          In watching and pursuing
                    The light that lies
                    In woman’s eyes,
          Has been my heart’s undoing.
          Though Wisdom oft has sought me,
          I scorn’d the lore she brought me,
                    My only books
                    Were woman’s looks,
          And folly’s all they’ve taught me.

          Her smile when Beauty granted,
          I hung with gaze enchanted,
                    Like him the Sprite,
                    Whom maids by night
          Oft meet in glen that’s haunted.
          Like him, too, Beauty won me,
          But while her eyes were on me,
                    If once their ray
                    Was turn’d away,
          O! winds could not outrun me.
          And are those follies going?
          And is my proud heart growing
                    Too cold or wise
                    For brilliant eyes
          Again to set it glowing?
          No, vain, alas! the endeavour
          From bonds so sweet to sever;
                    Poor Wisdom’s chance
                    Against a glance
          Is now as weak as ever.

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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