by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)
Translation © by Pierre Mathé

At the mid hour of night, when stars are...
Language: English  after the English 
Available translation(s): FRE
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
  And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
  To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky.
Then I sing the wild song [it once was rapture to hear]1,
When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
  And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
  I think, O my love! 'tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.	

About the headline (FAQ)

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1 in another edition of Moore, "'twas once such pleasure to hear!" (this edition also changes "loved" to "lov'd" and "breathed" to "breath'd"


Based on:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "À l'heure de la minuit", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2010-04-10
Line count: 10
Word count: 118

À l'heure de la minuit
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
À l'heure de la minuit, lorsque pleurent les étoiles, je vole
Vers la vallée solitaire que nous aimions quand la vie brillait dans tes yeux ;
Et je pense souvent que si les esprits peuvent s'échapper des régions  aériennes
Pour revoir d'anciennes scènes délicieuses, alors tu viendras me voir ici,
Et tu me diras que même au ciel, on se souvient de notre amour.

Je chante alors ce chant sauvage qui naguère te ravissait,
Quand nos voix l'une à l'autre mêlées semblaient une à l'oreille ;
Et tandis qu'Écho roule ma triste oraison à travers la vallée,
Je pense, ô mon amour ! Que c'est ta voix venue du Royaume des Âmes
Qui répond imperceptiblement à ces accents autrefois si chers.


  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.

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This text was added to the website: 2014-04-16
Line count: 10
Word count: 121