by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)
Translation by Thomas Gounet (1801 - 1869)

Rich and rare were the gems she wore
Language: English 
Available translation(s): FRE
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand. 

"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,
So lone and lovely through this bleak way? 
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
As not to be tempted by woman or gold?" 

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm: -
For though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more!" 

On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the Green Isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with Thomas Moore, A New Edition from the last London Edition, Boston: Lee and Shepard; New York: Lee, Shepard, & Dillingham, 1876.


Authorship

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

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

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

  • FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Les joyaux qu'elle portait étaient rares et précieux", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website: 2003-11-03 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:57
Line count: 16
Word count: 125

La belle voyageuse
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
Elle s'en va seulette; l'or brille à son bandeau;
Au bout de sa baguette etincelle un joyau.
Mais sa beauté surpasse l'éclat de ses rubis.
Et sa blancheur efface la perle au blanc de lys.

Belle, ainsi sans injure penses-tu voyager?
Ta beauté, ta parure appellent le danger.
Les mains les plus fidèles tressaillent devant l'or,
Et les coeurs près des belles tiennent bien moins encor.

Chevalier, dans cette île mon âme ne craint rien;
L'honneur en cet asile est le souverain bien.
Toujours devant nos larmes on le vit s'arrêter.
Pour mon or ou mes charmes que puis-je redouter?

Aux regards découverte, son souris virginal
Par toute l'île verte lui servit de fanal.
Aussi l'as-tu bénie, des harpes doux pays,
Celle qui se confie à l'honneur de tes fils.

Authorship

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)


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Text added to the website: 2003-11-03 00:00:00
Last modified: 2017-02-09 16:28:24
Line count: 16
Word count: 130