Odes Of Anacreaon:
I care not for the idle state...
One day the Muses twined the hands...
Observe when mother earth is dry...
To all that breathe the airs of heaven...
Yes -- loving is a painful thrill...
If hoarded gold possess'd a power...
Yes, be the glorious revel mine...
Within this goblet rich and deep...
'Tis true, my fading years decline...
When my thirsty soul I steep...
Away, away, you men of rules...
And whose immortal hand could shed...
Golden hues of youth are fled...
Fill me, boy, as deep a draught...
Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn...
Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray...
Let me resign a wretched breath...
I know thou lovest a brimming measure...
I fear that love disturbs my rest...
From dread Leucadia's frowning steep...
Mix me, child, a cup divine...
Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn...
By Thomas Moore
Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn,
The stream of Amalthea's horn!
Nor should I ask to call the throne
Of the Tartessian prince my own;
To totter through his train of years,
The victim of declining fears.
One little hour of joy to me
Is worth a dull eternity!
Source Book
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
by Thomas Moore
Copyright undated, very old
Published by The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.
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Odes Of Anacreon: Rich in bliss, I proudly scorn...
by Thomas Moore
