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...
Odes Of Anacreon: Tis true, my fading years decline...
'Tis true, my fading years decline...
by Thomas Moore
'Tis true, my fading years decline,
Yet I can quaff the brimming wine
As deep as any stripling fair,
Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear;
And if, amidst the merry crew,
I'm called to wind the dance's clue,
Thou shalt behold this vigorous hand,
Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand,
But brandishing a rosy flask,
The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask!
Let those, who pant for Glory's charms,
Embrace her in the field of arms;
While my inglorious, placid soul
Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.
Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,
And bathe me in its honey'd wave!
For though my fading years decay,
And though my bloom has pass'd away,
Like old Silenus, sire divine,
With blushes borrowed from my wine,
I'll mingle mid the dancing train,
And live my follies o'er again.
Source:The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
Copyright undated, very old
The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.