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...
When my thirsty soul I steep...
By Thomas Moore
When my thirsty soul I steep,
Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep.
Talk of monarchs! I am then
Richest, happiest, first of men;
Careless o'er my cup I sing,
Fancy makes me more than king;
Gives me wealthy Croesus' store,
Can I, can I wish for more?
On my velvet couch reclining,
Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
While my soul dilates with glee,
What are kings and crowns to me?
If before my feet they lay,
I would spurn them all away;
Arm you, arm you, men of might,
Hasten to the sanguine fight;
Let me, O my budding vine,
Spill no other blood than thine.
Yonder brimming goblet see,
That alone shall vanquish me.
Oh! I think it sweeter far
To fall in banquet than in war!
Source Book
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore.
by Thomas Moore
Copyright undated, very old
Published by The Walter Scott Publishing Co. Ltd.
