With sweet perfumes to bathe my hair
And frolic with the young and fair.
Let anxious idiots still despise
The joys which wiser men will prize.
Then, while the jovial cup goes round,
To Bacchus let the song resound.
ODE XLII.—ON HIMSELF.
A friend to mirth and harmless sport,
I love the dance which Bacchus taught.
I dearly love to wake the lyre
When wine or love my lays inspire;
But dearer, sweeter joys I prove,
When with gay smiling maids I rove;
While hyacinths sweet odours breathe,
And round my brows their blossoms wreath,
My heart from envious thoughts is free,[1]
And even Envy still spares me:
From Slander's venom'd tongue I fly,
And shun the shafts of calumny.
Fierce quarrels o'er the festive board
My honest heart has e'er abhorr'd:
But, dancing to the lute's soft strain,
I love to join the blooming train.
Oh! let us banish barb'rous strife,
And lead a happy, peaceful life.[2]
ODE XLIII.—ON THE GRASSHOPPER.[3]
None can be more bless'd than thee;
- ↑ Such sentiments as these do honour to the poet, and establish his claim to the title of "the wise Anacreon."
- ↑ Anacreon seems to have esteemed tranquillity the greatest blessing of life: thus, ode 39, "Peaceful pleasures are my theme."
- ↑ This insect, though called a grasshopper, is certainly of a
more forcibly will it apply to our own altered views and circumstances!
