Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 46

by Anacreon

ODE XLVI.—THE POWER OF GOLD.

A thousand pains we lovers prove,^[1]
Still what were life devoid of love?
But ah! what wo, when doom'd to mourn
The love that never meets return!
In vain we boast of noble birth,
And vain is wisdom, wit, or worth,
Since sordid wealth alone is sought,
And even love with gold is bought.
Oh may he sleep in endless night,
Who brought the shining plague to light;
Who first gave worth to useless ore,
And taught mankind to sigh for more!
Gold breaks through every sacred tie,
And bids a friend or brother die;
The fruitful source of kindred strife,^[2]
Gold would not spare a parent's life.
Long wars and murders, crimes untold,
All spring from cursed thirst of gold;

And I by sad experience know
'Tis gold that works the lover's wo!

1. "Oh, love! what is it in this world of ours
   Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah! why
   With cypress branches hast thou wreath'd thy bowers,
   And made thy best interpreter a sigh?
   As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers,
   And place them on their breast—but place to die.
   Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish
   Are laid within our bosoms but to perish."

   Thus sings the bard; the magic of whose verse, in spite of reason, leads the fancy captive; the efforts of whose mighty genius will be regarded by future ages with sentiments of admiration, pleasure, and regret. For him the muses wove their brightest wreaths: why did he perversely mingle weeds, rank, poisonous weeds, with their sweet perennial flowers?
2. The ancient poets are loud in their invectives against the "auri sacra fames." Ovid says,
   

   "This is the golden age; all worship gold:
   Honours are purchased, love and beauty sold.
   Our iron age is grown an age of gold,
   'Tis who bids most, for all men would be sold."