Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 54
ODE LIV.—ON HIMSELF.
While I view the youthful throng,
Fancy whispers I am young!
To the merry dance I fly,
Who so gay, so brisk as I?
Haste, Cybele, bring me flowers,
Bring sweet roses from the bowers;
Quick a graceful garland twine,
Youthful vigour still is mine.
Hateful, hoary age, away!
Let me sport with striplings gay;
Bring the bright autumnal bowl—
Age can ne'er subdue the soul.
Still I raise the cheerful strain,
Still the brimming bowl I drain;
Still with native humour gay,
Sport the happy hours away!