Anacreon

"To-day belongs to me, To-morrow who can tell."

"Persuasion's flowing well."

"The black earth drinks, in turn The trees drink up the earth. The sea the torrents drinks, the sun the sea, And the moon drinks the sun. Why, comrades, do ye flout me, If I, too, wish to drink?"

"Nature gave horns to the bull, Hoofs gave she to the horse. To the lion cavernous jaws, And swiftness to the hare. The fish taught she to swim, The bird to cleave the air; To man she reason gave; Not yet was woman dowered. What, then, to woman gave she? The priceless gift of beauty. Stronger than any buckler, Than any spear more piercing, Who hath the gift of beauty, Nor fire nor steel shall harm her."

"Ah, cruel 'tis to love, And cruel not to love, But cruelest of all To love and love in vain."

"Love for lineage nothing cares, Tramples wisdom under foot, Worth derides, and only looks For money."

"Cursed be he above all others Who's enslaved by love of money. Money takes the place of brothers, Money takes the place of parents, Money brings us war and slaughter."

"Whence can we the future learn? Life to mortals is obscure."

"But when an old man dances, His locks with age are grey, But he's a child in mind."

"I fled the headless darts of slanderous tongue."

"E'en though I would not, die I must; Why stray I thus through life?"

"And last of all comes death."

"I see Anacreon smile and sing; His silver tresses breathe perfume, His cheek displays a second spring Of roses, taught by wine to bloom. Away, deceitful cares, away! And let me listen to his lay; While flowery dreams my soul employ; While turtle-wing'd the laughing hours, Lead hand in hand the festal powers, Lead youth and love, and harmless joy."

"This tomb be thine, Anacreon; all around Let ivy wreath, let flow'rets deck the ground, And from its earth, enrich'd by such a prize, Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise: So will thine ashes yet a pleasure know, If any pleasure reach the shades below."

"All thy verse is softer far Than the downy feathers are Of my wings, or of my arrows, Of my mother's doves or sparrows. Sweet as lovers' freshest kisses, Or their riper following blisses, Graceful, cleanly, smooth, and round, All with Venus girdle bound."

"It grieves me when I see what fate Does on the best of mankind wait. Poets or lovers let them be, 'Tis neither love nor poesy Can arm against death's smallest dart The poet's head, or lover's heart. For when their life in its decline Touches th' inevitable line, All the world's mortal to 'em then, And wine is aconite to men. Nay, in death's hand the grape-stone proves Fatal as thunder is in Jove's."

"Nec si quid olim lusit Anacreon, delevit aetas."

"With roses crown'd, on flowers supinely laid, Anacreon [blithe] the sprightly lyre essay'd, In light fantastic measures beat the ground, Or dealt the mirth-inspiring juice around: No care, no thought, the tuneful Teian knew, But mark'd with bliss each moment as it flew."