Greek lyric poet (570 BC-488 BC)
All are stoics in the grave.
ANACREON, Ode IV, Odes
Venus, queen of soft desire,
Leading Hymen's happy choir.
ANACREON, Ode XVIII, Odes
Horns to bulls wise Nature lends;
Horses she with hoofs defends;
Hares with nimble feet relieves;
Dreadful teeth to lions gives;
Fishes learn through streams to slide;
Birds through yielding air to glide;
Men with courage she supplies;
But to women these denies.
What then gives she? Beauty, this
Both their arms and armour is:
She, that can this weapon use,
Fire and sword with ease subdues.
The fertile earth imbibes the rain;
The trees her moisture drink again;
The swelling ocean drinks the gales,
From him the thirsty sun exhales:
The moon, as thirsty, copious streams
Insatiate drinks of solar beams.
In drinking, then, since all agree,
What friend can justly censure me?
ANACREON, Ode XIX, Odes
Ah, cruel 'tis to love,
And cruel not to love,
But cruelest of all
To love and love in vain.
ANACREON, Ode XXIX, Odes
But O! my heart, what shade can prove
Thy guard against this heat of Love?
ANACREON, Ode XXI, Odes
Oft am I by the Women told,
Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old,
Look how thy hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon how they fall.
Whether I grow old or no,
By th' Effects I do not know.
This I know without being told,
'Tis time to Live, if I grow Old.
'Tis time short Pleasures now to take;
Of little Life the best to make,
And manage wisely the last Stake.
ANACREON, Ode X, Odes
My Passion uncontrolled shall rove,
Doubly debauched with Wine and Love.
ANACREON, Ode XII, Odes
But since We Mortals vainly try
To purchase Immortality,
It is as vain to Sigh and Grieve,
And fearing Death, neglect to Live.
ANACREON, "On Gold, to a Miser"
Who his cups can stoutly bear,
In his cups despiseth fear,
In his cups can nimbly dance,
Him Lyaeus will advance:
Nectar of us mortals wine,
The glad offspring of the vine,
Screen'd with leaves, preserv'd within
The plump grape's transparent skin,
In the body all diseases,
In the soul all grief appeases.
ANACREON, "Wine the Healer"
Carve for me, O admirable artist, the pleasant cup of Spring.
ANACREON, Ode XVIII, Odes
To-day belongs to me,
To-morrow who can tell.
ANACREON, Ode VIII, Odes
I both love and do not love; am mad and not mad.
And last of all comes death.
Great Bacchus every trouble cures;
Then drink as long as life endures.
For, whilst we drain the rosy bowl,
'Tis all a sunshine of the soul!
ANACREON, Ode XXV, Odes
Pretty Rose, thou gaudy flower,
Sacred to Love's almighty power,
Whence there's no Lover ever seeks,
But finds Thee in his Mistress' cheeks.
ANACREON, Ode V, Odes
Had heaps of treasured gold the power
To stay the life-resigning hour,
My heart from pleasure I'd withhold,
And live alone to hoard up gold;
That royal bribes, from day to day,
Might charm the tyrant Death away.
But, since no treasured heaps have power
To stay the fate-compelling hour,
Insensate why should I complain,
And render life's short blessings vain?
I ask but for the generous bowl,
With friends, whose converse glads the soul:
And, that on downy beds the charms
Of my sweet girl may bless my arms.
ANACREON, Ode XXIII, Odes
Let others seek renown in arms;
For me wine's wars have greater charms:
Then fill the bowl, boy; fill it high:
'Tis better drunk, than dead to lie.
ANACREON, Ode XXVI, Odes
When an old man dances,
His locks with age are grey.
But he's a child in mind.
ANACREON, Ode XXXIX, Odes
Thus, while I quaff the genial wine,
I live mid transports quite divine.
ANACREON, Ode XXVII, Odes