Lyric Poems

Old Age

by Anacreon

The women tell me everyday

That all my bloom has passed away,

"Behold," the pretty wantons cry,

"Behold this mirror with a sigh;

The locks upon thy brow are few,

And, like the rest, they're withering too!"

Whether decline has thinned my hair,

I'm sure I neither know nor care;

But I know and this I feel,

As onward to the tomb I steal,

That still as death approaches nearer,

The joys of life are sweeter, dearer,

and had I but an hour to live,

that little hour to bliss I'd give.

Wiser Parts

by Anacreon

I care not for the idle state
Of Persia's king, the rich, the great!
I envy not the monarch's throne,
Nor wish the treasured gold my own.
But oh! be mine the rosy braid,
The fervour of my brows to shade;
Be mine the odours, richly sighing,
Amidst my hoary tresses flying.
To-day I'll haste to quaff my wine
As if to-morrow ne'er would shine;
But if to-morrow comes, why then --
I'll haste to quaff my wine again.
And thus while all our days are bright,
Nor time has dimmed their bloomy light,
Let us the festal hours beguile
With mantling cup and cordial smile;
And shed from every bowl of wine
The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine!
For Death may come, with brow unpleasant,
May come when least we wish him present,
And beckon to the sable shore,
And grimly bid us -- drink no more!

Nature's Gift

by Anacreon

To all that breathe the air of heaven,
Some boon of strength has Nature given.
In forming the majestic bull,
She fenced with wreathed horns his skull;
A hoof of strength she lent the steed,
And winged the timorous hare with speed.
She gave the lion fangs of terror,
And, o'er the ocean's crystal mirror,
Taught the unnumbered scaly throng
To trace their liquid path along;
While for the umbrage of the grove,
She plumed the warbling world of love.

To man she gave, in that proud hour,
The boon of intellectual power.
Then, what, oh woman, what, for thee,
Was left in Nature's treasury?
She gave thee beauty--mightier far
Than all the pomp and power of war.
Nor steel, nor fire itself hath power
Like woman, in her conquering hour.
Be thou but fair, mankind adore thee,
Smile, and a world is weak before thee!