. Anacreon : . ay Ive gone,That which is to comes thoughts do not disturb me;What have you to do to curb me ?Come, some wine and music give:Ere we die, tis fit we live, * :*?>.. ^^ 28 [0?i Hhnselj.] XXV. When •svith wine my soul is armd,All my grief and tears are charmd ;Life in toils why should we waste,When were sure to die at last ?Drink we then, nor Bacchus spare:Wines the antidote of Care. ?? 29 \_0n Himself.]XXVI. When my sense in wine I my cares are lulld asleep:Rich in thought, I then despiseCroesus, and his royalties ;Whilst with ivy twines I wreath meAnd sin
. Anacreon : . ay Ive gone,That which is to comes thoughts do not disturb me;What have you to do to curb me ?Come, some wine and music give:Ere we die, tis fit we live, * :*?>.. ^^ 28 [0?i Hhnselj.] XXV. When •svith wine my soul is armd,All my grief and tears are charmd ;Life in toils why should we waste,When were sure to die at last ?Drink we then, nor Bacchus spare:Wines the antidote of Care. ?? 29 \_0n Himself.]XXVI. When my sense in wine I my cares are lulld asleep:Rich in thought, I then despiseCroesus, and his royalties ;Whilst with ivy twines I wreath meAnd sing all the world beneath run to martial fights,I to Bacchuss dehghts ;Fill the cup then, boy, for IDrunk than dead had rather lie. :?! 30 [To Dionysus.]XXVII. JovE-born Bacchus, when possest(Care-exiling) of my breast,In a sprightly sarabandGuides my foot and ready hand,Which an even measure setsTwixt my voice and castanets;Tird we sit and kiss, and thenTo our dancing fall again ^?S! M ? *^. 31 The Painter, by unmatchd desertMaster of the Rhodian art,Corae, my absent mistress take,As I shall describe her: makeFirst her hair, as black as if colors so much rightCan but do her, let it tooSmell of aromatic dew ;Underneath this shade, must thouDraw her alabaster brow ;Her dark eyebrows so disposeThat they neither part nor close. 32 But by a divorce so slightBe disjoind, may cheat the sight:From her kindly killing eyeMake a flash of lightning fly,Sparkling like Minervas, yetLike Cytheras mildly sweet:Roses in milk swimming seekFor the pattern of her cheek:In her lip such moving blisses,As from all may challenge kisses ;Round about her neck (outvyingParian stone) the Graces flying ;And oer all her limbs at lastA loose purple mantle cast;But so ordered that the eyeSome part naked may descry,An essay by which the restThat lies hidden may be , to life th hast come so near,All of her, but voice, is here. 33 Another. XXIX. Draw my fair as I co
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