. Anacreon : . or unbarrd;Where a little boy appears,Who wings, bow, and quiver bears;Near the fiie I made him stand,With my own I chafd his hand,And with kindly busy careWrung the chill drops from his well warmd he was, and dry, Now, saith he, tis time to tryIf my bow no hurt did methinks the string is that, drawing it, a dartHe let fly that piercd my heart;Leaping tlien, and laughing said, Come, my friend, with me be glad;For my bow thou seest is sound,Since thy heart hath got a wound. [On Himself.\ IV. On this verdant lotus laid,Underneath the myrtles shade,Let us
. Anacreon : . or unbarrd;Where a little boy appears,Who wings, bow, and quiver bears;Near the fiie I made him stand,With my own I chafd his hand,And with kindly busy careWrung the chill drops from his well warmd he was, and dry, Now, saith he, tis time to tryIf my bow no hurt did methinks the string is that, drawing it, a dartHe let fly that piercd my heart;Leaping tlien, and laughing said, Come, my friend, with me be glad;For my bow thou seest is sound,Since thy heart hath got a wound. [On Himself.\ IV. On this verdant lotus laid,Underneath the myrtles shade,Let us drink our sorrows dead,Whilst Love plays the like to a wheel runs round,And ere long, we underground(Taen by death asunder) mustMoulder in forgotten then graves should we bedew ?Why the ground with odours strew ?Better whilst alive, prepareFlowers and unguents for our , my fair one! come away;All our cares behind us lay,That these pleasures we may know,Ere we come to those 6 Hoses, V. Roses (Loves delight) lets joinTo the red-cheekd God of Wine ;Roses crown us, while we laugh,And the juice of Autumn quaff!Roses of all flowers the king,Roses the fresh pride o th Spring,Joy of every , when with the Graces heFor the ball himself his golden hair with then with these our to Bacchus temple go:There some willing beauty a youthful measure tread. Another. VI. Now with roses we are crownd,Let our mirth and cups go a lass, whose hand a spearBranchd with ivy twines doth bear,With her white feet beats the groundTo the lutes harmonious sound,Playd on by some boy, whose choiceSkill is heightend by his voice;Bright-haird Love, with his divineMother, and the God of Wine,Will flock hither, glad to seeOld men of their company. The Chase. VII. With a whip of lilies, LoveSwiftly me before him drove;Ou we coursd it, through deep valleys, and rough woods,Till a snake that lur
Size: 1330px × 1879px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidanacreon00an, bookyear1894
