ANACREON: TO HIMSELF.

WHEN I drink of wine, in gladness

Calls my heart upon the Muses;

To the sea-drenched blasts care flinging,

And the weary meditations.

When I drink of wine, then Bacchus

In the morning air flower-scented,

With the wine-drop sparkling, shakes me,

He the sportive, merry Bacchus.

When I drink of wine, with flowers

Into garlands woven, crowned,

Of a lifetime passed in quiet

And repose, sing I the praises.

When I drink of wine, my body

With the sweet myrrh oil I moisten,

And I sing of Love, while clasping

In my curving arms a maiden.

When I drink of wine, this only

Is the booty which I gather;

This I take, and soon shall vanish,

For the end Death is of all things.