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Select poems of Edward Hovel Thurlow

Lord Thurlow
Thurlow, Edward Hovell-Thurlow (1781-1829)

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THE ODES OF ANACREON, OF TEOS;
 I. 
ODE I.
 II. 
ODE II.
 III. 
ODE III.
 IV. 
ODE IV.
 V. 
ODE V.
 VI. 
ODE VI.
 VII. 
ODE VII.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII.
 IX. 
ODE IX.
 X. 
ODE X.
 XI. 
ODE XI.
 XII. 
ODE XII.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV.
 XV. 
ODE XV.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX.
 XX. 
ODE XX.
 XXI. 
ODE XXI.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII.
 XXIII. 
ODE XXIII.
 XXIV. 
ODE XXIV.
 XXV. 
ODE XXV.
 XXVI. 
ODE XXVI.
 XXVII. 
ODE XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
ODE XXVIII.
 XXX. 
ODE XXX.
 XXXI. 
ODE XXXI.
 XXXII. 
ODE XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
ODE XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
ODE XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
ODE XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
ODE XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
ODE XXXVII.
 XXXVIII. 
ODE XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
ODE XXXIX.
 XL. 
ODE XL.
 XLI. 
ODE XLI.
 XLII. 
ODE XLII.
 XLIII. 
ODE XLIII.
 XLIV. 
ODE XLIV.
 XLV. 
ODE XLV.
 XLVI. 
ODE XLVI.
 XLVII. 
ODE XLVII.
 XLVIII. 
ODE XLVIII.
 XLIX. 
ODE XLIX.
 L. 
ODE L.
 LI. 
ODE LI.
 LII. 
ODE LII.
 LIII. 
ODE LIII.
 LIV. 
ODE LIV.
 LV. 
ODE LV.

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61

ODE XLII.

[I love the choirs of Bacchus gay]

I love the choirs of Bacchus gay,
I love upon the lute to play,
Drinking with a gentle youth:
But what delights me most, in truth,
Is with a virgin to advance,
In the soft and winding dance,
When around her brows she sets
The hyacinthine coronets.
Envy to me is hardly known,
My heart with envy shall not groan:
The arrows of that tongue I fly,
Which is in love with calumny;
Let not such approach me nigh!
Wars, that in our cups are made,
This is the vile Thracian's trade:
My heart with softer thoughts is sway'd,
62

Drinking in the feast of love:
With a virgin let me move,
With a virgin, whose soft breast
Hardly is by love exprest,
Dancing to the wiry song:
Come, O dearest, come along!
Could we to Nestor's age prolong
Our life, that life would not be long.
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