 | The works of Anacreon, Sappho, Bion, Moschus and Musæus |  |
58
ODE XXI. SUMMER.
Fill, fill, sweet Girls, the foaming Bowl,
And let me gratify my Soul:
I faint with Thirst—the Heat of Day
Has drank my very Life away.
And let me gratify my Soul:
I faint with Thirst—the Heat of Day
Has drank my very Life away.
O! lead me to yon cooling Bowers,
And give me fresher Wreaths of Flowers;
For those that now my Temples shade,
Scorch'd by my burning Forehead, fade:
But O! my Heart, what can remove,
What Wines, what Shades, this Heat of Love?
These are all vain, alas! I find;
Love is the Fever of the Mind.
And give me fresher Wreaths of Flowers;
For those that now my Temples shade,
Scorch'd by my burning Forehead, fade:
59
What Wines, what Shades, this Heat of Love?
These are all vain, alas! I find;
Love is the Fever of the Mind.
| The works of Anacreon, Sappho, Bion, Moschus and Musæus | |