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The Works of Tibullus

Containing his Love-Elegies. Translated by Mr Dart. To which is added, The Life of the Author; with Observations on the Original Design of Elegiack Verse; and the Characters of the most Celebrated Greek, Latin and English Elegiack Poets
  

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195

ELEGY VI.

Bacchus attend! So sacred be the Vine;
So may cool Ivy round thy Temples twine.
To heal my Grief thy generous Blessing pour:
Love oft has fled at thy superior Power.
Boy! Let the Glasses crown'd with Liquor stand,
And pour Falernian with a ready Hand.
Ye melancholy Train of Cares, away!
Let Phœbus shine on this auspicious Day,
And his white Steeds diffuse a lively Ray.
You, my dear Friends, the cheerful Banquet join,
Nor baulk your Glass while I dispose the Wine.
He that to join the drinking Match declines,
And shuns the Flavour of the generous Wines;
Him may his Favourite Girl with Wiles deceive,
Oft blind her Crimes, and he as oft believe.

196

The jolly God can Chearfulness impart,
Enlarge the Soul, and raise the joyful Heart;
He brings the stubborn underneath his Rein,
Disarms the Lover of his high Disdain,
And send him suppliant to the Fair again.
Th' Armenian Tyger with his spotted Pride,
The furious Lyon with his tawny Hide
He overcomes, their Anger can asswage,
Soften their Breasts, and quell their cruel Rage.
Love has an equal Power o'er things like these,
Nay can do greater Wonders if he please;
But what is that to us, let us attend
The Gifts that Bacchus does so freely send.
Come drink around, and let the Liquor pass;
Which of you loves to see an empty Glass?
'Tis just, nor Bacchus does the Rule decline,
That they who worship him should drink his Wine.

197

E're long he comes too fierce, and too severe;
Let him drink on who does his Anger fear.
How dire his Punishment, his Pow'r how great;
Agave's Rage will prove, and Pentheus' Fate.
But hence those Fears; let her who strives with Fraud
To veil her Baseness, dread the angry God.
Alas, what do I wish with thoughtless Mind?
May all those Pray'rs be scatter'd in the Wind.
For still believe me my ungenerous Fair,
Though I, neglected, am not worth your Care;
Yet I shall my unweary'd Pray'rs raise,
That you may spend a Life of prosp'rous Days.
But while I talk I trifle Time away;
Come let's repeat the circling Glass, I pray,
And after many Dark, enjoy one lightsome Day.