 | The Poems of Ambrose Philips |  |
The Fourth Ode of ANACREON.
On HIMSELF.
Hither Loves and Myrtles bring;
Tender Harvest of the Spring:
Soft and cool, my Limbs recline;
While I give my Self to Wine.
LOVE (his flowing Mantle bound,
With a Sedge, his Neck around)
LOVE Himself shall fill the Bowl:
For Life, hastening to the Goal,
Passes with a rapid Trill;
Swift, as whirls the Chariot Wheel:
And, our Bones to moulder lain,
We, a little Dust, remain.
Tender Harvest of the Spring:
Soft and cool, my Limbs recline;
While I give my Self to Wine.
LOVE (his flowing Mantle bound,
With a Sedge, his Neck around)
LOVE Himself shall fill the Bowl:
For Life, hastening to the Goal,
Passes with a rapid Trill;
Swift, as whirls the Chariot Wheel:
And, our Bones to moulder lain,
We, a little Dust, remain.
Why Ointments on my Stone bestow?
Vainly, why, the Ground bestrow?
Ointments on Me Living shed;
Roses cluster round my Head;
And, oh, bring my Charmer here!
Let me, e'er I disappear,
E'er, O LOVE , I Thither go,
Where they sing and dance, Below;
Let me, while I live, prepare;
Let me banish e'ery Care.
Vainly, why, the Ground bestrow?
Ointments on Me Living shed;
Roses cluster round my Head;
And, oh, bring my Charmer here!
Let me, e'er I disappear,
E'er, O LOVE , I Thither go,
Where they sing and dance, Below;
Let me, while I live, prepare;
Let me banish e'ery Care.
| The Poems of Ambrose Philips | |