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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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39

ODE XXVI.

[When into me great Bacchus flows]

When into me great Bacchus flows,
He gives to sleep a host of woes:
He gives me to believe I hold
Of Crœsus the immortal gold:
Then long I lovelily to sing,
More happy than the Lydian king;
And, crown'd with ivy, lie at large,
Taking of earth no careful charge;
With joy and purple Bacchus fraught,
I kick the universe in thought!
Arm ye who will, but I will drink;
A better warfare, as I think:
Bring me, O boy, my golden cup,
For I will drink a vineyard up;
I will: for not on honour's bed
I mean to rest my happy head—
'Tis better to be drunk, than dead.
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