University of Virginia Library

ANACREON.

The Lute.

I.

Of th'Atrides I would sing,
Or the wandring Theban King;
But when I my Lute did prove,
Nothing it would sound but Love;
I new strung it, and to play
Herc'les labours did essay;
But my pains I fruitlesse found,
Nothing it but Love would sound;
Heroes then farewell, my Lute
To all strains, but Love, is mute.

Beauty.

II.

Hornes to Buls wise Nature lends:
Horses she with hoofs defends:
Hares with nimble feet relieves:
Dreadful teeth to Lions gives:
Fishes learns through streams to slide:
Birds through yeelding air to glide:
Men with courage she supplies:
But to Women these denies.
What then gives she? Beauty, this
Both their arms and armour is:
She, that can this weapon use,
Fire and sword with ease subdues.

Loves Night walk.

III.

Downward was the wheeling Bear
Driven by the Waggoner:
Men by powerful sleep opprest,
Gave their busie troubles rest:
Love, in this still depth of night,
Lately at my house did light:
Where perceiving all fast lockt,
At the door he boldly knockt:
Who'se that (said I) that does keep
Such a noise, and breaks my sleep?
Ope saith Love, for pity hear;
Tis a Childe, thou need'st not fear,
Wet and weary, from his way
Led by this dark night astray:
With compassion this I heard;
Light I struck; the door unbarr'd:
Where a little Boy appears,
Who wings, bow, and quiver bears;
Near the fire I made him stand;
With my own I chaf't his hand;
And with kindly busie care
Wrung the chill drops from his hair:
When well warm'd he was, and dry,
Now saith he tis time to try
If my bow no hurt did get,
For me thinks the string is wet:
With that, drawing it, a dart
He let fly that pierc'd my heart:
Leaping then, and laughing said,
Come my friend with me be glad;
For my Bow thou seest is sound,
Since thy heart hath got a wound.

IV.

[On this verdant Lotus laid]

Roses.

V.

Roses (Loves delight) let's joyn
To the red-cheek'd God of wine:
Roses crown us, while we laugh,
And the juyce of Autumn quaff:
Roses of all flowers the King:
Roses the fresh pride o'th' Spring:
Joy of every Deitie;
Love, when with the Graces he
For the Ball himself disposes,
Crowns his golden hair with Roses.
Circling then with these our brow
Wee'l to Bacchus Temple go:
There some willing Beauty lead,
And a youthful measure tread.

Another.

VI.

Now with Roses we are crown'd
Let our mirth and cups go round:
Whilst a Lasse, whose hand a spear
Branch'd with Ivy twines doth bear,
With her white feet beats the ground,
To the Lutes harmonious sound,
Playd on by some Boy whose choice
Skill is heightned by his voice:
Bright-haird Love, with his divine
Mother, and the God of wine
Will flock hither, glad to see
Old men of their companie.

The Chace.

VII.

With a whip of Lillies, Love
Swiftly me before him drove:
On we courst it, through deep floods,
Hollow valleys, and rough woods,
Till a Snake that lurking lay
Chanc'd to sting me by the way:
Now my soul was nigh to death,
Ebbing, flowing with my breath;
When Love, fanning with his wings,
Back my fleeting spirit brings;
Learn (saith he) another day
Love without constraint t'obey.

The Dream.

VIII.

As on Purple Carpets I
Charm'd by wine in slumber ly,
With a troop of Maids (resorted
There to play) me thought I sported:
Whose companions, lovely Boies,
Interrupt me with rude noise:
Yet I offer made to kisse them,
But o'th' sudden wake and misse them:
Vext to see them thus forsake me,
I to sleep again betake me.

The Dove.

IX.

Love in Wax.

X.

As Loves image, to be sold,
Wrought in wax I did behold,
To the man I went; what is
Friend said I the price of this?
Give me what you please (he said)
This belongs not to my trade,
And so dangerous a guest
In my house I'me loth should rest.
Give m'him for this piece, said I,
And the Boy with me shall ly:
But Love see thou now melt me,
Or Ile do as much for thee.

The old Lover.

XI.

By the women I am told
'Lasse Anacreon thou grow'st old,
Take thy glasse and look else, there
Thou wilt see thy temples bare;
Whether I be bald or no
That I know not, this I know,
Pleasures, as lesse time to try
Old men have, they more should ply.

The Swallow.

XII.

Chattering Swallow, what shall we,
Shall we do to punish thee?
Shall we clip thy wings, or cut
Tereus like thy shrill tongue out?
Who Rodantha driv'st away
From my dreams, by break of day.

XIII.

[Atis though deserted groves]

Atis though deserted groves
Cybele invoking roves:
And like madness them befell
Who were drunk at Phæbus Well:
But I willingly will prove
Both these Furies, Wine, and love.

The Combat.

XIV.

Now will I a lover be,
Love himself commanded me.
Full at first of stubborn pride,
To submit, my soul denide:
He his Quiver takes and Bow,
Bids defiance, forth I go,
Arm'd with spear and shield; we met:
On he charges, I retreat:
Till perceiving in the fight
He had wasted every flight,
Into me, with fury hot,
Like a dart himself he shot,
And my cold heart melts: my shield
Uselesse, no defence could yield;
For what boots an outward skreen
When (alas) the fights within?

XV.

[I not care for Gyges sway]

The Captive.

XVI.

Thou of Thebes, of Troy sings He,
I my own captivitie;
'Twas no Army, horse or foot,
Nor a Navy brought me too't,
But a stranger Enemy
Shot me from my Mistresse eye.

The Cup.

XVII.

Vulcan come, thy hammer take,
And of burnisht silver make
(Not a glittering armour, for
What have we to do with war?
But) a large deep Bowle, and on it
I would have thee carve, (no Planet
Pleiads Waines nor Waggoners,
What have we to do with stars?
But to life exactly shape)
Clusters of the juicy grape;
Whilst brisk Love, their bleeding heads
Hand in hand with Bacchus treads.

Another.

XVIII.

All thy skill if thou collect,
Make a Cup as I direct:
Roses climbing ore the brim,
Yet must seem in Wine to swim;
Faces too there should be there,
None that frowns or wrinkles weare,
But the sprightly Son of Jove,
With the beauteous Queen of Love;
There, beneath a pleasant shade
By a Vines wide branches made,
Must the Loves, their armes laid by,
Keep the Graces company:
And the bright-haird God of day
With a youthful Beavy play.

XIX.

[Fruitful Earth drinks up the rain]

Fruitful Earth drinks up the rain,
Trees from Earth drink that again,
The Sea drinks the Air, the Sun
Drinks the Sea, and him the Moon:
Is it reason then d'ee think
I should thirst when all else drink.

The Wish.

XX.

Niobe on Phrygian sands
Turn'd a weeping Statue stands:
And the Pandionian Maid
In a Swallows wings arraid;
But a Mirrour I would be,
To be lookt on still by Thee;
Or the Gown wherein thou'rt drest,
That I might thy Limbs invest;
Or a Chrystal Spring, wherein
Thou might'st bath thy purer skin;
Or sweet Unguents, to anoint
And make supple every Joynt;
Or a Knot, thy Breast to deck;
Or a Chain, to clasp thy Neck;
Or thy Shoe I wish to be,
That thou might'st but tread on me.

XXI.

[Reach me here that full crown'd Cup]

Reach me here that full crown'd Cup,
And at once I'le drink it up;
For my overcharged Breast
Pants for drowth, with care opprest;
Whilst a Chaplet of cool Roses
My distemper'd Brow incloses;
Love I'le drench in Wine; for these
Flames alone can his appease.

The Invitation.

XXII.

Come my Fair, the heat t'evade
Let us sit beneath this shade;
See, the Tree doth bow his head,
And his armes t'invite thee spread;
Hark, the kinde perswasive Spring
Murmurs at thy tarrying;
Who molested by the Sun
Would so sweet a refuge shun?

XXIII.

[If I thought that Gold had power]

If I thought that Gold had power
To prolong my Life one hour,
I should lay it up, to fee
Death, when come to summon me;
But if Life cannot be bought,
Why complain I then for nought?
Death not brib'd at any price,
To what end is Avarice?
Fill me then some Wine; but see
That it brisk and racy be,
Such as may cold bloods inflame,
For by Bacchus arm'd, wee'l aime
At Cythera's highest pleasure;
Wine and Love's the onely treasure.

XXIV.

[I am sprung of humane seed]

I am sprung of humane seed,
For a lives short race decree'd;
Though I know the way I've gone,
That which is to come's unknown;
Busie thoughts do not disturb me;
What have you to do to curb me?
Come, some Wine and Musick give;
Ere we dye, 'tis fit we live.

XXV.

[VVhen with Wine my soul is arm'd]

VVhen with Wine my soul is arm'd,
All my grief and tears are charm'd;
Life in toils why should we wast,
When we're sure to dye at last?
Drink we then, nor Bacchus spare;
Wine's the Antidote of Care.

XXVI.

[VVhen my sense in Wine I steep]

VVhen my sense in Wine I steep,
All my cares are lull'd asleep:
Rich in thought, I then despise
Cræsus, and his royalties:
Whilst with Ivy twines I wreath me,
And sing all the World beneath me;
Others run to martial fights,
I to Bacchus's delights;
Fill the cup then Boy, for I
Drunk then dead had rather ly.

XXVII.

[Jove born Bacchus when possest]

Jove born Bacchus when possest
(Care exiling) of my breast,
In a sprightly Saraband
Guides my foot and ready hand,
Which an even measure sets
'Twixt my voice and Castanets;
Tir'd we sit and kiss; and then
To our dancing fall agen.

The Picture.

XXVIII.

Painter, by unmatch'd desert
Master of the Rhodian art,
Come, my absent Mistresse take
As I shall describe her; make
First her Hair, as black as bright,
And if colours so much right
Can but do her, let it too
Smell of Aromatick dew;
Underneath this Shade, must thou
Draw her Alabaster Brow;
Her dark Eye-brows so dispose
That they neither part nor close.
But by a divorce so slight
Be disjoyn'd, may cheat the sight:
From her kindly killing Eye
Make a flash of lightning flye,
Sparkling like Minerva's, yet
Like Cythera's mildly sweet:
Roses in milk swimming seek
For the pattern of her Cheek:
In her lip such moving blisses
As from all may challenge kisses;
Round about her neck (outvying
Parian stone) the Graces flying;
And o're all her Limbs at last
A loose purple mantle cast,
But so ordered that the eye
Some part naked may descry,
An Essay by which the rest
That lies hidden may be ghest.
So; to life th'hast come so neer
All of her, but voice, is here.

Another.

XXIX.

Draw my Fair as I command,
Whilst my fancy guides thy hand.
Black her hair must be, yet bright,
Tipt, as with a golden light,
In loose curls thrown o're her Dresse
With a graceful carelessnesse;
On each side her forehead crown
With an Arch of Sable down;
In her black and sprightly Eye
Sweetness mix with Majesty,
That the soul of every Lover
There 'twixt hope and fear may hover:
In her Cheek a blushing red
Must by Bashfulness be spread;
Such her lips as if from thence
Stole a silent Eloquence:
Round her Face, her Forehead high,
Neck surpassing Ivory;
But why all this care to make
Her description need we take?
Draw her with exactest Art
After Venus in each part;
Or to Samos go, and there
Venus thou mayst draw by Her.

Love imprison'd.

XXX.

Love, in Rosy Fetters caught,
To my Fair the Muses brought;
Gifts his Mother did prefer
To release the Prisoner;
But hee'd not be gone though free,
Pleas'd with his Captivity.

XXXI.

[Prethee trouble me no more]

Prethee trouble me no more;
I will drink, be mad, and rore:
Alcmæ'on and Orestes grew
Mad, when they their Mothers slew:
But I no man having kill'd
Am with hurtless fury fill'd;
Hercules with madness strook
Bent his Bow, his Quiver shook;
Ajax mad, did fiercely wield
Hectors Sword, and graspt his Shield:
I nor Spear nor Target have,
But this Cup (my weapon) wave:
Crown'd with roses, thus for more
Wine I call, drink, dance, and rore.

The Accompt.

XXXII.

If thou dost the number know
Of the Leaves on every Bough,
If thou canst the reck'ning keep
Of the Sands within the Deep;
Thee of all men will I take,
And my Loves Accomptant make.
Of Athenians first a score
Set me down; then fifteen more:
Adde a Regiment to these
of Corinthian Mistresses;
For the most renown'd for fair
In Achæa, sojourn there;
Next our Lesbian beauties tell;
Those that in Ionia dwell;
Those of Rhodes and Caria count;
To two thousand they amount.
Wonder'st thou I love so many?
'Lass of Syria we not any,
Ægypt yet, nor Creet have told,
Where his Orgies Love doth hold.
What to those then wilt thou say
Which in Eastern Bactria,
Or the Western Gades remain?
But give o're, thou toilst in vain;
For the Sum which thou dost seek
Puzzels all Arithmetick.

The Swallow.

XXXIII.

Gentle Swallow, thou we know
Every year dost come and go,
In the Spring thy nest thou mak'st;
In the Winter it forsak'st,
And divert'st thy self awhile
Near the Memphian Towers, or Nile;
But Love in my suff'ring breast
Builds, and never quits his nest;
First one Love's hatcht; when that flies
In the shell another lies;
Then a third is half expos'd;
Then a whole brood is disclos'd,
Which for meat still peeping cry,
Whilst the others that can fly
Do their callow brethren feed,
And grown up, they young ones breed.
What then will become of me,
Bound to pain incessantly,
Whilst so many Loves, conspire
Or by heart by turns to tire!

XXXIV.

[Though my aged head be gray]

Though my aged head be gray
And thy youth more fresh then May,
Fly me not; oh rather see
In this wreath how gracefullie
Roses with pale Lillies joyne,
Learn of them, so let us twine.

Europa.

XXXV.

This the figure is of Jove,
To a Bull transform'd by Love,
On whose back the Tyrian Maid
Through the Surges was convaid:
See how swiftly he the wide
Sea doth with strong hoofs divide;
He (and he alone) could swim,
None o'th' Heard ere follow'd him.

XXXVI.

[Vex no more thy self and me]

Vex no more thy self and me
With demure Philosophy;
Hollow precepts, onely fit
To amuse the busie wit;
Teach me brisk Lyeus rites;
Teach me Venus blithe delights;
Jove loves Water, give me Wine;
That my soul ere I resigne
May this cure of sorrow have;
There's no drinking in the Grave.

The Spring.

XXXVII.

See the Spring her self discloses,
And the Graces gather Roses:
See how the becalmed Seas
Now their swelling waves appease;
How the Duck swims, how the Crane
Comes from's Winter Home again;
See how Titans cheerful ray
Chaceth the dark Clouds away;
Now in their new robes of green
Are the Plowmans labours seen:
Now the lusty teeming Earth
Springs each hour with a new birth;
Now the Olive blooms: the Vine
Now doth with plump pendants shine;
And with leaves and blossoms now
Freshly bourgeons every Bough.

XXXVIII.

[Old I am, yet can (I think)]

Old I am, yet can (I think)
Those that younger are out-drink;
When I dance no staff I take
But a well fill'd Bottle shake:
He that doth in war delight
Come and with these arms let's fight;
Fill the Cup, let loose a flood
Of the rich Grapes luscious blood;
Old I am, and therefore may
Like Silenus drink and play.

XXXIX.

[When I ply the cheering Bowl]

When I ply the cheering Bowl
Brisk Lyæus through my soul
Strait such lively joy diffuses
That I sing, and bless the Muses;
Full of Wine I cast behinde
All my sorrows to the winde;
Full of Wine my head I crown
Roving loosely up and down;
Full of Wine I praise the life
Calmly ignorant of strife;
Full of Wine I court some Fair,
And Cythera's worth declare;
Full of Wine my close thoughts I
To my Jovial Friends unty:
Wine makes Age with new years sprout:
Wine deni'd, my life goes out.

The Bee.

XL.

Love, a Bee that lurkt among
Roses saw not, and was stung:
Who for his hurt finger crying,
Running sometimes, sometimes flying,
Doth to his fair Mother hie,
And oh help cries he, I dy;
A wing'd Snake hath bitten me,
Call'd by Countreymen a Bee:
At which Venus, if such smart
A Bees little sting impart,
How much greater is the pain
They whom thou hast hurt sustain.

XLI.

[VVhilst our Joyes with wine we raise]

VVhilst our Joyes with wine we raise
Youthful Bacchus we will praise:
Bacchus dancing did invent;
Bacchus is on songs intent;
Bacchus teacheth Love to court,
And his Mother how to sport;
Graceful confidence He lends;
He oppressive trouble ends;
To the Bowle when we repair
Grief doth vanish into air;
Drink we then, and drown all sorrow;
All our care not knows the morrow;
Life is dark, let's dance and play,
They that will be troubled may;
We our joyes with wine will raise,
Youthful Bacchus we will praise.

XLII.

[I divine Lyeus prize]

I divine Lyeus prize,
Who with mirth and wit supplies:
Compast with a Jovial Quire,
I affect to touch the Lyre:
But of all my greatest Joy
Is with sprightly Maids to toy:
My free heart no Envy bears,
Nor anothers envy fears;
Proof against invective wrongs,
Brittle shafts of pois'nous tongues.
Wine with quarrels sowr'd I hate,
Or feasts season'd with debate:
But I love a harmless Measure;
Life; to Quiet hath no pleasure.

The Grassehopper.

XLIII.

Grasshopper thrice-happy! who
Sipping the cool morning dew,
Queen-like chirpest all the day
Seated on some verdant spray;
Thine is all what ere earth brings,
Or the howrs with laden wings;
Thee, the Ploughman calls his Joy,
'Cause thou nothing dost destroy:
Thou by all art honour'd; All
Thee the Springs sweet Prophet call;
By the Muses thou admir'd,
By Apollo art inspir'd,
Agelesse, ever singing, good,
Without passion flesh or blood,
Oh how near thy happy state
Comes the Gods to imitate!

The Dream.

XLIII.

As I late in slumber lay
Wing'd me thought I ran away,
But Love (his feet clogg'd with Lead)
As thus up and down I fled
Following caught me instantly:
What may this strange dream imply?
What but this? that in my heart
Though a thousand Loves had part,
I shall now (their snares declin'd)
To this onely be confin'd.

Loves Arrows.

XLIV.

In the Lemnian Forge of late
Vulcan making Arrows sate;
Whilst with Honey their barb'd points
Venus, Love with Gall anoints:
Armed Mars by chance comes there,
Brandishing a sturdy Spear,
And in scorn the little shaft
Offring to take up, he laught:
This (saith Love) which thou dost slight
Is not (if thou try it) light;
Up Mars takes it, Venus smil'd;
But He (sighing) to the Child
Take it, cries, its weight I feel;
Nay (sayes Love) e'en keep it still.

Gold.

XLVI.

Not to love a pain is deem'd,
And to love's the same esteem'd:
But of all the greatest pain
Is to love unlov'd again;
Birth in love is now rejected,
Parts and Arts are disrespected,
Onely Gold is look'd upon;
A curse take him that was won
First to doat upon it; hence
Springs 'twixt Brothers difference;
This makes Parents slighted; this
Wars dire cause and fuel is:
And what's worst, by this alone
Are we Lovers overthrown.

XLVII.

[Young Men dancing, and the old]

Young Men dancing, and the old
Sporting I with joy behold;
But an old Man gay and free
Dancing most I love to see:
Age and youth alike he shares,
For his Heart belies his Haires.

XLVIII.

[Bring me hither Homers Lute]

Bring me hither Homers Lute,
Taught with mirth (not wars) to suit;
Reach a full Cup, that I may
All the laws of Wine obey,
Drink, and dance, and to the Lyre
Sing what Bacchus shall inspire.

XLIX.

[Best of Painters come, pursue]

Best of Painters come, pursue
What our Muse invites thee to,
And Lyeus, whose shrill Flute
Vies with her harmonious Lute;
Draw me a full City, where
Several shapes of mirth appear;
And the Laws of Love, if cold
Wax so great a flame can hold.

L.

[VVho his cups can stoutly bear]

VVho his cups can stoutly bear,
In his cups despiseth fear,
In his cups can nimbly dance,
Him Lyeus will advance:
Nectar of us mortals Wine,
The glad off-spring of the Vine,
Skreen'd with leaves, preserv'd within
The plump Grapes transparent skin,
In the Body all diseases,
In the Soul all grief appeases.

On a Basin wherein Venus was engrav'd.

LI.

VVhat bold hand the Sea engraves,
Whilst its undetermin'd waves
In a Dishes narrow Round
Arts more powerful rage doth bound?
See, by some Promethean Mind
Cytherea there design'd,
Mother of the Deities,
Expos'd naked to our eyes
In all parts, save those alone
Modesty will not have shown,
Which for covering onely have
The thin Mantle of a wave:
On the surface of the Main,
Which a smiling calm layes plain,
She, like frothy Sedges, swims
And displayes her snowy Limbs:
Whilst the foaming billow swells
As her breast its force repells,
And her form striving to hide
Her doth by her Neck divide,
Like a Lilly round beset
By the Purple Violet;
Loves, who Dolphins do bestride
Ore the silver surges ride,
And with many a wanton smile
Lovers of their hearts beguile;
Whilst the People of the Floud
To her side, like Wantons, scud.

The Vintage.

LII.

Men and Maids at time of year
The Ripe clusters joyntly bear
To the Press, but in when thrown
They by Men are trod alone,
Who in Bacchus praises join,
Squeeze the Grape, let out the Wine:
Oh with what delight they spy
The new must when tun'd work high!
Which if old Men freely take
Their gray heads and heels they shake;
And a young Man, if he finde
Some fair Maid to sleep resign'd
In the shade, He strait goes to her,
Wakes, and roundly 'gins to woe her;
Whilst Love slily stealing in
Tempts her to the pleasing sin:
Yet she long resists his offers,
Nor will hear what ere he proffers,
Till perceiving that his prayer
Melts into regardless air,
Her, who seemingly refrains,
He by pleasing force constrains;
Wine doth boldness thus dispence,
Teaching young Men Insolence.

The Rose.

LIII.

LIV.

[When I see the young Men play]

When I see the young Men play,
Young me thinks I am as they;
And my aged thoughts lay'd by,
To the Dance, with Joy I fly:
Come, a flowry Chaplet lend me,
Youth, and mirthful thoughts attend me;
Age be gone, wee'l dance among
Those that young are and be young:
Bring some Wine Boy, fill about;
You shall see the old Man's stout;
Who can laugh and tipple too,
And be mad as well as you.

LV.

[Horses plainly are descry'd]

Horses plainly are descry'd
By the Mark upon their side:
Parthians are distinguished
By the Miters on their Head:
But from all Men else a Lover
I can easily discover,
For upon his easie Breast
Love his Brand-Mark hath imprest.