University of Virginia Library


49

ODE IV. Upon Revel.

On softest beds at leisure laid,
Beds of Lote, and Myrtle made!
While the easy hours I spend,
Love! my festal shall attend,
Love! his robe behind him bound,
Love! shall serve my goblet round!
Swift, in this terrestrial strife,
Turns the rapid wheel of life.
Swift, as speeding from the bar,
Turns her wheel the rapid car.
Soon, my friends, to cruel death,
I, alas! must yield my breath.
Soon dissolve (too soon I must)
Turn'd to undistinguish'd dust.
Do not then, when I am dead,
Flow'rs, or wines, or odours shed,
Fruitless love! superfluous care!
Spare me then what I can spare.
Rather, in these present hours,
Bring your odours, wines, and flow'rs.

50

Now, o Cupid, bind my hair!
Summon, now, the tender fair;
That before I'm doom'd to go
To the shades, that sport below,
I may taste with those that live,
All the sports, that life can give.