 | Poetical Trifles |  |
47
THE BLISS OF WINE.
Οταν πινω τον οινον,
Ευδοσιν αι μεριμναι.
Anacreon.
Ευδοσιν αι μεριμναι.
Anacreon.
Oh! when the purple wine I sip,
Then toiling cares repose;
No briny tear bedews my lip,
Still hush'd are all my woes.
Then toiling cares repose;
No briny tear bedews my lip,
Still hush'd are all my woes.
Since death must come by heav'n's decree
Nor courts the will of man:
I will not make life dull to me,
But taste what joys I can.
Nor courts the will of man:
I will not make life dull to me,
But taste what joys I can.
From sparkling bowl, then let me drink,
And freely sip its sweets;
Oblivion will each trouble sink,
While life with pleasure beats.
And freely sip its sweets;
Oblivion will each trouble sink,
While life with pleasure beats.
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