 | Weeping-Cross and Other Rimes by A. H. Bullen |  |
32
RUNAWAY GOLD
[_]
[Anacreontea, LVIII. The original is more than usually corrupt; I have rendered part of it, but towards the end the text becomes hopeless.]
Like the wind and no less fleet,
Flies me, as he flies alway,
Gold, that arrant Runaway,
I pursue not; who is fain
To hunt home a hateful bane?
Free from Runaway Gold, my breast
Is of sorrow dispossest:
I, to all the winds that blow,
All my cares abroad may throw:
I may take my lyre and raise
Jocund songs in Cupid's praise.
When my wary sprite disdains
To be trapp'd by Runaway's trains,
Suddenly he hies unto me
And with trouble would undo me;
Hoping that himself I'll take
And my darling lyre forsake.
Faithless Gold, thy labour's naught;
By thy snares I'll not be caught:
More delight than Gold doth bring
I can gain from my lute string.
Thou men's hearts didst sow with guile
And with envy them defile;
But the lyre......[OMITTED]
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