by: Anacreon (c.572-488
POEMS BY ANACREON
- APPY insect!
what can be
- In happiness compar'd to thee?
- Fed with nourishment divine,
- The dewy morning's gentle wine!
- Nature waits upon thee still,
- And thy verdant cup does fill;
- 'Tis filled wherever thou dost tread,
- Nature self's thy Ganymede.
- Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing;
- Happier than the happiest king!
- All the fields which thou dost see,
- All the plants belong to thee;
- All that summer hours produce;
- Fertile made with early juice.
- Man for thee does sow and plow;
- Farmer he, and landlord thou!
- Thou dost innocently joy;
- Nor does thy luxury destroy;
- The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
- More harmonious than he.
- Thee country-hinds with gladness hear,
- Prophet of the ripen'd year!
- Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire;
- Phoebus is himself thy sire.
- To thee, of all things upon earth,
- Life's no longer than thy mirth.
- Happy insect, happy, thou
- Dost neither age nor winter know;
- But, when thou'st drunk, and danc'd and sung
- Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
- (Voluptuous and wise withal,
- Epicurean animal!)--
- Sated with thy summer feast,
- Thou retir'st to endless rest.
- TRANSLATED BY ABRAHAM COWLEY