ANACREONTIC.
Friend of my soul, this goblet sip,
'Twill chase that pensive tear;
'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip,
But, oh! 'tis more sincere.
Like her delusive beam,
'Twill steal away thy mind:
But, truer than love's dream,
It leaves no sting behind.
Come, twine the wreath, thy brows to shade;
These flowers were culled at noon;—
Like woman's love the rose will fade,
But, ah! not half so soon.
For though the flower's decayed,
Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betrayed,
Its sweet life blooms no more.
THE PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS[1]
TO A LAMP WHICH HAD BEEN GIVEN HIM BY LAIS.
Dulcis conscia lectuli lucerna.
MARTIAL, lib. xiv. epig. 89.
"Oh! love the Lamp" (my Mistress said),
"The faithful Lamp that, many a night,
"Beside thy Lais' lonely bed?
"Has kept its little watch of light.
"Full often has it seen her weep,
"And fix her eye upon its flame.
"Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep,
"Repeating her beloved's name.
"Then love the Lamp—'twill often lead
"Thy step through learning's sacred way;
"And when those studious eyes shall read,
"At midnight, by its lonely ray,
"Of things sublime, of nature's birth,
"Of all that's bright in heaven or earth,
Oh, think that she, by whom 'twas given,
"Adores thee more than earth or heaven!"