Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/134

88 As if it were that life could

Produce so little trouble,

That we with toils and strife would

Make each one of them double.

I stand by smiling Bacchus,

In joys us wont to wrap he;

The wise, Dorila, lack us

The knowledge to be happy.

What matters it, if even

In fair as diamond splendour,

The sun is fix'd in heaven?

Me light he's born to render.

The moon is, so me tell they,

With living beings swarmy;

"There may be thousands," well they

Can never come to harm me!

From Danube to the Ganges,

History tells how did he

The Macedonian launch his

Proud banner fierce and giddy!

What's that to us, to entice us,

If only half this valley,

To feed our lambs suffice us,

With all our wants to tally?