Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/287

  Oh, lovely rose! to thee I sing, Thou sweetest, fairest child of spring! Oh thou art dear to all the gods, The darling of their bless'd abodes. Thy breathing buds and blossoms fair Entwine young Cupid's golden hair, When gayly dancing, hand in hand, He joins the Graces' lovely band. Then bring fresh garlands, crown my brows, And while thus joyous, I carouse, Admitted, Bacchus, to thy shrine, Thy praise I'll sing in hymns divine; Or, thick with rosy chaplets crown'd, With Chloe dance a sprightly round, Whose snowy bosom softly swells, And tales of tender transport tells.

glowing wreaths of roses crown'd, We'll pass the cheerful goblet round; But with no squeamish, modest sips, The cup shall kiss our thirsty lips. And see, to grace the festive hour, The maiden seeks our shelter'd bower, Whose pretty, slender foot well suits The music of the soft-toned lutes; While ivy wreath'd, her thyrsus fair She rustles through the yielding air. And hark! a fair-hair'd youth begins, And as he wakes the warbling strings