Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/298

30 Carve me out a mighty bowl, That my ever-thirsty soul In the generous juice may steep. Make it very—very deep. On the margin do not trace Uncouth shape or horrid face" Grave not there the northern wain Stern Orion, god of rain, Boötes, or the Pleiades; What concern have I with these? Trail thereon the tender vine, There let purple clusters shine; Picture too the god of wine. There let fair-hair'd Cupid be, And Bathyllus, fair as he: Make them beautiful and bold, Burnish'd high like polish'd gold: Let them in one labour join, Treading out the gushing wine.