Anacreon Poems : The Vain Advice
Prythee trouble me no more;
I will drink, be mad, and roar:
Alcmæon and Orestes grew
Mad, when they their mothers slew:
But I no man having kill'd
Am with hurtless fury fill'd.
Hercules with madness struck,
Bent his bow, his quiver shook;
Ajax mad, did fiercely wield
Hector's sword, and grasp'd his shield:
I nor spear nor target have,
But this cup (my weapon) wave:
Crown'd with roses, thus for more
Wine I call, drink, dance, and roar.
I will drink, be mad, and roar:
Alcmæon and Orestes grew
Mad, when they their mothers slew:
But I no man having kill'd
Am with hurtless fury fill'd.
Hercules with madness struck,
Bent his bow, his quiver shook;
Ajax mad, did fiercely wield
Hector's sword, and grasp'd his shield:
I nor spear nor target have,
But this cup (my weapon) wave:
Crown'd with roses, thus for more
Wine I call, drink, dance, and roar.
Submited by
Domingo, Abril 17, 2011 - 19:56
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other contents of Anacreon
Tema | Título | Respuestas | Lecturas | Último envío | Idioma | |
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Poesia Consagrada/General | Anacreon Poems : The Accompt | 0 | 584 | 04/17/2011 - 18:29 | Inglés |
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