ANACREONTIC
,
1738.
By
the
Same
.
'TWAS
in
a
cool
Aonian
glade
,
The
wanton
Cupid
,
spent
with
toil
,
Had
sought
refreshment
from
the
shade
;
And
stretch'd
him
on
the
mossy
soil
.
A
vagrant
Muse
drew
nigh
,
and
found
The
subtle
traitor
fast
asleep
;
And
is
it
thine
to
snore
profound
,
She
said
,
yet
leave
the
world
to
weep
?
But
hush
—
from
this
auspicious
hour
,
The
world
,
I
ween
,
may
rest
in
peace
;
And
robb'd
of
darts
,
and
stript
of
pow'r
,
Thy
peevish
petulance
decrease
.
Sleep
on
,
poor
child
!
whilst
I
withdraw
,
And
this
thy
vile
artillery
hide
—
When
the
Castalian
fount
she
saw
,
And
plung'd
his
arrows
in
the
tide
.
That
magic
fount
—
ill-judging
maid
!
Shall
cause
you
soon
to
curse
the
day
You
dar'd
the
shafts
of
Love
invade
;
And
gave
his
arms
redoubled
sway
.
For
,
in
a
stream
so
wonderous
clear
,
When
angry
Cupid
searches
round
,
Will
not
the
radiant
points
appear
?
Will
not
the
furtive
spoils
be
found
?
Too
soon
they
were
;
and
every
dart
,
Dipt
in
the
Muse's
mystic
spring
,
Acquir'd
new
force
to
wound
the
heart
;
And
taught
at
once
to
love
and
sing
.
Then
farewell
ye
Pierian
quire
;
For
who
will
now
your
altars
throng
?
From
Love
we
learn
to
swell
the
lyre
;
And
Echo
asks
no
sweeter
song
.