Poem by Thomas Moore

From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 42

Yes, be the glorious revel mine,
Where humour sparkles from the wine.
Around me, let the youthful choir
Respond to my enlivening lyre;
And while the red cup foams along,
Mingle in soul as well as song.
Then, while I sit, with flowerets crown’d,
To regulate the goblet’s round,
Let but the nymph, our banquet’s pride,
Be seated smiling by my side,
And earth has not a gift or power
That I would envy in that hour.
Envy! — oh never let its blight
Touch the gay hearts met here to-night,
Far hence be slander’s sidelong wounds,
Nor harsh dispute, nor discord’s sounds
Disturb a scene, where all should be
Attuned to peace and harmony.
            Come, let us hear the harp’s gay note
Upon the breeze inspiring float,
While round us, kindling into love,
Young maidens through the light dance move.
Thus blest with mirth, and love, and peace,
Sure such a life should never cease!

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 54
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 46
3. From “Irish Melodies”. 113. Alone in Crowds to Wander On
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 17
5. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 15

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