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The Rhyme Makers
Anacreon          picture of Thomas Moore
        Anacreon              Thomas Moore

Theme:  Partying

[2nd stanza]: Alcmaeon and Orestes are two characters from classical mythology who, in separate tales, killed their mothers.  They were each tormented by the Furies, female divinities who tormented folks for their crimes, usually at the behest of the victim.

[3rd  stanza]: Alcides is more popularly known as Hercules.  Anacreon refers to a tale where Alcides slays a young boy to procure his weapon.  Ajax: A hero of the Trojan Wars, killed himself out of jealousy when Odysseus was awarded the armor of Achilles.

Thomas Moore, the translator of this piece, also has his own wine poems here at
- S. H. Bass  

More Anacreon at

from Odes of Anacreon by Thomas Moore
 A broken cake, with honey sweet  
 Away, away ye men of rules
 Fill me, boy, as deep a draft  
 Give me the harp of epic song    
 He, who instructs the youthful crew
 I care not for the idle state  
 If hoarded gold possest the power    
 Let us drain the nectared bowl
 Mix me, child, a cup divine    
 Now the star of day is high  
 Observe when mother earth is dry  
 Ripened by the solar beam    
 Sculptor, wouldst thou glad my soul    
 Strew me a fragrant bed of leaves 
 Tis true, my fading years decline    
 Vulcan! hear your glorious task  
 When Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy    
 When I behold the festive train    
 When my thirsty soul I steep  
 When Spring adorns the dewy scene    
 Within this goblet, rich and deep    
 Yes, be the glorious revel mine  

from A Translation Of Anacreon by Lord Byron         Mingle with the genial bowl    

Anacreontics (imitations of Anacreon)
 Drinking by Abraham Cowley
 The Epicure by Abraham Cowley
 Friend of my soul this goblet sip by Thomas Moore
 I filled to thee To thee I drank by Thomas Moore
 Press the grape and let it pour by Thomas Moore

Tributes to Anacreon:
 Elegy Upon Anacreon by Abraham Cowley
 The Lyre Of Anacreon by Oliver Wendall Holmes
I pray thee, by the gods above
Ode 9 from The Odes of Anacreon (1800)
translated by Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet 

I pray thee, by the gods above,
Give me the mighty bowl I love,
And let me sing, in wild delight,
"I will – I will be mad to-night!"

Alcmaeon once, as legends tell,
Was frenzied by the fiends of hell;
Orestes, too, with naked tread,
Frantic paced the mountain-head;
And why? a murdered mother's shade
Haunted them still where'er they strayed.
But ne'er could I a murderer be,
The grape alone shall bleed for me;
Yet can I shout, with wild delight,
"I will – I will be mad to-night."

Alcides' self, in days of yore,
Imbrued his hands in youthful gore,
And brandished, with a maniac joy,
The quiver of the expiring boy:
And Ajax, with tremendous shield,
Infuriate scoured the guiltless field.
But I, whose hands no weapon ask,
No armor but this joyous flask;
The trophy of whose frantic hours
Is but a scattered wreath of flowers,
Ev'n I can sing, with wild delight,
"I will – I will be mad to-night!"

from The Complete Works Of Sir Thomas Moore


Bust of Bacchus
Michelangelo Maestri



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