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Anacreon          Thomas Moore 1779-1852
        Anacreon              Thomas Moore
                                         
1779-1852


Theme:   Defending Wine


NOTES:
Compare this translation of Moore's to Abraham Cowley's Anacreontic, Drinking.

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

SPECIAL NOTE:  Anacreon and Anacreontic Poetry


More Anacreon at
vintagewinepoems.com

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  
 I pray thee by the gods above
 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     
 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    
 When wine I quaff, before my eyes
 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
Observe when mother earth is dry
Ode 21 from The Odes of Anacreon (1800)
translated by Thomas Moore (1779-1852), Irish poet

Observe when mother earth is dry,
She drinks the droppings of the sky;
And then the dewy cordial gives
To every thirsty plant that lives.
The vapors, which at evening weep,
Are beverage to the swelling deep;
And when the rosy sun appears,
He drinks the ocean's misty tears.
The moon too quaffs her paly stream
Of luster, from the solar beam.
Then, hence with all your sober thinking!
Since Nature's holy law is drinking;
I'll make the laws of nature mine,
And pledge the universe in wine.


from The Complete Works Of Sir Thomas Moore




The Drinker
Charles Denet




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