ANACREONTIC

Let the thunder burst,
Pour out and drink the wine!
Thou never saw’st a thunderbolt
Strike the tender vine.

Vesuvius himself
To Bacchus tribute pays,
And spares the vineyard flourishing,
Where his lava sways.

In Italy in vain
I hero sought or sage;
Mine eyes but dusty ruins found,
Mouldering with age.

Of Rome the image scarce
Remains to be portray’d;
A tomb is Herculaneum,
Pompeii is a shade.

But I found Falernum,
His nectar rich remain’d,
And in memory of Horace,
A bottleful I drain’d.