Classic Poem

Upon this round pedestal behold Anacreon placed,
With wine elate and merry as he is wont to be;
Bold bacchanal, his brows are with glowing garlands graced,
And with voluptuous languors his eyes swim dreamily.
In flowing folds about him his robe is loosely drawn,
Just like a careless reveller one buskin he hath lost—
While fitted to his shrivelled foot the other he hath on.
He in his hand upraises his harp—how he was crossed
In love, and how his amours were oft crowned with success
He sings and of Megisteus and Bathyllus lovely-fair:
In praise of wine and pleasure well can he thoughts express,
And in delightful measures his ardent soul declare.
Protect him, Father Bacchus, it is not meet at all
That thy so famous votary from lack of care should fall.