Classic Poem

I love the dance of Bacchus, and desire
With blooming youths to join the vocal choir
To chords responsive of the dulcet lyre.

But most of all I love to crown my hair
With purple hyacinths, and eke to share
Love's blisses wantoning with virgins fair.

The shafts of envy, malice, jealousy,
Sting not my heart nor break life's harmony;
Let slander-loving tongues be far from me.

Broils over wine I hate; they spoil good cheer,
And cause the revels graceless to appear;
But dancing to the lute's soft tones and clear—

And mixed with maids, Come dearest ones, I say,
Let us to Venus sweet oblations pay
And gaily cull life's roses while we may.