Come ho! sweet page, pray fetch for me
A flagon of my favourite wine,
And let it mixed with water be.
(I will be moderate, I opine)
For I am fain once more to prove
The nectarous joys of wine and love.

The god of love I sing
Who garlands bears of many-coloured flowers;
Hearts ever conquering,
Mightiest of masters, subtle power of powers,
Thou rul'st the gods and all
Mortals thy wiles enthrall.

When Love beholds my beard that flows
White as the ocean's snowy spray,
He flies me swift as the eagle's flight
On rustling wings of golden light,
And seems to murmur as he goes,
“Old fellow, you have had your day.”

O Eros, conqueror of hearts, with whom
Disport the blue-eyed nymphs and Cypris fair:
With eyes uplift to Ida's leafy gloom
I breathe to thee a prayer.

The maid for whom I glow thy power defies.
Her snow-cold bosom melt with thy fond fire;
That she moved by my importunities
May grant my heart's desire.

O bear me hence, Love, toward the sky
Wrapt in a sun-gilt purple cloud,
And stay me with thy pinions bright.
Thou hast fired my soul to seek delight
In Paphian pleasures, but the proud
White Lesbian nymph for whom I sigh
From my white tresses mocking turns,
And for a younger lover burns.

Not to love indeed is pain,
Painful 'tis to be love's thrall,
But to love and love in vain
Is the greatest pain of all.
Vain is learning, genius, wit,
Since men bow alone to gold;
Birth and breeding, lineage old —
All are trampled on by it.

Cursed be he who first to light
Brought this sordid metal, may
He be plunged in endless night,
And his memory fade away.
Gold rends every sacred tie,
Friendship breaks and kindred parts;
Envy breeds, and hardens hearts,
Kindles strife and enmity.

I love the wind, I love the sea,—for I can weep like the first and my world is like the second .

Once Vulcan at the Lemnian forges making
Arrows for Cupid, skilfully of steel,
The new-made weapons Cytherea taking
Their points in honey dipped, for lover's weal.

But Cupid mingled gall: Once Mars returning
Full armed and flushed from the red field of war,
A massy spear he brandished, and discerning
Love's shafts he said, " What trifling toys these are! "

But Cupid said, " When you've received this arrow
You'll find it heavy, " whereupon he went
And gave it to the war-god; its touch to his marrow

What song of mine will live?
On whose lips will the words be sung
Long years after I am forgotten —
A name blown between the hills
Where some goat-herd
Remembers my love and passion?

He will sing of your beauty and my love;
Though it may be in another tongue,
To a strange tune,
In a country beyond the seas —
A seed blown by the wind —
He will sing of our love and passion.

To some the fat gods
Give money,
To some love;

But the gods have given me
Money and love:

Not too much money,
Nor quite enough love!

To some the fat gods
Give money, To some love.