ANACREON ODE XXVI

ANACREON  ODE  XXVI

Thy harp may sing of Troy’s alarms,

Or tell the tale of Theban arms;

With other wars my song shall burn,

For other wounds my harp shall mourn.

‘ Twas not the crested warrior’s dart,

Which drank the current of my heart;

Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed,

Have made this vanquished bosom bleed;

No - from an eye of liquid blue,

A host of quiver’d Cupids flew;

And now my heart all bleeding lies

Beneath this army of the eyes !

                                 Anacreon  507 - 488 BC