An ODE, From the Greek of ANACREON.

I.

IF Gold could lengthen Life, I swear,
It then should be my chiefest Care,
To get a heap, that I may say,
When Death came to demand his pay,
Thou Slave, take this and go thy way.

II.

But since Life is not to be bought,
Why should I plague my self for nought,
Or foolishly disturb the Skies,
With vain Complaints, or fruitless Cries,
For if the fatal Destinies
Have all decreed it shall be so,
What good will Gold or Crying do?

III.

Give me to ease my thirsty Soul,
The Joys and Comforts of the Bowl;
Freedom and Health, and whilst I live
Let me not want what Love can give:
Then shall I die in peace, and have
This Consolation in the Grave,
That once I had the World my slave.