The Anacreontic Song

To Anacreon, in Heav’n, where he sat in full glee
A few sons of harmony sent a petition
That he their inspirer and patron would be;
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian —
Voice, fiddle and flute, no longer be mute
I’ll lend ye my name, and inspire you to boot
And, besides, I’ll instruct you, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
And, besides, I’ll instruct you, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine

The news through Olympus immediately flew;
When Old Thunder pretended to give himself airs —
If these mortals are suffer’d their scheme to pursue
The devil a goddess will stay above stairs
Hark! already they cry in transports of joy
Away to the Sons of Anacreon we’ll fly…
And there with good fellows, we’ll learn to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
And there with good fellows, we’ll learn to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine

The yellow-hair’d god, and his nine fusty maids
From Helicon’s banks will incontinent flee
Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades
And the biforked hill a mere desert will be
My Thunder, no fear on’t shall soon do its errand
And dam’me! I’ll swing the ringleaders, I warrant
I’ll trim the young dogs for thus daring to twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
I’ll trim the young dogs for thus daring to twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine

Apollo rose up; and said, Pr’ythee ne’er quarrel
Good King of the gods, with my vot’ries below!
Your thunder is useless — then, shewing his laurel
Cry’d, Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!
Then over each head my laurels I’ll spread;
So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall dread
Whilst snug in their club-room, they jovially twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
Whilst snug in their club-room, they jovially twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine

Next Momus got up, with his risible phiz;
And swore with Apollo he’d cheerfully join —
The full tide of harmony still shall be his
But the song, and the catch, and the laugh shall be mine;
Then, Jove, be not jealous of these honest fellows
Cry’d Jove, We relent, since the truth you now tell us;
And swear by Old Styx that they long shall entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
And swear by Old Styx that they long shall entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine

Ye sons of Anacreon, then, join hand in hand;
Preserve unanimity, friends and love
‘Tis your’s to support what’s so happily plan’d;
You’ve the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove
While thus we agree, our toast let it be
May our club flourish happy, united, and free!
And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine
And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine