Or stifles with a kiss the dulcet notes:

Now on the poet’s breast reposes,

Now twines his hoary locks with roses,

Or borne on wings of gold in wanton circle floats.

Then thus Anacreon⁠—“I no more

At other shrine my vows will pour,

Since Cupid deigns my numbers to inspire:

From Phoebus or the blue-eyed maid