Pindar and Anacreon/Anacreon/Ode 56
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ODE LVI.—ON HIS OLD AGE.[1]
Alas! my youth, my joys have fled,
The snows of age have bleach'd my head.
Tedious, toothless, trembling age,
Must now alone my thoughts engage!
Adieu, ye joys which once I knew—
To life, to love, to all, adieu!
Henceforth, unhappy! doom'd to know
Tormenting fears of future wo!
Oh! how my soul with horror shrinks[2]
Whene'er my startled fancy thinks
Of Pluto's dark and dreary cave,
The chill, the cheerless, gaping grave!
When death's cold hand has closed these eyes
And stifled life's last struggling sighs,
In darkness and in dust must I,
Alas! for ever—ever lie!
- ↑ It is supposed by many that the five following odes were not written by Anacreon; but, as Barnes admits them into his edition, and they are given in most other translations, it was thought proper to insert them here.
- ↑ Let the reader contrast this exclamation of the despairing heathen philosopher, with the exulting language of "Paul the aged"—when ready to be offered, and the time of his departure at hand.