1.
To Anacreon, in heaven, 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 ye to boot:
And, besides, I’ll instruct ye, like me, to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.’
2.
The news through Olympus immediately flew;
When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs –
‘If these mortals are suffered their scheme to pursue,
The devil a goddess will stay above stairs.
Hark! already they cry,
In transports of joy,
A fig for Parnassus! to Rowley’s we’ll fly;
And there, my good fellows, we’ll learn to entwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.
3.
‘The yellow-haired god, and his nine fusty maids,
To the hill of old Lud will incontinent flee,
Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades,
And the biforkèd hill a mere desert will be.
My thunder, no fear on’t,
Will soon do its errand,
And, dam’me! I’ll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant.
I’ll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.’
4.
Apollo rose up; and said, ‘Prithee ne’er quarrel,
Good king of the gods, with my votaries below:
Your thunder is useless’ – then, shewing his laurel,
Cried, ‘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 clubroom, they jovially twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus’s vine.’
5.
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.’
Cried 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.’
6.
Ye sons of Anacreon, then, join hand in hand;
Preserve unanimity, friendship and love!
’Tis your’s to support what’s so happily planned;
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.