From Anacreon

In sooth I’d with pleasure rehearse
The Atridae and Cadmus’s fame,
If my lute would accord to my verse
And sound aught but Venus’s name.

’Twas in vain that I changed each string
To alter its amorous tone,
And began of Alcides to sing:
My lute warbled Venus alone.

I therefore my strains must renew
And accord to the lays of my lute;
So, ye Heroes, for ever adieu!
Love alone is the theme that can suit.

II
Anacreon, the ladies say
Your pate is bald, your beard is gray!
Take you a looking-glass — forsooth.
You’ll find that what they say is truth.
But whether it be truth or not,
As little do I care as wot;
But this I know — ’tis best to rime
Thus o’er my jokes while suits the time.