The Poetry Corner

Odes Of Anacreon - Ode LXIV.

By Thomas Moore

[1] Haste thee, nymph, whose well-aimed spear Wounds the fleeting mountain-deer! Dian, Jove's immortal child, Huntress of the savage wild! Goddess with the sun-bright hair! Listen to a people's prayer. Turn, to Lethe's river turn, There thy vanquished people mourn![2] Come to Lethe's wavy shore, Tell them they shall mourn no more. Thine their hearts, their altars thine; Must they, Dian--must they pine?