From Anacreon: Ode XI

What recks it me of Gyges' lot?
His wealth and power I envy not.

My beard with scented oils shall shine,
The rose shall deck this brow of mine;
So smooth shall glide my life away,
The gods have given me to-day;
To whom the morrow?-who shall say?
Then, Cupid, view a slave in me,
And, Bacchus, let me worship thee,
Till Death's last pangs Anacreon prove,
Then farewell wine, and farewell love.