Anacreon (570 BC – 488 BC)

Mingle, my boy, a little draught for me
In such wise, now, as I shall tell to thee.
First, mark my words, into this goblet run
A little of that old Anacreon.
Now take that slender flagon over there-
'Tis Sapho's own, no better anywhere-
And pour into the glass to give it strength
Just about half your little finger's length.
'There now, my master, surely it will do:'
Nay, boy, not yet; a little Pindar too.
There, there. 'tis full, the glass o'erflows the crown;
Just hand it me and I will drink it down.
Methinks Apollo, should he chance to come
Upon me now, would say, 'Just mix me some
Of that same brew I see you tippling there'.
Or if the Paphian maid should this way fare
With Eros, her companion, wandering free,
They both would cry, 'Ho, Servus, make it three.'