I envy not the wealth and pride
Of Gyges and his crime-bought bride.

I frown on treasured heaps of gold,
And princes' pomp I lightly hold.

To scent my beard with perfumed showers,
To wreathe my temples with fair flowers—

Such are my care and my delight;
I merrily revel day and night.

My lyre of present pleasure sings;
We know not what to-morrow brings.

Then while fair halcyon hours are thine
Dice, and quaff mirth-enkindling wine,

Ere death with icy tones shall say;
“Drink thou no longer—come away!”