TRIUMPH OF BACCHUS AND ARIADNE
FROM LORENZO DI MEDICI.
"Quant' è bella giovinezza."
AH, how beautiful is youth,
Youth that fleets so fast away !
He who would be gay, forsooth.
Let him hasten to be gay !
This is Bacchus we are seeing,
Ariadne — how they glow !
Always happy and agreeing.
Since 'tis plain that nothing matters
While they love each other so ;
And these others, nymphs and satyrs,
Dance beside them all the way :
He who would be gay, forsooth,
Let him hasten to be gay.
See ! these little fauns, a-bubble
With pure mischief, muse and plot
How to get the nymphs in trouble.
And a thousand traps have baited
Mid the bushes, in the grot ;
Now by Bacchus* heat elated
They are skipping all the way :
He who would be gay, forsooth,
Let him hasten to be gay.
And the tricksome nymphs discover
It is nice to be pursued,
Caught and worried by a lover ;
Who should frown at Love's ensnaring
Were a thankless creature rude ;
So they mingle, pleasure sharing,
Making gambol all the way :
He who would be gay, forsooth.
Let him hasten to be gay.
On an ass Silenus hoary
Rides, with all his flesh and years,
Drunken, steeped in Bacchic glory.
At his figure's backward swaying
He is foremost in his jeers ;
And at whiles, in snatches singing
With the others, cheers the way :
He who would be gay, forsooth.
Let him hasten to be gay.
This is Midas : as they tell us,
All he touches turns to gold,
But his gift scarce makes us jealous ;
For what good is there in treasure.
Treasure more than man can hold.
If he cannot take his pleasure,
Being thirsty all the way ?
He who would be gay, forsooth,
Let him hasten to be gay.
Now all ears be set a-tingle,
Open, quick to every bliss !
Young and old together mingle,
Young nor old possess the morrow,
'Tis to-day we meet and kiss ;
We must drop our grief, for sorrow
Would pollute this holy way :
He who would be gay, forsooth,
Let him hasten to be gay.
Youth and maiden, swell the chorus !
In our hearts how warm and sweet
Thus to feel the gods are for us.
Loving music, loving dances.
Merry with our moving feet !
Let misfortune as it chances
Strike across us on our way :
He who would be gay, forsooth,
Let him hasten to be gay.
Ah, how beautiful is youth,
Youth that fleets so fast away !
