8
Good-bye, then, to bodily perfections, to strength and speed and beauty; Love, when he sees my grey beard, is, welcome to fly past, as the poet of Teos' has it, with rush of gilded wines; ’tis all one to Hippoclides. - Old age is Wisdom’s 1 Anacreon, youth, the day of her glorious flower: let her draw whom she can by the ears; let her shoot her bolts freely; no fear now lest the supply run short. There is the old man’s comfort, on the strength of which he ventures to drag down his boat, which has long lain high and dry, provision her as best he may, and once more put out to sea.
8
Never did I stand in more need of a generous breeze, to fill my sails and speed me on my way: may the Gods dispose you to contribute thereto; so shall I not be found wanting, and of me, as of Odysseus, it shall be said How stout a thigh lurked ’neath the old man’s rags!
