This tomb be thine, Anacreon
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The composer of this social glee is not recorded in the manuscript source.
Lyrics: Antipater (trans. Unknown)

This tomb be thine, Anacreon, all around
Let ivy wreathe, let flowrets deck the ground;
And from its earth, enriched with such a prize,
Let wells of milk and streams of wine arise.
So shall thine ashes yet a pleasure know,
If any pleasure reach the shades below.