EPIGRAMS OF THE ANTHOLOGIA. [AMONG the Epigrams of the Anthologia, there are some panegyrics on Anacreon, which I had translated, and originally intended as a kind of Coronis to the work; but I found, upon consideration, that they wanted variety; a frequent recurrence of the same thought, within the limits of an epitaph, to which they are confined, would render a collection of them rather uninteresting. I shall take the liberty, however, of subjoining a few, that I may not appear to have totally neglected those elegant tributes to the reputation of Anacreon. The four epigrams which I give are inputed to Antipater Sidonius. They are rendered, perhaps, with too much freedom; but, designing a translation of all that are on the subject, I imagined it was necessary to enliven their uniformity by sometimes indulging in the liberties of paraphrase.] Αντιπάτρου Σιδωνιον, εις Ανακρέοντα. Θαλλοι τετρακορυμβος, Ανακρέον, αμφι σε κισσος οφρα με τοι σποδια τε και οστεα τερψιν αρηται, AROUND the tomb, oh bard divine! And every fount be milky showers. Thus, after death, if spirits feel, Thou may'st, from odours round thee streaming, A pulse of past enjoyment steal, And live again in blissful dreaming! Του αυτού, εις τον αυτόν. Τύμβος Ανακρείοντος ὁ Τηϊος ενθαδε κυκνος HERE sleeps Anacreon, in this ivied shade.; Του αυτού, εις τον αυτόν. Ξεινε, τάφον παρα λιτον Ανακρείοντος αμείβων, Ως ὁ Διονύσου μεμελημένος ουασι κώμος, On stranger ! if Anacreon's shell I cannot ev'n in death resign Του αυτού, εις τον αυτον. Ενδεις εν φθιμενοισιν, Ανακρεον, εσθλα πονήσας Ar length thy golden hours have wing'd their flight, Thy harp, that whisper'd through each lingering night, She too, for whom that harp profusely shed She, the young spring of thy desires, has fled, Farewell! thou hadst a pulse for every dart Which thou, with all thy soul, could'st give her! THE TWOPENNY POST-BAG, OR INTERCEPTED LETTERS. PREFACE. THE Bag, from which the following Letters are selected, was dropped by a Twopenny Postman about two months since, and picked up by an emissary of the Society for the S-pp-ss-n of V-e, who, supposing it might materially assist the private researches of that Institution, immediately took it to his employers, and was rewarded handsomely for his trouble. Such a treasury of secrets was worth a whole host of informers; and, accordingly, like the Cupids of the poet (if I may use so profane a simile) who "fell at odds about the sweet-bag of a bee," those venerable Suppressors almost fought with each other for the honour and delight of first ransacking the Post-Bag. Unluckily, however, it turned out upon examination, that the discoveries of profligacy which it enabled them to make, lay chiefly in those upper regions of society, which their well-bred regulations forbid them to molest or meddle with. In consequence, they gained but very few victims by their prize, and, after lying for a week or two under Mr H-tch-d's counter, the Bag, with its violated contents, was sold for a trifle to a friend of mine. It happened that I had been just then seized with an ambition (having never tried the strength of my wing but in a Newspaper) to publish something or other in the shape of a Book; and it occurred to me that, the present being such a letter-writing era, a few of these Twopenny Post Epistles, turned into easy verse, would be as light and popular a task as I could possibly select for a commencement. I did not think it prudent, however, to give too many Letters at first, and, accordingly, have been obliged (in order to eke out a sufficient number of pages) to reprint some o those TRIFLES, which had already appeared in the public journals. As in the battles of ancient times, the shades of the departed were sometimes seen among the combatants, so I thought * Herrick. I might remedy the thinness of my ranks, by conjuring up a few dead and forgotten ephemerons to fill them. Such are the motives and accidents that led to the present publication; and as this is the first time my Muse has ever ventured out of the go-cart of a Newspaper, though I feel all a parent's delight at seeing little Miss go alone, I am also not without a parent's anxiety, lest an unlucky fall should be the consequence of the experiment; and I need not point out the many living instances there are, of Muses that have suffered severely in their heads, from taking too early and rashly to their feet. Besides, a Book is so very different a thing from a Newspaper!-in the former, your doggerel, without either company or shelter, must stand shivering in the middle of a bleak white page by itself; whereas, in the latter, it is comfortably backed by advertisements, and has sometimes even a speech of Mr St-ph-n's, or something equally warm, for a chauffe-pie; so that, in general, the very reverse of " laudatur et alget" is its destiny. Ambition, however, must run some risks, and I shall be very well satisfied if the reception of these few Letters should have the effect of sending me to the Post-Bag for more. LETTER I. FROM THE PR-NC-SS CHE OF W B-RB-A A-SHL-Y.* -S TO THE LADY My dear Lady Bab, you'll be shock'd, I'm afraid, No nags ever made such a stir in the state! Lord Eld-n first heard-and as instantly pray'd he To God and his King-that a Popish young lady (For though you've bright eyes and twelve thousand a year, It is still but too true you're a Papist, my dear) Had insidiously sent, by a tall Irish groom, Two priest-ridden ponies, just landed from Rome, And so full, little rogues, of pontifical tricks, That the dome of St Paul's was scarce safe from their kicks Off at once to papa, in a flurry, he flies For papa always does what these statesmen advise, On condition that they'll be, in turn, so polite As, in no case whate'er, to advise him too right 66 Pretty doings are here, Sir (he angrily cries, While by dint of dark eyebrows he strives to look wise), ""Tis a scheme of the Romanists, This young lady, who is a Roman Catholic, has lately made a present of some beautiful ponies to the Pr-nc-ss. |