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Some airy nymph, with fluent limbs, Rose! thou art the fondest child Through the dance luxuriant swims, Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph Waving, in her snowy hand,

wilt! The leafy Bacchanalian wand,

Even the gods, who walk the sky, Which, as the tripping wanton flies, Are amorous of thy scented sigh. Shakes its tresses to her sighs ! Cupid too, in Paphian shades, A youth, the while, with loosened hair His hair with rosy fillet braids, Floating on the listless air,

When, with the blushing naked Graces, Sings, to the wild harp's tender tone, The wanton winding dance he traces. A tale of woes, alas ! his own ; Then bring me showers of roses, bring, And then, what vectar in his sigh, And shed them round me while I As o'er his lip the murmurs die !!

sing ; Surely never yet has been

Great Bacchus ! in thy hallowed shade, So divine, so blest a scene !

With some celestial, glowing maid, Has Cupid left the starry sphere, While gales of roses round me rise, To wave his golden tresses here ?? In perfume sweetened by her sighs, Oh yes ! and Venus, queen of wiles, I'll bill and twine in early dance, And Bacchus shedding rosy smiles, Commingling soul with every glance ! Ali, all are here, to hail with me The Genius of Festivity !3

ODE XLV.

ODE XLIV.4

Within this goblet, rich and deep,

I cradle all my woes to sleep. Buds of roses, virgin flowers,

Why should we breathe the sigh of Culled from Cupid's balmy bowers,

fear, In the bowl of Bacchus steep,

Or

pour the unavailing tear? Till with crimson drops they weep! For death will never heed the sigh, I'wine the rose, the garland twine, Nor soften at the tearful eye; Every leaf distilling wine;

And eyes that sparkle, eyes that weep, Drink and smile, and learn to think Must all alike be sealed in sleep • That we were born to smile and drink. Then let us never vainly stray, Rose! thou art the sweetest flower In search of thorns, from pleasure's That ever drank the amber shower;

way :

authors extant upon the subject are, I imagine, Ever since it is drunk with the bliss, little understood, but certainly, if one of their And feels the delirium divine! moods was a progression by quarter-tones, which we are told was the nature of the enbarmonic The introduction of these deities to the festival scale, simplicity was by no means the characle is merely allegorical. Madame Dacier thinks ristic of their melody; for this is a nicoty of pro- that the poet describes a masquerade, where gression of which modern music is not susceptible. these deities were personated by the company in

The invention of the barbiton is, by Athenæus, masks. The translation will conform with either attributed to Anacreon. Neanthes of Cyzicus, idea. as quoted by Gyraldus, asserts the same. Vide 3 Kwuos, the deity or genius of mirth. Philo. Chabot. in Horut, on the words 'Lesboum bar- stratus, in the third of his pictures (as all the biton,' in the first ode.

annotators have observed), gives a very beautiful from the Anthologia, of which the following may and again, in the fifty-fifth ode, we shall find our Longepierre has quoted here an epigram dus -ription of this god.

* This spirited poem is a eulogy on the rose; give some idea: The kiss that she left on my lip

author rich in the praises of that flower. In a

fragment of Sappho, in the romance of Achilles Like a dew.drop shall lingering lie;

Tatius, to which Barnes refers us, the rose is 'Twas nectar she gave me to sip,

very elegantly styled 'the eye of flowers;' and 'Twas nectar I drank in her sigh!

the same poetess, in another fragment, calls the The dew that distilled in that kiss,

favours of the Mise the roses of Pieria. See To my soul was voluptuous wine; the notes on the fifty-fifth ode.

Oh ! let us quaff the rosy wave

As deep as any stripling fair Which Bacchus loves, which Bacchus Whose cheeks the flush of morning gave;

wear; And in the goblet, rich and deep,

And if, amidst the wanton crew,
Cradle our crying woes to sleep! I'm called to wind the dance's clue,

Thou shalt behold this vigorous hand
Not faltering on the bacchant's wand,

But brandishing a rosy flask,?
ODE XLVI.

The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask !3

Let those who pant for Glory's charms SEE, the young, the rosy Spring, Embrace her in the field of arms; Gives to the breeze her spangled wing; While my inglorious, placid soul Wbile virgin Graces, warm with May,

Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl. Fling roses o'er her dewy way!

Then fill it high, my ruddy slave, The murmuring billows of the deep

And bathe me in its honeyed wave! Have languished into silent sleep;

For though my fading years decay, And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave

And though my bloom has passed away, Their plumes in the reflecting wave; Like old Silenus, sire divine, While cranes from hoary winter fly

With blushes borrowed from my wine, To flutter in a kinder sky.

I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away;

And live my follies all again!
And cultured field, and winding stream,
Are sweetly tissued by his beam.
Now the earth prolific swells

ODE XLVIII.
With leafy buds and flowery bells;
Gemming shoots the olive twine,
Clusters ripe festoon the vine;

WHEN my thirsty soul I steep,
All along the branches creeping,

Every sorrow's lulled to sleep.

Talk of monarchs ! I am then
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see

Richest, happiest, first of meu ;

Careless o'er my cup I sing,
Nursing into luxury !

Fancy makes me more than king;
Gives me wealthy Cresus' store,

Can I, can I, wish for more?
ODE XLVII.

On my velvet couch reclining,

Ivy leaves my brow entwining, 'Tis true, my fading years decline, While my soul dilates with glee, Yet I can quaff the brimming wine What are kings and crowns to me?

The fastidious affectation of some commenta- * AJkos was a kind of leathern vessel for wine, tors bas denounced this ode as spurious. Degen very much in use, as should seem by the proverb pronounces the four last lines to be the patch aokos kai Ovlakos, which was applied to those Work of some miserable versificator, and Brunck who were intemperate in eating and drinking. Couderns the whole ode. It appears to me to be This proverb is mentioned in some verses quoted elegantly graphical; full of delicate expressions by Athenæus from the Hesione of Alexis. und luxuriant imagery. Barnes conjectures, in 3 Phornutus assigns as a reason for the conseLois Life of our poet, that this ode was written cration of the thyrsus to Bacchus, that inebriety after he had returned from Athens, to settle in often renders the support of a stick very neceshis paternal seat at Teos : there, in a little villa sary. *t some distance from the city, which commanded ** The ivy was consecrated to Bacchus (says a view of the Ægean Sea and the islands, he con- Montlaucon), because he formerly lay hid under teraplated the beauties of nature, and enjoyed the that tree, or, as others will have it, because its felicities of retirement. Vide Barnes, in Anae. leaves resemble those of the vine.' Other reasons sita, see. III. This supposition, however un for its consecration, and the use of it in garlands authenticated, forms a pleasant association, at banquets, may be found in Longepierre, which makes the poem more interesting. Barnes, etc. etc.

2

If before my feet they lay,

Warm with the goblet's freshening I would spurn them all away!

dews, Arm you, arm you, men of might, My heart invokes the heavenly Muse. Hasten to the sanguine fight ;) When I drink, my sorrow's o'er; Let me, oh, my budding vine ! I think of doubts and fears no more ; Spill no other blood than thine. But scatter to the railing wind Yonder brimming goblet see,

Each gloomy pbantom of the mind ! That alone shall vanquish me;

When I drink, the jesting boy, Oh ! I think it sweeter far

Bacchus himself, partakes my joy ; To fall in banquet than in war! And, while we dance through breath

ing bowers, Whose every gale is rich with flowers,

In bowls he makes my senses swim, ODE XLIX.

Till the gale breathes of nought but WHEN Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy, him ! The rosy harbinger of joy,

When I drink, I deftly twine Who, with the sunshine of the bowl, Flowers begemmed with tears of wine ; Thaws the winter of our soul ;

And, while with festive hand I When to my inmost core he glides, spread And bathes it with his ruby tides, The smiling garland round my head, A flow of joy, a lively heat,

Something whispers in my breast, Fires my brain, and wings my feet ! How sweet it is to live at rest ! 'Tis surely something sweet, I think, When I drink, and perfume stills Nay, something heavenly sweet, to Around me all in balmy rills, drink!

Then as some beauty, smiling roses, Sing, sing of love, let Music's breath In languor on my breast reposes, Softly beguile our rapturous death, Venus ? I breathe my vows to thee, While, my young Venus, thou and I In many a sigh of luxury ! To the voluptuous cadence die ! When I drink, my heart refines, Then waking from our languid trance, And rises as the cup declines, — Again we'll sport, again we'll dance. Rises in the genial flow

That none but social spirits know,

When youthful revellers round the ODE L.3

bowl,

Dilating, mingle soul with soul !5 WHEN I drink, I feel, I feel,

When I drink, the bliss is mine, Visions of poetic zeal !

There's bliss in every drop of wine !

I have adopted the interpretation of Regnier markable. It is a kind of song of seven quatrain and others :

stanzas, cach beginning with the line : Altri segua Marte fero;

OT'

εγω πιω τον οίνον, . Che sol Bacco è 'I mio conforto. * This, the preceding ode, and a few more of The first stanza alone is incomplete, consisting

but of three lines. the same character, are merely chansons à boire. Most likely they were the effusions of the moment

* 'Anacreon is not the only one (says Longeof conviviality, and were sung, we imagine, with pierre) whom wine has inspired with poetry. rapture in Greece; but that interesting associa- There is an epigram in the first book of the tion, by which they always recalled the convivial Anthologia, which begins thus: emotions that produced them, can be very little Οινος του χαριεντι μεγας πελει ιππος αοιδω, , felt by the most enthusiastic reader; and much “Υδωρ δε πινων, καλον ου τεκoις επος." less by a phlegmatic grammarian, who sees nothing in them but dialects and particles.

If with water you fill up your glasses, 9 Faber thinks this spurious; but I believe he

You'll never write anything wise; is singular in his opinion. It has all the spirit

For wine is the horse of Parnassus, of our author. Like the wreath which he pre

Which hurries a bard to the skies! sented in the dream, 'it smells of Anacreon.' 5 Subjoined to Gail's edition of Anacreon, there

The form of this ode in the original is re are some curious letters upon the Olaroi of the

All other joys that I have known,
I've scarcely dared to call my own;
But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,
Till Death o'ershadows all my joy!

ODE LI.
Fly not thus, my brow of snow,
Lovely wanton ! Ay not so.
Though the wane of age is mine,
Though the brilliant flush is thine,
Still I'm doomed to sigh for thee,
Blest, if thou could'st sigh for me!
See, in yonder flowery braid,
Culled for thee, my blushing maid,”
How the rose, of orient glow,
Mingles with the lily's snow ;
Mark how sweet their tints agree,
Just, my girl, like thee and me!

They'd make me learn, they'd make me

think,
But would they make me love and

drink?
Teach me this, and let me swim
My soul upon the goblet's brim;
Teach me this, and let me twine
My arms around the nymph divine !4
Age begins to blanch my brow,
I've time for nought but pleasure now.
Fly, and cool my goblet's glow
At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink
This soul to slumber as I drink !
Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
You'll deck your master's grassy grave;
And there's an end-for ah! you know,
They drink but little wine below 15

ODE LII.3
Away, away, you men of rules,
What have I to do with schools ?

ODE LIII.
WHEN I behold the festive train
Of dancing youth, I'm young again !
Memory wakes her magic trance,
And wings me lightly through the dance.

ancients, which appeared in the French journals. of the colour in garlands, a shepherd, in TheoAt the opening of ihe Odeon, in Paris, the mana- critus, endeavours to recommend his black hair: gers of the spectacle requested Professor Gail to και το ιον μελαν εστι, και å give thierm some uncommon name for the fetes of | Αλλ' εμπας εν τοις στεφανους τα πρωτα λεγονται

γραπτα υακινθος This institution. He suggested the word 'Thiase,'

Longepierre, Barnes, etc. shieh was adopted; but the literati of Paris

% This is doubtless the work of a more modern questioned the propriety of it, and addressed their criticisms to Gail, through the medium of poet than Anacreon; for at the period when he the publie prints. Two or three of the letters he lived rhetoricians were not known. -Degen. has inserted in his edition, and they have eli by the Vatican manuscript, I am very much in.

Though the antiquity of this ode is confirmed cited from him some learned research on the sub-clined to agree in this argument against its ject.

Alberti has imitated this ode; and Capilu- authenticity ; for, though the dawnings of pus, in the following epigram, has given a version who gave it any celebrity was Corax of Syracuse,

rhetoric might already have appeared, the first of it:

and he flourished in the century after Anacreon. Cur, Lalage, mea vita, meos contemnis amores ? Our poet anticipated the ideas of Epicurus, in

Cur fugis e nostro pulchra puella sinu ? his aversion to the labours of learning as well as Ne fugias, sint sparsa licet mea tempora canis, his devotion to voluptuousness. Πασαν παιδειαν Inque tuo roseus fulgeat ore color.

μακαριοι φευγετε, said the philosopher of tlie aspice ut intextas deceant quoque flore corollas garden in a letter to Pythocles. Candida purpureis lilia mixta rosis.

* By Xpvons Appositis here, I understand some

beautiful girl; in the same manner that Avaios Ob! why repel my soul's impassioned vow, is often used for wine. "Golden' is frequently

And dy, beloved maid, these longing arms ? an epithet of beauty. Thus in Virgil, Venus is it that wintry time has strewed my brow, aurea,' and in Propertius. 'Cynthia aurea.' Tibul.

And thine are all the summer's roseate charms ? lus, however, calls an old woman 'golden.' See the rich garland, culled in vernal weather,

$ Thus the witty Mainard : Where the young rosebud with the lily glows;

La Mort nous guette; et quand ses lois In wreaths of love we thus may twine together,

Nous ont enfermés une fois And I will be the lily, thou the rose.

An sein d'une fosse profonde,

Adieu bons vins et bons repas, : 'In the same manner that Anacreon pleads Ma science ne trouve pas for the whiteness of his locks, from the beauty Des cabarets en l'autre monde.

Come, Cybeba, smiling maid !

ODE LV.5 Cull the flower and twine the braid ;

While we invoke the wreathèd spring, Bid the blush of summer's rose

Resplendent rose ! to thee we'll sing; Burn upon my brow of suows ;)

Resplendent rose ! the flower of flowers, And let me, while the wild and young Whose breath perfumes Olympus' Trip the mazy dance along,

bowers; Fling my heap of years away,

Whose virgin blush, of chastened dye, And

be as wild, as young as they. Enchants so much our mortal eye. Hither haste, some cordial soul !

When Pleasure's bloomy season glows, Give my lips the brimming bowl;

The Graces love to twine the rose ; Oh! you will see this hoary sage The rose is warm Dione's bliss, Forget his locks, forget his age.

And flushes like Dione's kiss ! He still can chaunt the festive hymn, Oft has the poet's magic tougue He still can kiss the goblet's brim;: The rose's fair luxuriance sung; He still can act the mellow raver,

And long the Muses, heavenly maids, And play the fool as sweet as ever ! Have reared it in their tuneful shades.

When, at the early glance of morn,

It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,
ODE LIV.3

'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,

To cull the timid Howeret thence, METHINKS the pictured bull we see And wipe, with tender hand, away Is amorous Jove-it must be he!

The tear that on its blushes lay! How fondly blest he seems to bear 'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems, The fairest of Phænician fair !

Yet dropping with Aurora's gems, How proud he breasts the foamy tide, And fresh inhale the spicy sighs And spurns the billowy surge aside! That from the weeping buds arise. could any beast of vulgar vein When revel reigns, when mirth is high, Undaunted thus defy the main ! And Bacchus beams in every eye, No: he descends from climes above, Our rosy fillets scent exhale, He looks the god, he breathes of Jove ! And fill with balm the fainting gale !

1 'It appears that wreaths of flowers were carried across the sea by a bull, Thus Natalis adapted for poets and revellers at banquets, bat Comes, lib. viii. cap. 23 : Sidonii numismata cum by no means became those who had pretensions fæminâ tauri dorso insidente ac mare trinsfreto wisdom and philosophy.' On this principle, tante, cuderunt in ejus honorem.'. In the little in his 152d chapter, Licetus discovers a retine- treatise upon the goddess of Syria, attributed ment in Virgil, describing the garland of the poet very falsely to Lucian, there is mention of this Silenus as fallen off; which distinguishes, he coin, and of a temple dedicated by the Sidonians thinks, the divine intoxication of Silenus from to Astarte, whom some, it appears, confounded that of common drunkards, who always wear with Europa. Moschus has written a very their crowns while they drink. This, indeed, is beautiful idyl on the story of Europa. the labor ineptiarum of commentators.

+ Thus Moschus: 2 Wine is prescribed by Galen as an excellent Κρυψε θεον και τρεψε δε μας και γινετο ταυρος. medicine for old men, 'Quod frigidos et humoribus cxpletos calcfaciat, etc.; but nature was

The God forgot himself, his heaven, for love, Anacreon's physician.

And a bull's form belied the almiglity Jove. There is a proverb in Eriphus, as quoted by 5 This ode is a 'rilliant panegyric on the rose. Athenæus, which says, 'that wine makes an old 'All antiquity (says Barnes) has produced nothing man dance whether he will or not.'

more beantiful.

From the idea of peculiar excellence which the
Λογος εστ' αρχαιος, ον κακως εχων, ancients attached to this flower, arose a pretty
Οινον λεγουσι τους γεροντας, ω πατέρ,
Πειθειν χορεειν ου θελοντας.

proverbial expression, used by Aristophanes, ac .

cording to Suidas, ροδα μ' ειρηκας, You have 3 "This ode is written upon a picture which spoken roses,' a phrase somewhat similar to the represented the rape of Europa.' – Madame dire des fleurettes' of the French. In the same Dacier.

idea of excellence originated, I doubt not, a very It may perhaps be considered as a description curious application of the word pogov,

for which of one of those coins which the Sidonians struck the inquisitive reader may consult Gaulniaus off in honour of Europa, representing a woman upon the epithalamium of our duet, where it is

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