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Oh, there is nought in nature bright,
Where roses do not shed their light!
When morning paints the orient skies,
Her fingers burn with roseate dyes ;'
The nymphs display the rose's charms,
It mantles o'er their graceful arms;
Through Cytherea's form it glows,
And mingles with the living snows.
The rose distils a healing balm,
The beating pulse of pain to calm;
Preserves the cold inurned clay,2
And mocks the vestige of decay:
And when, at length, in pale decline,
Its florid beauties fade and pine,
Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath
Diffuses odour e'en in death!
Oh! whence could such a plant have
sprung ?

Attend-for thus the tale is sung.
When, humid, from the silvery stream,
Effusing beauty's warmest beam,
Venus appeared, in flushing hues,
Mellowed by Ocean's briny dews;
When, in the starry courts above,
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove

introduced in the romance of Theodorus. Mure-
tas, in one of his elegies, calls his mistress his

rose:

Jam te igitur rursus teneo, formosula, jam te
(Quid trepidas ?) teneo; jam, rosa, te teneo.-
Eleg. 8.

Now I again embrace thee, dearest,
(Tell me, wanton, why thou fearest ?)
Again my longing arms infold thee,
Again, my rose, again I hold thee.
This, like most of the terms of endearment in the
modern Latin poets, is taken from Plautus: they
were vulgar and colloquial in his time, and they
are among the elegances of the modern Latinists.
In the original here, he enumerates the many
epithets of beauty, borrowed from roses, which
were used by the poets, παρα των σοφών.
We
see that poets were dignified in Greece with the
title of sages; even the careless Anacreon, who
lived but for love and voluptuousness, was called
by Plato the wise Anacreon. Fuit hæc sapientia
quondam.

He here alludes to the use of the rose in embalming, and perhaps (as Earnes thinks) to the rosy unguent with which Venus anointed the corpse of Hector. It may likewise regard the ancient practice of putt ng garlands of roses on the dead, as in Statius, Theb. lib. x. 782:

Hi sertis, hi veris honore soluto Accumulant artus patriâque in sede reponunt Corpus odoratum, —

where 'veris honor,' though it means every kind of flowers, may seem more particularly to refer to the rose. We read, in the Hieroglyphics of

Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,
The nymph who shakes the martial
lance!

Then, then, in strange eventful hour,
The earth produced an infant flower,
Which sprung, with blushing tinctures
dressed,

And wantoned o'er its parent breast.
The gods beheld this brilliant birth,
And hailed the Rose, the boon of earth!
With nectar drops, a ruby tide,
The sweetly orient buds they dyed,3
And bade them bloom, the flowers
divine

Of him who sheds the teeming vine;
And bade them on the spangled thorn
Expand their bosoms to the morn.

ODE LVI.4

HE, who instructs the youthful crew
To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,

Pierius, lib. lv., that some of the ancients used to
order in their wills, that roses should be annually
scattered on their tombs, and he has adduced
some sepulchral inscriptions to this purpose.

* The author of the Pervigilium Veneris (a poem attributed to Catullus, the style of which appears to me to have all the laboured luxuriance of a much later period) ascribes the tincture of the rose to the blood from the wound of AdonisRosa

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Illa quidem studiosa suum defendere Adonim,
Gradivus stricto quem petit ense ferox,
Affixit duris vestigia cæca rosetis,
Albaque divino pieta cruore rosa est.
While the enamoured queen of joy
Flies to protect her lovely boy,

On whom the jealous war-god rushes;
She treads upon a thornèd rose,
And while the wound with crimson flows,

The snowy floweret feels her blood, and blushes]

This appears to be one of the hymns whict vintage; one of the eminio vol, as our poet were sung at the anniversary festival of the himself terms them in the fifty-ninth ode. We cannot help feeling a peculiar veneration for these relics of the religion of antiquity. Horace may be supposed to have written the nineteenth ode of his second book and the twenty-fifth of the third for some bacchanalian celebration of this kind.

And taste, uncloyed by rich

cesses,

ex-Imagine thus, in semblance warm,
The Queen of Love's voluptuous form,
Floating along the silvery sea
In beauty's naked majesty?
Oh! he has given the raptured sight
A witching banquet of delight;
And all those sacred scenes of Love,
Where only hallowed eyes may rove,
Lie faintly glowing, half-concealed,
Within the lucid billows veiled.
Light as the leaf that summer's

All the bliss that wine possesses!
He, who inspires the youth to glance
In winged circlets through the dance!
Bacchus, the god, again is here,
And leads along the blushing year ;
The blushing year with rapture teems,
Ready to shed those cordial streams
Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,
Illuminate the sons of earth!1

And when the ripe and vermil wine,
Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,
Which now in mellow clusters swells,
Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,
The heavenly stream shall mantling
flow,

To balsam every mortal woe!

No youth shall then be wan or weak, For dimpling health shall light the cheek;

No heart shall then desponding sigh, For wine shall bid despondence fly! Thus till another autumn's glow Shall bid another vintage flow!

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1 Madame Dacier thinks that the poet here had the nepenthé of Homer in his mind.-Odyssey, lib. iv. This nepenthé was a something of exquisite charm, infused by Helea into the wine of her guests, which had the power of dispelling every anxiety. A French writer, with very elegant gallantry, conjectures that this spell, which made the bowl so beguiling, was the charm of Helen's conversation. See de Meré, quoted by Bayle, art Helène.

2 This ode is a very animated description of a picture of Venus on a discus, which represented the goddess in her first emergence from the waves. About two centuries after our poet wrote, the pencil of the artist Apelles embellished this subject, in his famous painting of the Venus Anadyomené, the model of which, as Pliny informs us, was the beautiful Campaspe, given to him by Alexander; though, according to Natalis Comes, lib. vii. cap. 16, it was Phryne who sat to Apelles for the face and breast of this Venus.

breeze

Has wafted o'er the glassy seas,
She floats upon the ocean's breast,
Which undulates in sleepy rest,
And stealing on, she gently pillows
Her bosom on the amorous billows.
Her bosom, like the humid rose,
Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,
Illume the liquid path she traces,
And burn within the stream's em-
braces!

In languid luxury soft she glides,
Encircled by the azure tides,

Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,

Upon a bed of violets sleeping! Beneath their queen's inspiring glance, The dolphins o'er the green

dance,

sea

Bearing in triumph young Desire,
And baby Love with smiles of fire!
While, sparkling on the silver waves,
The tenants of the briny caves
Around the pomp in eddies play,
And gleam along the watery way.

There are a few blemishes in the reading of the ode before us, which have influenced Faber, Heyne, Brunck, etc., to denounce the whole poe n as spurious. Non ego pancis offendar maculis. I think it is beautiful enough to be authentic.

s The abruptness of αρα τις τόρευσε ποντον is finely expressive of sudden adiniration, and is one of those beauties which we cannot but admire in their source, though by frequent imitation they are now become languid and unimpressive.

The picture here has all the delicate character of the semi-reducta Venus, and is the sweetest emblem of what the poetry of passion ought to be; glowing but through a veil, and stealing upon the heart from concealment. Few of the ancients have attained this modesty of descrip tion, which is, like the golden cloud that hur over Jupiter and Juno, impervious to every bear but that of fancy.

ODE LVIII.1

WHEN gold, as fleet as Zephyr's pinion,
Escapes like any faithless minion,"
And flies me (as he flies me ever),3
Do I pursue him? never, never!
No, let the false deserter go,
For who would court his direst foe?
But when I feel my lightened mind
No more by ties of gold confined,
I loosen all my clinging cares,
And cast them to the vagrant airs,
Then, then I feel the Muse's spell,
And wake to life the dulcet shell;
The dulcet shell to beauty sings,
Aud love dissolves along the strings!
Thus, when my heart is sweetly taught
How little gold deserves a thought,
The winged slave returns once more,
And with him wafts delicious store
Of racy wine, whose balmy art
In slumber seals the anxious heart!
Again he tries my soul to sever
From love and song, perhaps for ever!
Away, deceiver! why pursuing
Ceaseless thus my heart's undoing?
Sweet is the song of amorous fire;
Sweet are the sighs that thrill the lyre;
Oh! sweeter far than all the gold
The waftage of thy wings can hold.
I well remember all thy wiles
They withered Cupid's flowery smiles,
And o'er his harp such garbage shed,
I thought its angel breath was fled!

;

I have followed Barnes' arrangement of this ode; it deviates somewhat from the Vatican MS., but it appeared to me the more natural order.

They tainted all his bowl of blisses,
His bland desires and hallowed kisses.4

Oh! fly to haunts of sordid men,
But rove not near the bard again;
Thy glitter in the Muse's shade
Scares from her bower the tuneful maid;
And not for worlds would I forego
That moment of poetic glow,
When my full soul, in Fancy's stream,
Pours o'er the lyre its swelling theme.
Away, away! to worldlings hence,
Who feel not this diviner sense,
And, with thy gay fallacious blaze,
Dazzle their unrefined gaze.

ODE LIX.5

SABLED by the solar beam,
Now the fiery clusters teem,
In osier baskets, borne along
By all the festal vintage throng
Of rosy youths and virgins fair,
Ripe as the melting fruits they bear.
Now, now they press the pregnant
grapes,

And now the captive stream escapes,
In fervid tide of nectar gushing,
And for its bondage proudly blush-
ing!

While, round the vat's impurpled brim,
The choral song, the vintage hymn

Cæli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa,
Illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam,

Plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes,
Nunc, etc.

Si sic omnia dixisset! but the rest does not bear
citation.

• Original:

Φιλημάτων δε κεδνων,
Ποθων κυπελλα κίρνης

There is a kind of pun in these words, as Madame Dacier has already remarked; for Chrysos, which signifies gold, was also a frequent name for a slave. In one of Lucian's dialogues there is, I think, a similar play upon the word, where the followers of Chrysippus are called golden fishes. The puns of the ancients are in general even more vapid than our own; Horace has, Desiderique temperare poculum;' some of the best are those recorded of Diogenes not figuratively, however, like Anacreon, but im3 Acı 8°, acı μe devyel. This grace of iteration porting the love-philtres of the witches. By has already been taken notice of. Though some-vourite gallantry among the ancients, of drinking cups of kisses' our poet may allude to a fatimes merely a playful beauty, it is peculiarly when the lips of their mistresses had touched expressive of impassioned sentiment, and we may the brim: easily believe that it was one of the many sources of that energetic sensibility which breathed through the style of Sappho. See Gyrald. Vet. Poet, Dial. 9. It will not be said that this is a mechanical ornament by any one who can feel its charm in those lines of Catullus, where he complains of the infidelity of his mistress, Lesbia:

'Or leave a kiss within the cup,

And I'll not ask for wine.'

5 Degen, in the true spirit of literary scepti cism, doubts that this ode is genuine, without assigning any reason for such a suspicion. 'Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare;' but this is far from satisfactory criticism.

Of rosy youths and virgins fair,
Steals on the cloyed and panting air.
Mark, how they drink, with all their

eyes,

The orient tide that sparkling flies;
The infant balm of all their fears,
The infant Bacchus, born in tears!
When he, whose verging years decline
As deep into the vale as mine,
When he inhales the vintage spring,
His heart is fire, his foot's a wing;
And, as he flies, his hoary hair
Plays truant with the wanton air!
While the warm youth, whose wishing
soul

Has kindled o'er the inspiring bowl,
Impassioned seeks the shadowy grove,
Where, in the tempting guise of love,
Reclining sleeps some witching maid,
Whose sunny charms, but half dis-
played,

Blush through the bower, that, closely twined,

Excludes the kisses of the wind!
The virgin wakes, the glowing boy
Allures her to the embrace of joy ;
Swears that the herbage heaven has
spread

Was sacred as the nuptial bed;
That laws should never bind desire,
And love was nature's holiest fire !
The virgin weeps, the virgin sighs;
He kissed her lips, he kissed her eyes;
The sigh was balm, the tear was dew,
They only raised his flame anew.
And, oh! he stole the sweetest flower
That ever bloomed in any bower!

Such is the madness wine imparts.
Whene er it steals on youthful hearts.

ODE LX.1

AWAKE to life, my dulcet shell,
To Phoebus all thy sighs shall swell;

'This hymn to Apollo is supposed not to have been written by Anacreon, and it certainly is rather a sublimer flight than the Teian wing is accustomed to soar. But we ought not to judge from this diversity of style, in a poet of whom time has preserved such partial relics. If we knew Horace but as a satirist, should we easily

And though no glorious prize be thine,
No Pythian wreath around thee twine,
Yet every hour is glory's hour,
To him who gathers wisdom's flower!
Then wake thee from thy magic slum-
bers,

Breathe to the soft and Phrygian num'bers,

Which, as my trembling lips repeat, Thy chords shall echo back as sweet. The cygnet thus, with fading notes, As down Cayster's tide he floats, Plays with his snowy plumage fair Upon the wanton murmuring air, Which amorously lingers round, And sighs responsive sound for sound Muse of the Lyre! illume my dream, Thy Phoebus is my fancy's theme; And hallowed is the harp I bear, And hallowed is the wreath I wear, Hallowed by him, the god of lays, Who modulates the choral maze! I sing the love which Daphne twined Around the godhead's yielding mind; I sing the blushing Daphne's flight From this æthereal youth of light; And how the tender, timid maid Flew panting to the kindly shade, Resigned a form, too tempting fair, And grew a verdant laurel there; Whose leaves, with sympathetic thrill, In terror seemed to tremble still! The god pursued, with winged desire; And when his hopes were all on fire, And when he thought to hear the sigh With which enamoured virgins die, He only heard the pensive air Whispering amid her leafy hair! But oh, my soul! no more-no more! Enthusiast, whither do I soar? This sweetly maddening dream of soul Has hurried me beyond the goal. Why should I sing the mighty darts Which fly to wound celestial hearts, When sure the lay, with sweeter tone, Can tell the darts that wound my own?

believe there could dwell such animation in his lyre ? Suidas says that our poet wrote hymns, and this perhaps is one of them. We can perceive in what an altered and imperfect state his works are at present, when we find a scholiast upon Horace citing an ode from the third book of Anacreon.

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And wafts from our enamoured arms The banquet's mirth, the virgin's charmis. + Regnier, a libertine French poet, has written some sonnets on the approach of death, full of gloomy and trembling repentance. Chaulieu, however, supports more consistently the spirit of the Epicurean philosopher. See his poem, addressed to the Marquis La Farre: Plus j'approche du terme et moins je le redoute, etc. I shall leave it to the moralist to make his reflections here: it is impossible to be very Anacreontic on such a subject.

5 Scaliger, upon Catullus' well-known lines, 'Qui nunc it per iter,' etc., remarks that Acheron, with the same idea, is called avegodos by Theocritus, and 8voexopoμos by Nicander.

Here ends the last of the odes in the Vatican MS., whose authority confirms the genuine antiquity of them all, though a few have stolen among the number which we may hesitate in attributing to Anacreon. In the little essay prefixed to this translation, I observed that Barnes had quoted this manuscript in orrectly, relying apon an imperfect copy of it, which Isaac Vossius had taken; I shall just mention two or three instances of this inaccuracy, the first which occur to me. In the ode of the Dove, on the words Πτέροισι συγκαλύψω, he say, "Vatican MS. via, etiani Prisciano invito, though the 18. reads συγκαλύψω, with συσκιάσω interlined. Degen, too, on the same line, is somewhat in error. In the twenty-second ode of this series, line thirteenth, the MS. has revin with at inter lined, and Barnes imputes to it the reading of Ten. In the fifty-seventh, line twelfth, he professes to have preserved the reading of the MS. Adauern 8' en aurn, while the latter has adaqueros 8' en aura. Almost all the other annotators have transplanted these errors from Barnes. The intrusion of this melancholy ode among the careless levities of our poet, has always reminded me of the skeletons which the Egyptians used to hang up in their banquet-rooms to inculcate a thought of mortality even amidst the dissipations of mirth. If it were not for the beauty of its numbers, the Teian Muse should founded:disown this ode. Quid habet illius, illius quae spirabat amores?

To Stobaus we are indebted for it.

6 This ode consists of two fragments, which are to be found in Athenæus, book x., and which Barnes, from the similarity of their tendency, I think this a very has combined into one. justifiable liberty, and have adopted it in some other fragments of our poet. Degen refers us here to verses of Uz, lib. iv. der Trinker.

7 It was Amphictyon who first taught the Greeks to mix water with their wine; in commemoration of which circumstance they erected altars to Bacchus and the nymphs. On this mythological allegory the following epigram is

Ardentem ex utero Semeles lavere Lyæum

Naiades, extincto fulminis igne sacri;
Cum nymphis igitur tractabilis, at sine nymphs
Candenti rursus fulmine corripitur.
-Pierius Valerianus.

Horace often, with feeling and elegance, de-
plores the fugacity of human enjoyments. See
book ii. ode 11; and thus in the second epistle, Which is, non verbum verbo,

book it.:

Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes,
Eripuere jocos, venerem, convivia, ludum.

The wing of every passing day
Withers some blooming joy away

While heavenly fire consumed his Theban dame
A Naiad caught young Bacchus from the flame,
And dipped him burning in her purest lymph:
Still, still he loves the sea-maid's crystal urn,
And when his native fires infuriate burn,

1 He bathes him in the fountain of the nymph.

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