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Thus he spoke, and she the while
Heard him with a soothing smile;
Then said, My infant, if so much
Thou feel the little wild bee's touch,
How must the heart, ab, Cupid! be,
The hapless heart that 's stung by thee!

ODE XXXVI.'

Ir hoarded gold possess'd a power
To lengthen life's too fleeting hour,
And purchase from the hand of death
A little span, a moment's breath,
How I would love the precious ore!
And every day should swell my store;

That when the Fates would send their minion,

To waft me off on shadowy pinion,

I might some hours of life obtain,
And bribe him back to hell again.
But, since we ne'er can charm away
The mandate of that awful day,
Why do we vainly weep at fate,
And sigh for life's uncertain date?
The light of gold can ne'er illume
The dreary midnight of the tomb!

And why should I then pant for treasures?
Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures;
The goblet rich, the board of friends,
Whose flowing souls the goblet blends!
Mine be the nymph whose form reposes
Seductive on that bed of roses;
And oh! be mine the soul's excess,
Expiring in her warm caress!

ODE XXXVII.'

"T WAS night, and many a circling bowl Had deeply warm'd my swimming soul;

Monsieur Fontenelle has translated this ode. in his dialogue between Anacreon and Aristotle in the shades, where he bestows the prize of wisdom upon the poet.

. The German imitators of it are, Lessing, in his poem Gestern Brüder, etc. Gleim, in the ode An den Tod, and Schmidt, in der Poet Blumenl. Goting, 1783, p. 7.--Degen.

That when the Fates would send their minion,

To waft me off on shadowy pinion, etc.] The commentators, who are so fond of disputing de lana caprioa, have been very busy on the authority of the phrase t'avvenλy. The reading of iv'av Gavaros Eney, which De Medenbach' proposes in his Amonitates Litteraria, was already hinted by Le Fevre, who seldom suggests any thing worth notice.

The goblet rich, the board of friends,

Whose flowing souls the goblet blends! This communion of friendship, which sweetened the bowl of Anac.eon, has not been forgotten by the author of the following scholium, where the blessings of life are caumerated with proverbial simplicity. Tycarved pets apt50v avôpe Jvyrą. Asutepov de, zahov punu yeye5921. Το τρίτον δε, πλουτείν αδόλως. Nat TO TETASTO, συνήβαν μετα των φίλων.

Of mortal blessings here, the first is health,

And next, those charms by which the eye we move;
The third is wealth, unwounding, guiltless wealth,
And then, an intercourse with those we love!

1. Compare with this ode the beautiful poem, 'der Traum of U'z.'» Degen.

Monsieur Le Fevre. in a note upon this ode, enters into an elabo¦rate and learned justification of drunkenness; and this is probably

As lull'd in slumber I was laid,
Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd!
With virgins, blooming as the dawn,
I seem'd to trace the opening lawn;
Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,
We flew, and sported as we flew!
Some ruddy striplings, young and sleek,
With blush of Bacchus on their cheek,
Saw me trip the flowery wild
With dimpled girls, and slyly smiled-
Smiled indeed with wanton glee;
But ah!'t was plain they envied me.
And still I flew-and now I caught
The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
To kiss-when all my dream of joys,
Dimpled girls and ruddy boys,

.

All were gone! Alas! I said, Sighing for the illusions fled,

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LET us drain the nectar'd bowl,
Let us raise the song of soul
To him, the god who loves so well
The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!
Him, who instructs the sons of earth,
To thrid the tangled dance of mirth;
Him, who was nursed with infant Love,
And cradled in the Paphian grove;
Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms
llas fondled in her twining arms.

the cause of the severe reprehension which I believe he suffered for his Anacreon. Fuit olim fateor (says he, in a note upon Longions), cum Sapphonem amabam. Sed ex quo illa me perditissima fœmina pene miserum perdidit cum sceleratissimo suo congerrone (Anacreontem dico, si nescis Lector), noli sperare, etc. etc. He adduces on this ode the authority of Plato, who allowed ebriety, at the Dionysian festivals, to men arrived at their fortieth year. He likewise quotes the following line from Alexis, which he says no one, who is not totally ignorant of the world, can besitate to confess the truth of:

Ουδείς φιλοπότης εςιν άνθρωπος κακός.

No lover of drinking was ever a vicious man. when all my dream of joys,

Dimpled girls and ruddy boys,

All were gone! Nonnus says of Bacchus, almost in the same words that Anacreon uses,

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Oh! let me dream them o'er and o'er!] Dr Johnson, in his preface

to Shakspeare, animadverting upon the commentators of that poet, who pretende, in every little coincidence of thought to detect an imitation of some ancient poet, alludes in the following words to the line of Anacreon before us: I have been told that when Caliban, after a pleasing dream, says, I tried to sleep again, the author imitates Anacreon, who had, like any other man, the same wish on the same occasion.

Compare with this beautiful ode the verses of Hagedorn, lib. v, das Gesellschaftliche; and of Borger, p. 51, etc. etc. Degen. Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms

Has fond'el in her twining arms.] Robertellus, upon the epithaJamiam of Catalius, mentions an ingenions derivation of Cytheria, the name of Venus, Tapa тO XEJÕID) TOUS EpWTxf, which seems to bint that Love's fairy favours are lost, when not concealed,

From him that dream of transport flows,
Which sweet intoxication knows;
With him the brow forgets to darkle,
And brilliant graces learn to sparkle.
Behold! my boys a goblet bear,]
Whose sunny foam bedews the air.
Where are now the tear, the sigh?
To the winds they fly, they fly!
Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking,
Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking!
Oh! can the tears we lend to thought
In life's account avail us aught?
Can we discern, with all our lore,
The path we 're yet to journey o'er?
No, no, the walk of life is dark,
"T is wine alone can strike a spark!
Then let me quaff the foamy tide,
And through the dance meandering glide;
Let me imbibe the spicy breath
Of odours chafed to fragrant death;
Or from the kiss of love inhale
A more voluptuous, richer gale!
To souls that court the phantom Care,
Let him retire and shroud him there;
While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl,
And swell the choral song of soul
To him, the God who loves so well
The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!

ODE XXXIX.

How I love the festive boy,
Tripping with the dance of joy!
How I love the mellow sage,
Smiling through the veil of age!
And whene'er this man of
years
In the dance of joy appears,
Age is on his temples hung,
But his heart-his heart is young!

No, no, the walk of life is dark,

'Tis wine alone can strike a spark!] The brevity of life allows arguments for the voluptuary as well as the moralist. Among many parallel passages which Longepierre has adduced, I shall content myself with this epigram from the Anthologia:

Λουσάμενοι, Προδική, πυκασώμεθα, και τον ακρατου
Έλκωμεν, κύλικας μείζονας αραμένοι.
Ραιος ὁ χαιροντων εξι βιος. είτα τα λοιπα
Γηρας κωλύσει, και το τέλος θάνατος.

Of which the following is a loose paraphrase:

Fly, my beloved, to yonder stream,

We'll plunge us from the noontide beam!
Then cull the rose's humid bud,

And dip it in our goblet's flood.
Our age of bliss, my nymph, shall fly
As sweet, though passing, as that sigh
Which seems to whisper o'er your lip,

Come, while you may, of rapture sip.»
For age will steal the rosy form,
And chill the pulse, which trembles warm!
And death-alas! that hearts, which thrill
Like yours and mine, should e'er be still!

Age is on his temples hung,

But his heart-his heart is young Saint Pavin makes the same distinction in a sonnet to a young girl.

Je sais bien que les destinées

Ont mal compassé nos années;

ODE XL.

I KNOW that Heaven ordains me here
To run this mortal life's career;
The scenes which I have journey'd o'er
Return no more-alas! no more;
And all the path I've yet to go

I neither know nor ask to know.
Then surely, Care, thou canst not twine
Thy fetters round a soul like mine;
No, no, the heart that feels with me
Can never be a slave to thee!
And oh! before the vital thrill,
Which trembles at my heart, is still,
I'll gather joy's luxurious flowers,
And gild with bliss my fading hours;
Bacchus shall bid my winter bloom,
And Venus dance me to the tomb!

ODE XLI.

WHEN Spring beg,ems the dewy scene, How sweet to walk the velvet green, And hear the Zephyr's languid sighs, As o'er the scented mead he flies! How sweet to mark the pouting vine, Ready to fall in tears of wine;

Ne regardez que mon amour.
Peut-être en serez vous émue:
Il est jeune, et n'est que du jour,
Belle Iris, que je vous ai vae.

Fair and young, thoa bloomest now,

And I full many a year have told; But read the heart and not the brow, Thou shalt not find my love is old, My love's a child; and thou canst say How much his little age may be, For he was born the very day

That first I set my eyes on thee!

No, no, the heart that feels with me,

Can never be a slave to thee !] Longepierre quotes an epigram here from the Anthologia, on account of the similarity of a particular phrase; it is by no means Anacreontic, but bas an interesting simplicity which induced me to paraphrase it, and may atone for its

intrusion.

Ελπες, και συ, τυχη, μεγα χαίρετε τον λιμεν εὗρον.
Ουδέν μοι χ' ύμιν· παίζετε τους μετ' εμε.

At length to Fortune, and to you,
Delusive Hope! a last adieu.
The charm that once beguiled is o er,
And I bave reach'd my destined shore!

Away, away, your flattering arts
May now betray some simpler hearts,
And you will smile at their believing,
And they shall weep at your deceiving!

Bacchus shall bid my winter bloom,

And Venus dance me to the tomb!] The same commentator has quoted an epitaph, written upon our poet by Julian, where he makes him give the precepts of good-fellowship even from the tomb. Πολλάκι μεν τοῦ' αείσα, και εκ τυμβου δε βοήσω Πίνετε, πριν ταυτην αμφιβάλησθε κονιν.

This lesson oft in life I sung,

And from my grave I still shall cry,
Drink, mortal! drink, while time is young.
Ere death has made thee cold as I..

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WLI MITT 3 up and many a smie
The festa momens we beguile.
And while the harp impassion & fings
Tasuta rascare from the scrags
Some LT 2Taşa, wo fan: Labs,
Throggh the fador latamani SW 238.
Warenser mowy hand,

The stafy Barthazılan wisd

W- ch, as the treping wanton fes
Stakes its tresses to her sighs.

A youth, the while, with joosen'd har
Floating on the lastess air,

Sings, to the wild hary s tender some,

A tale of woes, alas las can.

And then, what mectar in his sughh,

As o er his ps the marmurs die
Surely never yet has been

So divine, so blest a scene!

Has Capa eft the starry sphere,
To wave his goiden tresses here'
On yes and Venus, queen of wies,
And Barehus, shed in rosy smiles,
Ali, all are here, te hail with me
The Genius of Festivity!

The gall that Envy's tongue can shed.
Away-I hate the slanderous dart
Which steals to wound the unwary heart;
And oh I hate, with all my soul,
Discordant clamours o'er the bowl,
Where every cordial heart should be
Attuned to peace and harmony.
Come, let us hear the soul of song
Expire the silver harp along:
And through the dance's ringlet move,
With maidens mellowing into love;
Thus simply happy, thus at peace,
Sure such a life should never cease'

ODE XLIII.

WHILE our rosy fillets shed Blushes o'er each fervid head,

And with the maid, whore every sigh

Is love and bliss, etc. Thus Horace:

Quid habes illias, illias

Que spirabat amores,

Que me surpuerat mihi.

And does there then remain but this,

And hast thou lost each rosy ray
Of her, who breathed the soul of bliss,
And stole me from myself away?

1 The character of Anacreon is here very strikingly depicte1. His lov: of secial, harmonizel pleasures is expressed with a warmib, amiable and endearing. Among the epigrams imputed to Ana reon is the following; it is the only one worth translation, and it breathes the same sentiments with this ode:

Ου φίλος, ὃς κρητήρι παρα πλέω οινοποτάζων,
Νείκεα και πολεμον δακρυόεντα λέγει.

Αλλ' όςις Μουσεων τε, και αγλαά δωρ' Αφροδίτης
Συμμισγών, ερατης μνήσκεται ευφροσύνης.

When to the lip the brimming cup is press'd,
And hearts are all afloat upon the stream,
Then banish from my board the unpolish'd guest
Who makes the feats of war his barl arous theme.

But bring the man, who o'er his goblet wreathes
The Mase's laurel with the Cyprian Bower:
Ob give me him whose heart expansive breathes
All the rebnements of the social hour.

And while the harp, imparsion d, fings

Tune al rupture (rom the strings, etc.) On the barb son a host of authorities may be conected, wilch after all leave us ignorant of the nature of the instrument. There is scarcely any point upon which we are so tocally us informed as the music of the ancients. The athors (a) extant upon the subject are, I imag ne, liitle understood, bat certainly if one of their moods was a progression by quartertones, which we are told was the nature of the enharmonit kzie, simplicity was by no means the characteristic of their melody, for this is a nicety of progression of which modern music is not suscep title.

The invention of the barbiton is, by Athenres, artributed to Anacreon. See his fourth book, where it is called to ORUZ TOU Avantcovros. Neanthes of Cyricas, as quoted by Gyraldus, asserts Vide Chabot, în Horat. on the words - Lesboum barbiton, in the first ode.

the same.

And then, what nectar in kis vigh,

As o'er his lip the murmurs die Longepierre has quoted bere an epigram from the Anthologia:

Κουρη τις μ' εφίλησε ποθέστερα χείλεσιν ύγροις. Nextap egy to piqua. To yap 50μz VENTapos ERVEL. Νυν κεθυωτό φίλημα, πολύν τον έρωτα πεπωκώς.

Of which the following may give some idea:

The kiss that she left on my lip

Like a dew-drop sball lingering lie;

'T was nectar she gave me to sip,
I was nectar i drank in her sigh!

The dew that distill'd in that kiss,

To my soul was voluptuous wine;
Ever since it is drunk with the bliss,
And feels a deliriam divine!

Has Cupid left the starry sphere,

To ware his golden tresses here?” The Introduction of these deities ty the festival is merely allegorical, Madame Dasier thinks that the poet describes a masquerade, where these deities were personated by the company in masks. The translation will conform with either

idea.

All, all are here, to hail with me

The Genius of Festivity!) Nopos, the deity or genius of mirth. Philostratus, in the third of his pictures (as all the annotators have observed) gives a very beautiful description of this god,

(a) Collected by Meibomius.

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ODE XLIV. '

Buds of roses, virgin flowers,
Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers,
In the bowl of Bacchus steep,

Till with crimson drops they weep!
Twine the rose, the garland twine,
Every leaf distilling wine;

Drink and smile, and learn to think
That we were born to smile and drink.
Rose! thou art the sweetest flower
That ever drank the amber shower;
Rose! thou art the fondest child

Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild!
Even the gods, who walk the sky,
Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
Cupid too, in Paphian shades,
His hair with rosy fillet braids,

When, with the blushing naked Graces,
The wanton winding dance he traces.
Then bring me showers of roses, bring,
And shed them round me while I sing;
Great Bacchus! in thy hallow'd shade,
With some celestial, glowing maid,
While gales of roses round me rise,
In perfume sweeten'd by her sighs,
I'll bill and twine in early dance,
Commingling soul with every glance!

ODE XLV.

WITHIN this goblet, rich and deep,
I cradle all my woes to sleep.

Why should we breathe the sigh of fear,
Or pour the unavailing tear?
For Death will never heed the sigh,
Nor soften at the tearful eye;
And eyes that sparkle, eyes that weep,
Must all alike be seal'd in sleep:
Then let us never vainly stray,

In search of thorns, from pleasure's way;
Oh! let us quaff the rosy wave
Which Bacchus loves, which Bacchus gave;
And in the goblet, rich and deep,
Cradle our crying woes to sleep!

This spirited poem is a eulogy on the rose; and again, in the fifty-fifth ode, we shall find our author rich in the praises of that flower. In a fragment of Sappho, in the romance of Achilles Tatias, to which Barnes refers us, the rose is very elegantly styled the eye of flowers; and the same poetess, in another fragment, calls the favours of the Muse the roses of Pieria. See the notes on the fifty

fifth ode.

Compare with this forty-fourth ode (says the German annotator) the beautiful ode of Uz die Rose."

When with the blushing, naked Graces,

The wanton winding dance he traces.] This sweet idea of Love dancing with the Graces, is almost peculiar to Anacreon.»-DEGEN.

SEE, the

ODE XLVI. '

young, the rosy Spring,

Gives to the breeze her spangled wing;
While virgin Graces, warm with May,
Fling roses o'er her dewy way!
The murmuring billows of the deep
Have languish'd into silent sleep;
And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave
Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
While cranes from hoary winter fly
To flutter in a kinder sky.
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away;

And cultured field, and winding stream,
Are sweetly tissued by his beam.
Now the earth prolific swells
With leafy buds and flowery bells;
Gemming shoots the olive twine,
Clusters ripe festoon the vine;
All along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see
Nursing into luxury!

ODE XLVII.

'T is true, my fading years decline, Yet I can quaff the brimming wine

The fastidious affectation of some commentators has denounced this ode as spurious. Degen pronounces the four last lines to be the patch-work of some miserable versificator, and Brunck condemns the whole ode. It appears to me to be elegantly graphical; full of delicate expressions and luxuriant imagery. The abruptness of 16ε πως έαρος φανέντος is striking and spirited, and has been imitated rather languidly by Horace:

Vides ut alta stet nive candidum Soracte

The imperative de is infinitely more impressive, as in Shak

speare,

But look, the morn, în russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

There is a simple and poetical description of Spring, in Catullus's beautiful farewell to Bithynia. Carm. 44.

Barnes conjectures, in his life of our poet, that this ode was written after he had returned from Athens, to settle in his paternal seat at Teos; there, in a little villa at some distance from the city, which commanded a view of the Egean Sea and the islands, he contemplated the beauties of nature, and enjoyed the felicities of retirement. Vide Barnes, in Anac. vita, sect. xxxv. This supposition, however unauthenticated, forms a pleasant association, which makes the poem more interesting.

Monsieur Chevreau says that Gregory Nazianzenus has paraphrased somewhere this description of Spring: I cannot find it. See Chevreau, OEuvres Mélées.

Compare with this ode (says Degen) the verses of Hagedorn, book fourth der Frübling, and book fifth der Mai..

While virgin Graces, warm with May,

Fling roses o'er her dewy way!] De Pauw reads, Xapitas poda

With some celestial glowing maid, etc.] The epithet 3x0uxoros, spousty, the roses display their graces. This is not uninge

which he gives to the nymph, is literally full-bosomed: if this was really Anacreon's taste, the heaven of Mahomet would suit him in every particular. See the Koran, cap. 72.

Then let us never vainly stray,

In search of thorns, from Pleasure's way, etc.] I have thus endea

nious; but we lose by it the beauty of the personification, to the boldness of which Regnier has objected very frivolously.

The murmuring billows of the deep

Have languir h'd into silent sleep, etc.] It has been justly remarked

voured to convey the meaning of τι δε τον βιον πλανωμαι; that the liquid now of the line απαλυνεται γαληνη is perfectly

according to Regnier's paraphrase of the line:

E che val, fuor della strada
Del piacere alma e gradita,
Vaneggiare in questa vita?

expressive of the tranquillity which it describes.

And cultured field, and winding stream, etc.] By Spotwy spy, the works of men, (says Baxter,) he means cities, temples, and

towns, which are then illuminated by the beams of the sun.

As deep as any stripling fair

Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear;
And if, amidst the wanton crew,
I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue,
Thou shalt behold this vigorous hand
Not faltering on the bacchant's wand,
But brandishing a rosy flask,
The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask!

Let those who pant for Glory's charms
Embrace her in the field of arms;
While my inglorious placid soul
Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.
Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,
And bathe me in its honied wave!
For, though my fading years decay,
And though my bloom has pass'd away,
Like old Silenus, sire divine,
With blushes borrow'd from my wine,
I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,
And live my follies all again!

ODE XLIX.

WHEN Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,
The rosy harbinger of joy,

Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,
Thaws the winter of our soul;
When to my inmost core he glides,
And bathes it with his ruby tides,

A flow of joy, a lively heat,

Fires my brain, and wings my feet!
'T is surely something sweet, I think,
Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink!
Sing, sing of love, let Music's breath
Softly beguile our rapturous death,
While, my young Venus, thou and I
To the voluptuous cadence die!
Then waking from our languid trance,
Again we 'll sport, again we 'll dance.

ODE XLVIII.

WHEN my thirsty soul I steep,
Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep.
Talk of monarchs! I am then
Richest, happiest, first of men;
Careless o'er my cup I sing,
Fancy makes me more than king,
Gives me wealthy Croesus' store:
Can I, can I, wish for more?
On my velvet couch reclining,
Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
While my soul dilates with glee,
What are kings and crowns to me?
If before my feet they lay,
I would spurn them all away!
Arm you, arm you, men of might,
Hasten to the sanguine fight;
Let me, oh, my budding vine!
Spill no other blood than thine.
Yonder brimming goblet see,
That alone shall vanquish me;
Oh! I think it sweeter far
To fall in banquet than in war!

But brandishing a rosy flask, etc.] Acx25 was a kind of leathern vessel for wine, very much in use; as should seem by the proverb aoxos xat Judazos, which was applied to those who were intemperate in eating and drinking. This proverb is mentioned in some verses quoted by Athenæus, from the Hesione of Alexis.

The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask! Phornutus assigns as a reason for the consecration of the thyrsus to Bacchus, that inebriety often renders the support of a stick very necessary.

Ivy leaves my brow entwining, etc.] The ivy was consecrated to Bacchus (says Montfaucon), because he formerly lay hid under that tree, or, as others will have it, because its leaves resemble those of the vine. Other reasons for its consecration, and the use of it in garlands at banquets, may be found in Longepierre, Barnes, etc. etc.

Arm you, arm you, men of might,

Hasten to the sanguine fight.] I have adopted the interpretation of Regnier and others:

Altri segua Marte fero;

Cbe sol Bacco è mio conforto.

ODE L.'

WHEN I drink, I feel, I feel

Visions of poetic zeal!

Warm with the goblet's freshening dews,
My heart invokes the heavenly Muse.
When I drink, my sorrow's o'er;

I think of doubts and fears no more;
But scatter to the railing wind
Each gloomy phantom of the mind!
When I drink, the jesting boy,
Bacchus himself, partakes my joy;

This, the preceding ode, and a few more of the same character, are merely chansons à boire. Most likely they were the effusions of the moment of conviviality, and were sung, we imagine, with rapture in Greece; but that interesting association by which they always recalled the convivial emotions that produced them, can be very little felt by the most enthusiastic reader; and much less by a phlegmatic grammarian, who sees nothing in them but dialects and particles. Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,

Thaws the winter of our soul.] Avxtos is the title which he gives to Bacchus in the original. It is a curious circumstance, that Plutarch mistook the name of Levi among the Jews for Aut (one of the bacchanal cries), and accordingly supposed that they worshipped Bacchus.

2 Faber thinks this spurious; but, I believe, he is singular in his opinion. It has all the spirit of our author. Like the wreath which he presented in the dream, it smells of Anacreon.

The form of this ode, in the original, is remarkable. It is a kind of song of seven quatrain stanzas, each beginning with the line

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