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That much I fear, the midnight shower
Has injur'd its elastic power."
The fatal bow the urchin drew;
Swift from the string the arrow flew;
As swiftly flew as glancing flame,
And to my inmost spirit came!
"Fare thee well," I heard him say,
As laughing wild he wing'd away;
"Fare thee well, for now I know
The rain has not relax'd my bow;
It still can send a thrilling dart,

As thou shalt own with all thy heart!"

ODE XXXIV.1

Oн thou, of all creation blest,
Sweet insect, that delight'st to rest
Upon the wild wood's leafy tops.
To drink the dew that morning drops,
And chirp thy song with such a glee,"
That happiest kings may envy thee.
Whatever decks the velvet field,
Whate'er the circling seasons yield,
Whatever buds, whatever blows,
For thee it buds, for thee it grows.
Nor yet art thou the peasant's fear,
To him thy friendly notes are dear;

! In a Latin ode addressed to the grasshopper, Rapin has preserved some of the thoughts of our author :

O quæ virenti graminis in toro,

Cicada, blande sidis, et herbidos
Saltus oberras, otiosos
Ingeniosa ciere cantus.

Seu forte adultis floribus incubas,
Cali caducis ebria fletibus, &c.

Oh thou, that on the grassy bed

Which Nature's vernal hand has spread,
Reclinest soft, and tun'st thy song,
The dewy herbs and leaves among !
Whether thou ly'st on springing flowers,
Drunk with the balmy morning-showers,

Or, &c.

See what Licetus says about grasshoppers, cap. 93. and 185. 2 Awicking thy song with such a glee, &c.] "Some authors have affirmed (says Madame Dacier), that it is only male grasshoppers which sing, and that the females are silent; and on this circumstance is founded a bon-mot of Xenarchus, the comic poet, who κατε, από σωσιν οἱ ταττιγες ουκ ευδαίμονες ἐν ταῖς γυναιξιν ουδ' ότι συν $wong van ; ' are not the grasshoppers happy in having dumb wives?'" Tas note is originally Henry Stephen's; but I chose rather to make a lady my authority for it.

↑ The Mars love thy shrilly tone; &c.] Phile, de Animal. Proprietat, calls this insect Mover ios, the darling of the Muses; and , the bird of the Muses; and we find Plato compared for his eloquence to the grasshopper, in the following punning lines of Timon, preserved by Diogenes Laertius :

Των πάντων δ' ηγείτο πλατύστατος, αλλ' αγορητής
Ηδιστης ταττιξιν ισογράφος, οἱ θ' Εκαδημου
Δενδρες σφαζομενος στα λειριόεσσαν εισε

This last line is borrowed from Homer's Iliad, y, where there ores the very same simile.

4 Matrious insect, chiid of earth,] Longepierre has quoted the two first lines of an epigram of Antipater, from the first book of the Anthologia, where he prefers the grasshopper to the swan :

For thou art mild as matin dew;
And still, when summer's flowery hue
Begins to paint the bloomy plain,
We hear thy sweet prophetic strain;
Thy sweet prophetic strain we hear,
And bless the notes and thee revere!
The Muses love thy shrilly tone;3
Apollo calls thee all his own;
'Twas he who gave that voice to thee,
'Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy.

Unworn by age's dim decline, The fadeless blooms of youth are thine. Melodious insect, child of earth,* In wisdom mirthful, wise in mirth; Exempt from every weak decay, That withers vulgar frames away; With not a drop of blood to stain The current of thy purer vein; So blest an age is pass'd by thee, Thou seem'st a little deity!

ODE XXXV.5

CUPID once upon a bed
Of roses laid his weary head;

Αρκει τέττιγας μεθύσαι δροσος, αλλά πιοντες
Αείδειν κυκνων εισι γεγωνότερος

In dew, that drops from morning's wings,
The gay Cicada sipping floats;
And, drunk with dew, his matin sings
Sweeter than any cygnet's notes.

5 Theocritus has imitated this beautiful ode in his nineteenth idyl but is very inferior, I think, to his original, in delicacy of point and naïveté of expression. Spenser, in one of his smaller compositions, has sported more diffusely on the same subject. The poem to which I allude, begins thus:

Upon a day, as Love lay sweetly slumbering

All in his mother's lap ;

A gentle bee, with his loud trumpet murmuring,
About him flew by hap, &c. &c.

In Almeloveen's collection of epigrams, there is one by Luxorius, correspondent somewhat with the turn of Anacreon, where Love complains to his mother of being wounded by a rose.

The ode before us is the very flower of simplicity. The infantine complainings of the little god, and the natural and impressive reflections which they draw from Venus, are beauties of inimitable grace. I may be pardoned, perhaps, for introducing here another of Menage's Anacreontics, not for its similitude to the subject of this ode, but for some faint traces of the same natural simplicity, which it appears to me to have preserved :

Έρως ποτ' εν χορείαις
Των παρθένων αυτόν,
Την μου φίλην Κορίνναν,
Ως είδεν, ὡς προς αυτήν
Προσέδραμε τραχηλο
Δίδυμος τε χείρας απτών
Φίλες με, μητερ, από
Καλούμενη Κορίννα,
Μήτηρ, ερυθριάζει,
Ως παρθενος μεν ούσα.
Κ' αυτός δε δυσχεραίνων,
Ως όμμασι πλανηθείς,

Luckless urchin, not to see
Within the leaves a slumbering bee;
The bee awak'd-with anger wild
The bee awak'd, and stung the child.
Loud and piteous are his cries;
To Venus quick he runs, he flies;
"Oh mother!-I am wounded through---
I die with pain-in sooth I do!
Stung by some little angry thing,
Some serpent on a tiny wing-
A bee it was-for once, I know,
I heard a rustic call it so."

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, ah, Cupid! be,
The hapless heart that's stung by thee!"

I might, by bribes, my doom delay,
And bid him call some distant day.
But, since, not all earth's golden store
Can buy for us one bright hour more,
Why should we vainly mourn our fate
Or sigh at life's uncertain date?
Nor wealth nor grandeur can illume
The silent midnight of the tomb.
No-give to others hoarded treasures—
Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures;
The goblet rich, the board of friends,
Whose social souls the goblet blends;3
And mine, while yet I've life to live,
Those joys that love alone can give.

ODE XXXVI.

Ir hoarded gold possess'd the 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 hour should swell my store;

That when Death came, with shadowy pinion,
To waft me to his bleak dominion,*

Έρως ερυθριάζει

Εγω, δε οἱ παραστάς,
Μη δυσχεραίνε, φημι,
Κύπριν τε και Κορίνναν.
Διαγνώσαι ουκ έχουσι
Και οι βλέποντες οξύ.

As dancing o'er the enamell'd plain,
The flow'ret of the virgin train,
My soul's Corinna lightly play'd,
Young Cupid saw the graceful maid;
He saw, and in a moment flew,

And round her neck his arms he threw ;
Saying, with smiles of infant joy,
"Oh! kiss me, mother, kiss thy boy!"
Unconscious of a mother's name,
The modest virgin blush'd with shame!
And angry Cupid, scarce believing
That vision could be so deceiving --
Thus to mistake his Cyprian dame!
It made ev'n Cupid blush with shame.
"Be not asham'd, my boy," I cried,
For I was lingering by his side;
"Corinna and thy lovely mother,
Believe me, are so like each other,
That clearest eyes are oft betray'd,
And take thy Venus for the maid."
Zitto, in his Cappriciosi Pensieri, has given a translation of this
ode of Anacreon.

Fontenelle has translated this ode, in his dialogue between Anacreon and Aristotle in the shades, where, on weighing the merits of both these personages, he bestows the prize of wisdom upon the poet.

"The German imitators of this ode are, Lessing, in his poem Gestern Brüder,' &c.; Gleim, in the ode An den Tod;' and Schimdtin der Poet. Blumenl., Gotting. 1783, p. 7."-Degen.

ODE XXXVILA

"Twas night, and many a circling bowl
Had deeply warm'd my thirsty soul;
As lull'd in slumber I was laid,
Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd.
With maidens, blooming as the dawn,
I seem'd to skim the opening lawn;
Light, on tiptoe bath'd in dew,
We flew, and sported as we flew!

Some ruddy striplings who look'd onWith cheeks, that like the wine-god's shone,

2 That when Death came, with shadowy pinion,

To waft me to his bleak dominion, &c.] The commentators, who are so fond of disputing " de lana caprina," have been very busy on the authority of the phrase iv' av barew emekb. The reading of a av Ðavaroç eæen, which De Medenbach proposes in his Amornitates Literariæ, was already hinted by Le Fevre, who seldom suggests anything worth notice.

3 The goblet rich, the board of friends,

Whose social souls the goblet blends;] This communion of friendship, which sweetened the bowl of Anacreon, has not been for gotten by the author of the following scholium, where the blessings of life are enumerated with proverbial simplicity. Yau s άριστον ανδρι θνητῳ. Δευτέρου δε, καλον στην γενεσθαι Тортов πλουτείν αδόλως. Και το τέταρτον συνέθαι 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, sweet intercourse with those we love!

4 "Compare with this ode the beautiful poem 'der Traum' of Uz."-Degen.

Le Fevre, in a note upon this ode, enters into an elaborate and learned justification of drunkenness; and this is probably the cause of the severe reprehension which he appears to have suffered for his Anacreon. "Fuit olim fateor (says he in a note upon Lengi nus), cum Sapphonem amabam. Sed ex quo illa me perditissima fœmina pene miserum perdidit cum sceleratissimo suo congerrone, (Anacreontem dico, si nescis, Lector,) noli sperare," &c. &c. He adduces on this ode the authority of Plato, who allowed ebriety, st 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 hesitate to confess the truth of:

Ουδείς φιλοποτης στην ανθρωπος κακός,

"No lover of drinking was ever a vicious man."

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Saw me chasing, free and wild,
These blooming maids, and slyly smil'd;
Smil'd indeed with wanton glee,

Though none could doubt they envied me.
And still I flew-and now had caught
The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
To gather from each rosy lip

A kiss that Jove himself might sip-
When sudden all my dream of joys,
Blushing nymphs and laughing boys,
All were gone!'-"Alas!" I said,
Sighing for th' illusion fled,

"Again, sweet sleep, that scene restore,
Oh! let me dream it o'er and o'er!"2

ODE XXXVIII.3

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;
The god who taught the sons of earth
To thrid the tangled dance of mirth;
Him, who was nurs'd with infant Love,
And cradled in the Paphian grove;
Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms
So oft has fondled in her arms.
Oh 'tis from him the transport flows,
Which sweet intoxication knows;
With him, the brow forgets its gloom,
And brilliant graces learn to bloom.

Behold!-my boys a goblet bear,
Whose sparkling foam lights up the air.
Where are now the tear, the sigh?
To the winds they fly, they fly!

1 When sudden all my dream of joys,

Blushing nymphs and laughing boys,

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

Εγρόμενος δε

Παρθενον ουκ εκίχησε, και ηθελεν αυθις ιαύειν."

Waking, he lost the phantom's charms,
The nymph had faded from his arms;
Again to slumber he essay'd,
Again to clasp the shadowy maid.

2" Again, sweet sleep, that scene restore,

LONGEPIERRE.

Oh let me dream it o'er and o'er!"] Doctor Johnson, in his Preface to Shakspeare, animadverting upon the commentators of that poet, who pretended, in every little coincidence of thought, to detect an imitation of some ancient poet, alludes in the following weds to the line of Anacreon before us :-"I have been told that When Caliban, after a pleasing dream, says, 'I cried 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 to Bacchus the verses of Hagedorn, lib. v. das Gesellschaftliche;' and of Burger, p. 51, &c. bc."-- Degen.

Him, that the money Queen of Charms

So oft has fondled in her arms.] Robertellus, upon the epithaarhum of Catullus, mentions an ingenious derivation of Cytherea, the name of Venus, Tapa To KENDRIY TOUS EParas, which seems to hint that Love's fairy favours are lost, when not concealed."

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Ραιος ὁ χαιροντων εστί βιος, είτα τα λοιπά
Γηρας κωλύσει, και το τέλος θάνατος.

Of which the following is a paraphrase :-
Let's fly, my love, from noonday's beam,
To plunge us in yon cooling stream;
Then, hastening to the festal bower,
We'll pass in mirth the evening hour;
"Tis thus our age of bliss 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 graceful form,
Will chill the pulse, while throbbing warm;
And death-alas! that hearts, which thrill
Like yours and mine, should e'er be still!

6 Snows may o'er his head be flung,

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 hath sent 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.
Away, then, wizard Care, nor think
Thy fetters round this soul to link;
Never can heart that feels with me
Descend to be a slave to thee!!
And oh! before the vital thrill,
Which trembles at my heart, is still,
I'll gather Joy's luxuriant 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 adorns the dewy scene,
How sweet to walk the velvet green,
And hear the west wind's gentle sighs,
As o'er the scented mead it flies!
How sweet to mark the pouting vine,
Ready to burst in tears of wine;

And with some maid, who breathes but love,
To walk, at noontide, through the grove,3

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 vue.
Fair and young thou 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

When first I set my eyes on thee !

3 Never can heart that feels with me

Descend to be a slave to thee!] Longepierre quotes here an epigram from the Anthologia, on account of the similarity of a particular phrase. Though by no means Anacreontic, it is marked by an interesting simplicity which has induced me to paraphrase it, and may atone for its intrusion.

Ελπις και συ τύχη μέγα χαιρετε. τον λιμεν' εύρον.

Ουδεν έμοι χ' ύμων, παίζετε τους μετ' εμε.

At length to Fortune, and to you,
Delusive Hope! a last adieu.

The charm that once beguil'd is o'er,
And I have reach'd my destin'd 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

2 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, in which he makes him promulgate the precepts of good fellowship even from the tomb.

Or sit in some cool, green recess― Oh, is not this true happiness?

ODE XLII.

YES, be the glorious revel mine,
Where humour sparkles from the wine.
Around me, let the youthful choir
Respond to my enlivening lyre;
And while the red cup foams along,
Mingle in soul as well as song.
Then, while I sit, with flow'rets crown'd,
To regulate the goblet's round,
Let but the nymph, our banquet's pride,
Be seated smiling by my side,
And earth has not a gift or power
That I would envy, in that hour.
Envy! - oh never let its blight
Touch the gay hearts met here to-night.
Far hence be slander's sidelong wounds,
Nor harsh dispute, nor discord's sounds
Disturb a scene, where all should be
Attuned to peace and harmony.

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And does there then remain but this,
And hast thou lost each rosy ray

Of her, who breath'd the soul of bliss,
And stole me from myself away?

4 The character of Anacreon is here very strikingly depicted. His love of social, harmonised pleasures, is expressed with a warmth, amiable and endearing. Among the epizrams imputed to Anacreon is the following; it is the only one worth translation, and it breathes the same sentiments with this ode:

Ου φίλος, ός κρητήρι παρα πλέω οινοποτάζων,
Νείκεα και πολέμου δακρυόεντα λέγει

Αλλ' όστις Μουσεων τε, και αγλαα δωρ' Αφροδίτης
Ευμμισγών, ερατης μνήσκεται ευφροσυνης.

When to the lip the brimming cup is prest,
And hearts are all afloat upon its stream.
Then banish from my board th' unpolish'd guest,
Who makes the feats of war his barbarous theme.
But bring the man, who o'er his goblet wreathes
The Muse's laurel with the Cyprian flower;
Oh! give me him, whose soul expansive breathes
And blends refinement with the social hour.

ODE XLIII.

WHILE our rosy fillets shed

Freshness o'er each fervid head,
With many a cup and many a smile
The festal moments we beguile.
And while the harp, impassion'd, flings
Tuneful raptures from its strings,'
Some airy nymph, with graceful bound,
Keeps measure to the music's sound;
Waving, in her snowy hand,
The leafy Bacchanalian wand,
Which, as the tripping wanton flies,
Trembles all over to her sighs.

A youth the while, with loosen'd hair,
Floating on the listless air,

Sings, to the wild harp's tender tone,
A tale of woes, alas, his own;
And oh, the sadness in his sigh,
As o'er his lip the accents die !2
Never sure on earth has been
Half so bright, so blest a scene.
It seems as Love himself had come
To make this spot his chosen home; 3.
And Venus, too, with all her wiles,
And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles,
All, all are here, to hail with me
The Genius of Festivity!"

ODE XLIV.5

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

6

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, sister Graces,
The wanton winding dance he traces.
Then bring me, showers of roses bring,
And shed them o'er me while I sing,
Or while, great Bacchus, round thy shrine,
Wreathing my brow with rose and vine,
I lead some bright nymph through the dance,"
Commingling soul with every glance.

And while the harp, impassion'd, flings

Tful raptures from its strings, &c.] Respecting the barbiton a host of authorities may be collected, which, after all, leave us igrant of the nature of the instrument. There is scarcely any point upon which we are so totally uninformed as the music of the atients. The authors extant upon the subject are, I imagine, little understood; and certainly if one of their moods was a proCression by quarter-tones, which we are told was the nature of the eharmonic scale, simplicity was by no means the characteristic of their melody; for this is a nicety of progression, of which modern music is not susceptible.

The invention of the barbiton is, by Athenæus, attributed to Anacreon. See his fourth book, where it is called rо ebpηua Tou A. Neanthes of Cyzicus, as quoted by Gyraldus, asserts the same. Vide Chabot, in Horat. on the words "Lesboum barbiton," in the first ode.

2 And oh, the sadness in his sigh,

At o'er his lip the accents die!] Longepierre has quoted here an epigram from the Anthologia :

Κούρη τις μ' εφίλησε ποθέσπερα χείλεσιν ύγρους.
Νέκταρ της το φίλημα, το γαρ στομα νεκταρος επιείκ
Δεν μεθύω το φίλημα, πολυν τον έρωτα πεπωκώς.

Of which the following paraphrase may give some idea :

The kiss that she left on my lip,

Like a dew-drop shall lingering lie;

"Twas nectar she gave me to sip.

"Twas nectar I drank in her sigh.

• Collected by Meibomius.

ODE XLV.

WITHIN this goblet, rich and deep,

I cradle all my woes to sleep.

From the moment she printed that kiss,

Nor reason, nor rest has been mine;
My whole soul has been drunk with the bliss,
And feels a delirium divine l

3 It seems as Love himself had come

To make this spot his chosen home;-] The introduction of these deities to the festival is merely allegorical. Madame Dacier thinks that the poet describes a masquerade, where these deities were personated by the company in masks. The translation will conform with either idea.

4 All, all are here, to hail with me

The Genius of Festivity!] Kapos, the deity or genius of mirth. Philostratus, in the third of his pictures, gives a very lively description of this god.

5 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 Tatius, to which Barnes refers us, the rose is fancifully 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 ode (says the German annotator) the beautiful ode of Uz, die Rose.'"

6 When with the blushing, sister Graces,

The wanton winding dance he traces.] "This sweet idea of Love dancing with the Graces, is almost peculiar to Anacreon."— Degen.

↑ I lead some bright nymph through the dance, &c.] The epithet Babumos, which he gives to the nymph, is literally "full-bosomed."

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