And there, if art so far can go,

Th' ingenuous blush of boyhood show.
While, for his mouth-but no,-in vain
Would worlds its witching charm explain.
Make it the very seat, the throne,

That Eloquence would claim her own; 1
And let the lips, though silent, wear
A life-look, as if words were there. 2

Next thou his ivory neck must trace, Moulded with soft but manly grace; Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy, Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy. Give him the winged Hermes' hand, 3 With which he waves his snaky wand; Let Bacchus the broad chest supply, And Leda's sons the sinewy thigh; While, through his whole transparent frame, Thou show'st the stirrings of that flame, Which kindles, when the first love-sigh Steals from the heart, unconscious why.

But sure thy pencil, though so bright, Is envious of the eye's delight, Or its enamour'd touch would show The shoulder, fair as sunless snow,

1 That Eloquence would claim her own ;] In the original, as in the preceding ode, Pitho, the goddess of persuasion, or eloquence. It was worthy of the delicate imagination of the Greeks to deify Persuasion, and give her the lips for her throne. We are here reminded of a very interesting fragment of Anacreon, preserved by the scholiast upon Pindar, and supposed to belong to a poem reflecting with some severity on Simonides, who was the first, we are told, that ever made a hireling of his muse:

Ουδ' αργυρέη ποτ' έλαμψε Πείθουν
Nor yet had fair Persuasion shone
In silver splendours, not her own.

2 And let the lips, though silent, wear

A life-look, as if words were there.] In the original CITY. The mistress of Petrarch "parla con silenzio," which is perhaps the best method of female eloquence.

3 Give him the winged Hermes' hand, &c.] In Shakspeare's Cymbeline there is a similar method of description: this is his hand,

His foot mercurial, his martial thigh,

The brawns of Hercules.

I see the sun-god's portrait there;] The abrupt turn here is spirited, but requires some explanation. While the artist is pursuing the portrait of Bathyllus, Anacreon, we must suppose, turns round and sees a picture of Apollo, which was intended for an altar at Samos. He then instantly tells the painter to cease his work; that this picture will serve for Bathyllus; and that, when he goes to Samos, he may make an Apollo of the portrait of the boy which he had begun.

Which now in veiling shadow lies,
Remov'd from all but Fancy's eyes.
Now, for his feet-but hold-forbear-
I see the sun-god's portrait there; +
Why paint Bathyllus? when, in truth,
There, in that god, thou'st sketch'd the youth.
Enough-let this bright form be mine,
And send the boy to Samos' shrine;
Phœbus shall then Bathyllus be,
Bathyllus then, the deity!

ODE XVIII. 5

Now the star of day is high,
Fly, my girls, in pity fly,

Bring me wine in brimming urns, 6
Cool my lip, it burns, it burns!
Sunn'd by the meridian fire,
Panting, languid I expire.

Give me all those humid flowers, 7 Drop them o'er my brow in showers. Scarce a breathing chaplet now Lives upon my feverish brow;

Bathyllus (says Madame Dacier) could not be more elegantly praised, and this one passage does him more honour than the statue, however beautiful it might be, which Polycrates raised to him."

5 An elegant translation of this ode, says Degen, may be found in Ramler's Lyr. Blumenlese, lib. v. p. 403.

6 Bring me wine in brimming urns, &c.] Orig. ILIY MJAUSTI. The amystis was a method of drinking used among the Thracians. Thus Horace, "Threicia vincat amystide." Mad. Dacier, Longepierre, &c. &c.

Parrhasius, in his twenty-sixth epistle (Thesaur. Critic. vol. i.), explains the amystis as a draught to be exhausted without drawing breath, "uno haustu." A note in the margin of this epistle of Parrhasius says, "Politianus vestem esse putabat," but adds no reference.

7 Give me all those humid flowers, &c.] According to the original reading of this line, the poet says, "Give me the flower of wine "-Date flosculos Lyæi, as it is in the version of Elias Andreas; and

Εσβέσθης γεραιός Σοφοκλιες, ανθος αφίδων

and flos in the Latin is frequently applied in the same manner -thus Cethegus is called by Ennius, Flos inlibatus populi, suadæque medulla, "The immaculate flower of the people, and the very marrow of persuasion." See these verses cited by Aulus Gellius, lib. xii., which Cicero praised, and Seneca thought ridiculous.

But in the passage before us, if we admit sztivy, according to Faber's conjecture, the sense is sufficiently clear, without having recourse to such refinements.

Every dewy rose I wear
Sheds its tears, and withers there. 1
But to you, my burning heart, 2
What can now relief impart?

Can brimming bowl, or flowret's dew,
Cool the flame that scorches you?

Sweet the little founts that weep,
Lulling soft the mind to sleep;
Hark! they whisper as they roll,
Calm persuasion to the soul;
Tell me, tell me, is not this
All a stilly scene of bliss?
Who, my girl, would pass it by?
Surely neither you nor I. 5

ODE XIX.3

HERE recline you, gentle maid, 4 Sweet is this embowering shade ; Sweet the young, the modest trees, Ruffled by the kissing breeze;

1 Every dewy rose I wear

Sheds its tears, and withers there.] There are some beautiful lines, by Angerianus, upon a garland, which I cannot resist quoting here:

Ante fores madidæ sic sic pendete corollæ,
Mane orto imponet Cælia vos capiti ;

At quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor,
Dicite, non roris sed pluvia hæc lacrimæ.

By Celia's arbour all the night

Hang, humid wreath, the lover's vow;

And haply, at the morning light,

My love shall twine thee round her brow.

Then, if upon her bosom bright

Some drops of dew shall fall from thee,
Tell her, they are not drops of night,

But tears of sorrow shed by me!

In the poem of Mr. Sheridan's, "Uncouth is this mosscovered grotto of stone," there is an idea very singularly coincident with this of Angerianus: —

And thou, stony grot, in thy arch may'st preserve
Some lingering drops of the night-fallen dew;

Let them fall on her bosom of snow, and they'll serve
As tears of my sorrow entrusted to you.

But to you, my burning heart, &c.] The transition here is peculiarly delicate and impassioned; but the commentators have perplexed the sentiment by a variety of readings and conjectures.

The description of this bower is so natural and animated, that we almost feel a degree of coolness and freshness while we peruse it. Longepierre has quoted from the first book of the Anthologia, the following epigram, as somewhat resembling this ode:

Έρχες και κατ' εμαν ίζευ πιτυν, ά το μελιχρον
Προς μαλακούς ήχει κεκλιμένα ζέφυρους.
Ηνίδι και κρουνισμα μελισταγές, ενθα μελισσων
Η δυν ερημαίοις VSTVOY αγω καλαμοίς.
Come, sit by the shadowy pine

That covers my sylvan retreat ;
And see how the branches incline

The breathing of zephyr to meet.
See the fountain that, flowing, diffuses
Around me a glittering spray;
By its brink, as the traveller muses,
I soothe him to sleep with my lay.

4 Here recline you, gentle maid, &c.] The Vatican MS. reads Babuliw, which renders the whole poem metaphorical. Some commentator suggests the reading of Babuλλov, which makes a pun upon the name; a grace that Plato himself has condescended to in writing of his boy Arng. See the epigram of this philosopher, which I quote on the twenty-second ode.

ODE XX. 6

ONE day the Muses twin'd the hands Of infant Love with flow'ry bands;

There is another epigram by this philosopher, preserved in Laertius, which turns upon the same word.

Αστης πριν μεν έλαμπες ενι ζωοισιν έπος

Νυν δε θανων λαμπεις έσπερος εν φθιμένοις.

In life thou wert my morning star,

But now that death has stol'n thy light,
Alas! thou shinest dim and far,

Like the pale beam that weeps at night.

In the Veneres Blyenburgicæ, under the head of "Allusiones," we find a number of such frigid conceits upon names, selected from the poets of the middle ages.

5 Who, my girl, would pass it by ?

Surely neither you nor I.] The finish given to the picture by this simple exclamation τις αν ουν όρων παρελθοι, is inimitable. Yet a French translator says on the passage, "This conclusion appeared to me too trifling after such a description, and I thought proper to add somewhat to the strength of the original.”

6 The poet appears, in this graceful allegory, to describe the softening influence which poetry holds over the mind, in making it peculiarly susceptible to the impressions of beauty. In the following epigram, however, by the philosopher Plato, (Diog. Laert. lib. 3.) the Muses are represented as disavowing the influence of Love.

'Α Κύπρις Μουσαίσι, κορασία, την Αφροδίταν
Τιματ', η τον Ερωτα ύμμιν εφοπλίσομαι.

Αἱ Μούσαι ποτι Κυπρίν, Αρει τα στωμυλα ταυτα
Ήμιν ου πέταται τούτο το παιδάριον.

"Yield to my gentle power, Parnassian maids;"

Thus to the Muses spoke the Queen of Charms — "Or Love shall flutter through your classic shades,

And make your grove the camp of Paphian arms!" "No," said the virgins of the tuneful bower,

"We scorn thine own and all thy urchin's art; Though Mars has trembled at the infant's power, His shaft is pointless o'er a Muse's heart!"

There is a sonnet by Benedetto Guidi, the thought of which was suggested by this ode.

Scherzava dentro all' auree chiome Amore
Dell' alma donna della vita mia:

E tanta era il piacer ch' ei ne sentia,
Che non sapea, nè volea uscirne fore.
Quando ecco ivi annodar si sente il core,
Si, che per forza ancor convien che stia:
Tai lacci alta beltate orditi avia

Del crespo crin, per farsi eterno onore.
Onde offre infin dal ciel degna mercede,
A chi scioglie il figliuol la bella dea
Da tanti nodi, in ch' ella stretto il vede.

And to celestial Beauty gave
The captive infant for her slave.
His mother comes, with many a toy,
To ransom her beloved boy;1
His mother sues, but all in vain,—
He ne'er will leave his chains again.
Even should they take his chains away,
The little captive still would stay.
"If this," he cries, 66 a bondage be,
Oh, who could wish for liberty?"

The vapours, which at evening weep,
Are beverage to the swelling deep;
And when the rosy sun appears,
He drinks the ocean's misty tears.
The moon too quaffs her paly stream

Of lustre, from the solar beam.

Then, hence with all your sober thinking! Since Nature's holy law is drinking;

I'll make the laws of nature mine,

And pledge the universe in wine.

ODE XXI.2

OBSERVE when mother earth is dry,
She drinks the droppings of the sky,
And then the dewy cordial gives
To ev'ry thirsty plant that lives.

Ma ei vinto a due occhi l'arme cede:
Et t'affatichi indarno, Citerea;
Che s' altri 'l scioglie, egli a legar si riede.
Love, wandering through the golden maze
Of my beloved's hair,

Found, at each step, such sweet delays,

That rapt he linger'd there.

And how, indeed, was Love to fly,
Or how his freedom find,

When every ringlet was a tie,

A chain, by Beauty twin'd.

In vain to seek her boy's release
Comes Venus from above:

Fond mother, let thy efforts cease,

Love's now the slave of Love.

And, should we loose his golden chain,

The prisoner would return again!

1 His mother comes, with many a toy,

To ransom her beloved boy ; &c.] In the first idyl of Moschus, Venus thus proclaims the reward for her fugitive child:

Ο μανετας γέρας έξει,

Μισθος του, το φίλαμα το Κυπριδος ην δ' αγάγης νιν Ου γυμνον το φίλαμα, το δ', ω ξενε, και πλέον έξεις. On him, who the haunts of my Cupid can show, A kiss of the tenderest stamp I'll bestow; But he, who can bring back the urchin in chains, Shall receive even something more sweet for his pains. Subjoined to this ode, we find in the Vatican MS. the following lines, which appear to me to boast as little sense as metre, and which are most probably the interpolation of the transcriber:

Ηδύμελης Ανακρέων Ηδύμελης δε Σατρα Πινδαρικον το δε μοι μέλος

Συγκέρασας τις εγχει

Τα τρία ταυτα μοι δοκεί

Και Διονυσος εισέλθουν

Και Παρίη παραχρούς

Και αυτος Έρως και επιειν.

2 Those critics who have endeavoured to throw the chains of precision over the spirit of this beautiful trifle, require too much from Anacreontic philosophy. Among others, Gail very sapiently thinks that the poet uses the epithet λan,

ODE XXII.

THE Phrygian rock, that braves the storm,
Was once a weeping matron's form; 3
And Progue, hapless, frantic maid,

Is now a swallow in the shade.

because black earth absorbs moisture more quickly than any other; and accordingly he indulges us with an experimental disquisition on the subject. See Gail's notes.

One of the Capilupi has imitated this ode, in an epitaph on a drunkard:

Dum vixi sine fine bibi, sic imbrifer arcus
Sic tellus pluvias sole perusta bibit.
Sic bibit assiduè fontes et flumina Pontus,
Sic semper sitiens Sol maris haurit aquas.
Ne te igitur jactes plus me, Silene, bibisse;
Et mihi da victas tu quoque, Bacche, manus.

HIPPOLYTUS CAPILUPUS.

While life was mine, the little hour
In drinking still unvaried flew;

I drank as earth imbibes the shower,

Or as the rainbow drinks the dew;

As ocean quaffs the rivers up,

Or flushing sun inhales the sea:
Silenus trembled at my cup,

And Bacchus was outdone by me!

I cannot omit citing those remarkable lines of Shakspeare, where the thoughts of the ode before us are preserved with such striking similitude:

I'll example you with thievery.
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea. The moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The mounds into salt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds, and breeds by a composture stol'n
From general excrements.

Timon of Athens, act iv. sc. 3.

a weeping matron's form;] Niobe. Ogilvie, in his Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients, in remarking upon the Odes of Anacreon, says, “In some of his pieces there is exuberance and even wildness of imagination; in that particularly, which is addressed to a young girl, where he wishes alternately to be transformed to a mirror, a coat, a stream, a bracelet, and a pair of shoes, for the different purposes which he recites: this is mere sport and wantonness."

It is the wantonness, however, of a very graceful Muse; "ludit amabiliter." The compliment of this ode is exquisitely delicate, and so singular for the period in which Anacreon lived, when the scale of love had not yet been graduated into

Oh! that a mirror's form were mine,
That I might catch that smile divine;
And like my own fond fancy be,
Reflecting thee, and only thee;
Or could I be the robe which holds
That graceful form within its folds;
Or, turn'd into a fountain, lave
Thy beauties in my circling wave.
Would I were perfume for thy hair,
To breathe my soul in fragrance there;
Or, better still, the zone, that lies
Close to thy breast, and feels its sighs!!
Or ev❜n those envious pearls that show
So faintly round that neck of snow —
Yes, I would be a happy gem,
Like them to hang, to fade like them.
What more would thy Anacreon be?
Oh, any thing that touches thee;

all its little progressive refinements, that if we were inclined to question the authenticity of the poem, we should find a much more plausible argument in the features of modern gallantry which it bears, than in any of those fastidious conjectures upon which some commentators have presumed so far. Degen thinks it spurious, and De Pauw pronounces it to be miserable. Longepierre and Barnes refer us to several imitations of this ode, from which I shall only select the following epigram of Dionysius:—

Είθ' ανέμος γενόμην, συ δε γε στείχουσα παρ' αυγας,
Στηθεα γυμνασαις, και με πνέοντα λάβοις.
Είθε ρόδον γενομην ὑποπορφυρον, αέρα με χερσιν
Αραμένη, κομισεις στεθεσε χιονίοις.

Είθε κρινον γενομην λευκοχροον, αέρα με χερσιν
Αραμένη, μαλλον της χρονιας κορέσης.

I wish I could like zephyr steal
To wanton o'er thy mazy vest;

And thou wouldst ope thy bosom-veil,
And take me panting to thy breast!

I wish I might a rose-bud grow,

And thou wouldst cull me from the bower,

To place me on that breast of snow,
Where I should bloom, a wintry flower.

I wish I were the lily's leaf,

To fade upon that bosom warm,
Content to wither, pale and brief,

The trophy of thy fairer form!

I may add, that Plato has expressed as fanciful a wish in a distich preserved by Laertius:

Αστέρας εισάθρεις. Αστηρ εμος. είθε γενοίμην
Ουρανος, ὡς πολλοις ομμασιν εις σε βλέπω.

TO STELLA.

Why dost thou gaze upon the sky?

Oh! that I were that spangled sphere,
And every star should be an eye,

To wonder on thy beauties here!

Apuleius quotes this epigram of the divine philosopher, to justify himself for his verses on Critias and Charinus. See his Apology, where he also adduces the example of Anacreon; Fecere tamen et alii talia, et si vos ignoratis, apud Græcos Teius quidam, &c. &c."

1 Or, better still, the zone, that lies,

Close to thy breast, and feels its sighs!] This raw was a riband, or band, called by the Romans fascia and strophium,

Nay, sandals for those airy feetEv'n to be trod by them were sweet! 2

ODE XXIII.3

I OFTEN wish this languid lyre,
This warbler of my soul's desire,
Could raise the breath of song sublime,
To men of fame, in former time.
But when the soaring theme I try,
Along the chords my numbers die,
And whisper, with dissolving tone,
"Our sighs are given to love alone!"
Indignant at the feeble lay,

I tore the panting chords away,
Attun'd them to a nobler swell,

And struck again the breathing shell;

which the women wore for the purpose of restraining the exuberance of the bosom. Vide Polluc. Onomast. Thus Martial:

Fascia crescentes dominæ compesce papillas.

The women of Greece not only wore this zone, but condemned themselves to fasting, and made use of certain drugs and powders for the same purpose. To these expedients they were compelled, in consequence of their inelegant fashion of compressing the waist into a very narrow compass, which necessarily caused an excessive tumidity in the bosom. See Dioscorides, lib. v.

2 Nay, sandals for those airy feet -

Ev'n to be trod by them were sweet!] The sophist Philostratus, in one of his love-letters, has borrowed this thought; ω άδετοι πόδες, ο καλλος ελεύθερος, οι τρισευδαίμων εγω και μακαριος σαν πατήσετε με. - " Oh lovely feet ! oh excellent beauty! oh! thrice happy and blessed should I be, if you would but tread on me!" In Shakspeare, Romeo desires to be a glove:

Oh! that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might kiss that cheek!

And, in his Passionate Pilgrim, we meet with an idea somewhat like that of the thirteenth line:

He, spying her, bounc'd in, where as he stood,
"O Jove!" quoth she, "why was not I a flood?"

In Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, that whimsical farrago of "all such reading as was never read," we find a translation of this ode made before 1632." Englished by Mr. B. Holiday, in his Technog. act i. scene 7."

3 According to the order in which the odes are usually placed, this (Ayu Arguidas) forms the first of the series; and is thought to be peculiarly designed as an introduction to the rest. It however characterises the genius of the Teian but very inadequately, as wine, the burden of his lays, is not even mentioned in it: