I caught the boy, a goblet's tide
Was richly mantling by my side,
I caught him by his downy wing,
And whelm'd him in the racy spring.
Oh! then I drank the poison'd bowl,
And Love now nestles in my soul !
Yes, yes, my soul is Cupid's nest,
I feel him fluttering in my breast.

That still as death approches nearer,
The joys of life are sweeter, dearer;
And had I but an hour to live,
That little hour to bliss I'd give!

The women tell me every day
That all my bloom has past away,
• Behold,, the pretty wantons cry,
• Behold this mirror with a sigh ; .
The locks upon thy brow are few,
And, like the rest, they're withering too?.
Whether decline has thinn'd my hair,
I'm sure I neither know nor care ;
But this I know, and this I feel,
As onward to the tomb I steal,

I CARE not for the idle state
Of Persia's king, the rich, the great!
I envy not the monarch's throne,
Nor wish the treasured gold my own.
But oh! be mine the rosy braid,
The fervour of my brows to shade;
Be mine the odours, richly sighing,
Amidst my hoary tresses flying.
To-day I'll haste to quaff my wine,
As if to-morrow ne'er should shine;
But if to-morrow comes, why then-
I'll haste to quaff my wine again.
And thus while all our days are bright,
Nor time has dimm'd their bloomy light,
Let us the festal hours beguile
With mantling cap and cordial smile;

Ecce rosas inter latitantem invenit amorem

Et simul annexis foribus implicuit.
Luciatur primo, et contra nitentibus alis

Indomitus tentat solvere vincla puer,
Mor ubi lacteolas et dignas matre papillas

Vidit et ora ipsos nota movere Deos.
Impositosque comæ ambrosios ut sentit odores

Quosque legit diti messe beatus Arabs;
• 1 (dixit) mea, quære novum tibi mater amorem,

Imperio sedes hæc erit apta meo.
As fair Hyella, through the bloomy grove,
A wreath of many mingled flow'reis wove,
Within a rose a sleeping love she found,
And in the twisted wreaths the baby bound.
Awhile he struggled, and impatient tried
To break the rosy bonds the virgin tied ;
But when he saw her bosom's milky swell,
Her features, where the eye of Jove might dwell;
And caught the ambrosial odours of her hair,
Rich as the breathings of Arabian air;

Oh! mother Venus - (said the raptured child
By charms, of more than mortal bloom, beguile),

Go, seek anotber boy, thou 'st lost thine owa,

Hyella's bosom sball bo Cupid's thrope!,
This epigram of Naugerius is imitated by Lodovico Dolce, in a
po m beginning

Montre raccoglie bor uno, hor altro fiore
Vicina a un rio di chiare et lacid' onde,

Lidia, etc. etc.
Alberti bas imitated this ode, in a poem beginning

Nisa mi dice e Clori

Tirsi, tu se' pur veglio. Whether decline has thinu'd my hair,

I'm sure I neither kn»w nor care.) Henry Stepben very justly remarks the elegant negligence of expression in the original here:

Εγω δε τας κoμας μεν
Ειτ’ εισιν, ειταπηλθον

Ουκ' οιδα.
And Loncepierre has adduced from Catullus what he thinks a simi-
lar instance of this simplicity of manner:

Ipse quis sit, atrum sit, an non sit, id quoque nescit. Longepierre was a good critic, bat perbaps the line which he has selected is a specimen of a carelessness not very elegant; at the same time I confess, that none of tbe Latin poets have ever appeared to me so capable of imitating the graces of Anacreon as Catullus, if he had not allowed a depraved imagination to hurry him so often into vulgar licentiousness.

That still as death approaches nearer,

The joys of life are sweeter, dearer.) Pontapus has a very delicate thought upon the subject of old age:

Quid rides, Matrona ? senem quid temnis amantem?
Quisquis amat nulla est conditione sener.

Why do you scorn my want of youth,

And with a smile my brow behold?
Lady, dear! believe this truth

That be who loves cannot be old.
• The German poet Lessing has imitated this ode. Vol. I, p. 24..
-Degen. Gail de Editionibus.

Baxter conjectures that this was written upon the occasion of our poet's returning the money to Policrates, according to the anecdote in Stobæus.

I care not for the idle slate

Of Persia's king, etc.) · There is a fragment of Archilochas in
Plutarcb, 'De tranquillitate animi,' which our poet has very closely
initated here : it begins,
Ου μοι τα Γυγέω του πολυχρυσου μελει.»-ΒΑΑΝΣΗ.
la one of the monkish imitators of Anacreon we find the same thought.

Ψυχην εμην έρωτώ, ,
Τι σοι θελεις γενεσθαι ;

Θελεις Γυγέω, τα και τα;
Be mine the odours, richly sighing,

Amidst my hoary tresses flying.) In the original, ju polol XATAβρεχειν υπηνην. . On account of this idea of perfuming the beard, Cornelius de Pauw pronounces the wbolo ode to be the spurious production of some lascivious monk, who was pursing his beant with unguents. But he should bave known that this was an ancient eastern custom, which, if we may believe Savary, still exists : « Vous voyez, Monsieur (says this traveller), que l'usage antique de so parfumer la tête et la barbe, (a) célébré par le prophète roi, subsiste encore de nos jours.»-Lettre 12. Savary likewise cites this very ode of Anacreon. Angerianus has not tbought the idea inconsistent -he bas introduced it in the following lines :

Hæc mihi cura, rosis et cingere tempora myrto,

Et curas multo dilapidare mero.
Hæc mihi cura, comas et barbam tingere succo

Assyrio et dulces continuare jocos.
This be my care, to twine the rosy wreath,

And drench my sorrows in the ample bowl ;
To let my beard the Assyrian unguent breathe,

And give a loose to levity of soul !
(a) • Sient unguentum in capite quod descendit in barvam Aaron.-
Psaume 133..

And shed from every bowl of wine

1 Or, as Tereus did of old The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine!

(So the fabled tale is told),
For death may come with brow unpleasant,

Shall I tear that tongue away,
May come when least we wish him present,

Tongue that utter'd such a lay?
And beckon to the sable shore,

How unthinking hast thou been!
And grimly bid us—drink no more!

Long before the dawn was seen,
When I slumber'd in a dream,

(Love was the delicious theme!)

Just when I was nearly blest,

Ah! thy matin broke my rest!
I PRAY thce, by the gods above,
Give me the mighty bowl I love,
And let me sing, in wild delight,
• I will-I will be mad to-night!.

Alemæon once, as legends tell,

• Tell me, gentle youth, I pray thee,
Was frenzied by the fiends of hell;

What in purchase shall I pay

Orestes too, with naked tread,

For this little waxen toy,
Frantic paced the mountain head;

Image of the Paphian boy?»
And why!-a murder'd mother's shade

Thus I said, the other day,
Before their conscious fancy play'd;

To a youth who pass'd my way.
But I can ne'er a murderer he,

Sir,- (he answer'd, and the while
alone shall bleed by me;

Answer'd all in Doric style,)
Yet can I rave, in wild delight,

Take it, for a trifle take it;
« I will-I will be mad to-night.»

Think not yet that I could make it;
The son of Jove, in days of yore

Pray believe it was not I;
Imbrued his hands in youthful gore,

No-it cost me many a sigh,
And brandish'd, with a maniac joy,

And I can no longer keep
The quiver of the expiring boy:

Litde gods who murder sleep!. And Ajax, with tremendous shield,

• Here, then, here, » I said, with joy, Infuriate scour'd the guiltless field.

Here is silver for the boy: But I, whose hands no quiver hold,

He shall be my bosom guest, No weapon but this flask of gold,

Idol of my pious breast !, The trophy of whose frantic hours

Little Love! thou now art mine, Is but a scatter'd wreath of flowers;

Warm me with that torch of thine;
Yet, yet can sing with wild delight,

Make me feel as I have felt,
I will— I will be mad 10-night!,

Or thy waxen frame shall melt.
I must burn in warm desire,

Or thou, my boy, in yonder fire!
ODE X. '
Tell me how to punish thee,

For the mischief done to me!
Silly swallow! prating thing,

Taey tell how Atys, wild with love,
Shall I clip that wheeling wing?

Roams the mount and haunted grove;

If in prating from morning till night, • The poet here is in a frenzy of enjoyment, and it is, indeed,

A sign of our wisdom there be, • amabilis insania..

The swallows are wiser by right,
Furor di poesia,

For ihes pratile much faster than we.
Di lascivia, e di vino,

Or, as Tereus did of old, etc.) Modern poetry bas confirmed the
Triplicato furore,

name of Philomel upon tbe a ightingale; but many very respectable Bacco, Apollo, et Amore.

ancients assigned this metamorpbosis to Progne, and made Philomei Ritratto del Cavalier Marino.

ibe swallow, as Anacreon does bere. Tbis is, as Scaliger expresses it,

"It is difficult to preserre with any crace the narrative simplicity

of this ode, and the bumour of tbe turn with wbich it concludes. I -Insanire dulce, Et sa pidum furere furorem.

feel that the translation must appear very rapid, if not ludicrous, to

an English reader. - This ode is addressed to a swallow. I find, from Degen and from

And I can no longer keep Gail's index, that the German poet Weisse has imitated it, Scberz. Leider. lib. ii, carm. 5; tbat Ramler also has imitated it, Lyr. Blu- epithet Turto Exte; if it has any meaning here, it is one, per

Line gods who murder sleep! I have not literally rendered the menlese, lib, iv, p. 335; and some others.-See Gail de Editionibus.

better omitted. We are referred by Degen to that stupid book, the Epistles of Al

I must burn in warm desire, ciphron, teath epistle, tbird book; where Iophon complains to Eraston of being wakened, by the crowing of a cock, from his vision of Or thow, my boy, in yonder fore!) Mopsiear Longepierre conjectures riches.

from this, that whatever Anacreou might say, be sometimes felt the

inconveniences of old age, and here solicits from the power of Love Silly swallow ! prating thing,'etc.) Tho loquacity of the swallow

a warmth which be could no longer expect from Nature. was proverbialized: tbus Nicoetratus

They tell how Alys, wild with love, Ει το συνεχως και πολλα και ταχεως λαλειν Rooms the mount and haunted yrore.] There are many contradicΗν του φρονείν παρασημον, αι χελιδονες

tory stories of the loves of Cybele and Atys. It is certain that he was

mutilated, but whether by his own fury, or ber jealousy, is a point Ελεγοντ' αν ήμων σωφρονεςεραι πολυ.

wbich aathors are not agreed upon.



Cybele's name he howls around,

Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear,
The gloomy blast returns the sound!

And, like Pelides, smiled at fear.
Oft too by Claros' hallow'd spring,

Then (hear it, all you Powers above !)
The votaries of the laurelld king

I fought with Love! I fought with Love!
Quaff the inspiring magic stream,

And now his arrows all were shed-
And rave in wild prophetic dream.

And I had just in terror fled-
But phrensied dreams are not for me,

When, heaving an indignant sigh,
Great Bacchus is my deity!

To see me thus unwounded fly,
Full of mirth, and full of him,

And having now no other dart,
While waves of perfume round me swim,

He glanced himself into my heart !
While flavour'd bowls are full supplied,

My heart—alas the luckless day!
And you sit blushing by my side,

Received the god, and died away.
I will be mad and raving too

Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield !
Mad, my girl! with love for you!

Thy lord at length was forced to yield.
Vain, vain is every outward care,

My foe's within, and triumphs there.
I WILL, I will; the conflict's past,
And I'll consent to love at last.

Cupid has long, with smiling art,

Count me, on the summer trees,
Invited me to yield my heart;

Every leaf that courts the brecze;
And I have thought that peace of mind
Should not be for a smile resign'd;

Larossi Amore in quel vicino fiumo
And I've repelld the tender lure,

Ove giuro (Pastor) che bevend 'io

Bevei le fiaiome, anzi l'istesso Dio,
And hoped my heart should sleep secure.

C'hor con l'humide piame
But slighted in his boasted charms,

Lascivetto mi scherza al cor intorno.
The angry infant flew to arms;

Ma che sarei s' io lo bevessi un giorno,
He slung his quiver's golden frame

Bacco, nel tuo liquore !

Sarei, piu che non sono ebro d'Amore.
He took his bow, his shafts of flame,

The archin of the bow and quiver
And proudly summon'd me to yield,

Was bathing in a neighbouring rivor,
Or meet him on the martial field.

Where, as I drank on yester-eve
And what did I unthinking do?

(Shepherd-youth! the tale believe),
I took to arms, undaunted too :-

'T was not a cooling crystal draught,
'T was liquid Name I madly quaffd;

For Love was in the rippling tide,
Cybele's names he howls around, etc.) I have adopted the accentu-

I felt him to my bosom glide; ation wbich Elias Andreas gives to Cybele :

And now the wily wanton minion
In montibus Cybelen

Plays o'er my heart with restless pinion.
Magno sonans boatu.

This was a day of fatal star,

But were it not more fatal far, Oft too by Claros' hallow'd spring, etc.) This fountain was in a

If, Bacchus, in thy cup of fire, grove, consecrated to Apollo, and situated between Colophon and

I found this fluttering, young desire ! Lebedos, in lonia. The god bad an oracle thero.-Scaliger has thus

Then, then indeed my soul should provo alluded to it in bis Anacreontica:

Much more than ever, drunk with love!
Semel ut concitas estro,

And having now no other dart,
Veluti qui Clarias aquas

He glanced himself into my heart! Dryden has parodied this
Ebibere loquaces,

thought in the following extravagant lines : Quo plus canunt, plura volunt.

--I'm all o'er Love; While waves of perfume, etc.) Spaletti has mistaken the import of

Nay, I am Love; Love shot, and shot so fast, xopeo 0:15, as applied to the poet's mistress : . Mea fatigatus ami

He sbot bimself into my breast at last. ca.: He interprets it in a sense which must want either delicacy or gallantry.

"The poet, in this catalogue of his mistresses means nothing

more than, by a lively byperbole, to tell us that his heart, unfettered And what did I unthinking do?

by any one object, was warm with devotion towards the sex in geneI took to arms, undaunted too.) Longepierre has quoted an epigram ral. Cowley is indebted to this ode for the hint of his ballad, called from the Apthologia, in which the poet assumes Reason as the ar- • The Chronicle ;. and the learned Monsieur Menage bas imitated it mour against Love.

in a Greek Anacreontic, which bas so much ease and spirit, that the

reader may not be displeased at sceing it here: Ωπλισμαι προς ερωτα περι σερνοισι λογισμoν, Ουδε με νικησει, μονος εων προς ένα.

Προς Βιωνα. . Θνατος δ' αθανατω συνελεύσομαι: ην δε βοηθον

Ει αλσεων τα φυλλα, ,
Βακχον εχη, τι μονος προς δυ' εγω δυναμαι;

Λειμωνιους τε ποιας, ,
With Reason I cover my breast as a sbield,

Ει νυκτος ας ρα παντα, ,
And fearlessly weet little Love in the field;

Παράκτιους τε ψαμμους, ,
Tbus fighting bis godship, I 'll ne'er be dismay'd ;

“Aλος τε κυματωση,
But if Bacchus should ever advance to his aid,
Alas! tben, unable to combat the two,

Δυνη, Βιων, αριθμειν,
Unfortunate warrior! what should I do?

Και τους εμους έρωτας
This idea of the irresistibility of Capid and Bacchus united, is de-

Δυνη, Βιων, αριθμειν. licately expressed in an Italian poem, wbich is so very Anacreontic, that I may be pardoned for introducing it. Indeed, it is an imita

Κορην, Γυναικα, Χηραν, tion of our poet's sixth ode.

Σμικρης, Μεσην, Μεγισης,

Count me, on the foamy deep,

There indeed are girls divine, Every wave that sinks to sleep;

Dangerous to a soul like mine; Then, when you have number'd these

Many bloom in Lesbos' isle ; Billowy tides and leafy trees,

Many in lonia smile; Count me all the flames I prove,

Rhodes a pretty swarm can boast; All the gentle nymphs I love.

Caria too contains a host. First, of pure Athenian maids,

Sum these all-of brown and fair Sporting in their olive shades,

You may count two thousand there! You may reckon just a score;

What, you gaze! I pray you, peace! Nay, I 'll grant you fifteen more.

More I 'll find before I cease. In the sweet Corinthian grove,

Have I told you all my flames Where the glowing wantons rove,

'Mong the amorous Syrian dames ? Chains of beauty may be found,

Have I number'd every one
Chains by which my heart is bound;

Glowing under Egypt's sun?
Λευκην τε και Μελαιναν, ,

Or the nymphs who, blushing sweet,
Ορειαδας, Ναπαιας,

Deck the shrine of love in Crete;
Νηρηίδας τε πασας

Where the god, with festal play,
“Ο σος φιλος φιλησε.

Holds eternal holiday?
Παντων κορος μεν εςιν.

Still in clusters, still remain
Αυτην νεων Ερωτων,

Gades' warm desiring train;

Still there lies a myriad more
Δεσποιναν Αφροδιτης, ,

On the sable India's shore;
Χρυσην, καλην, γλυκειαν,

These, and many far removed,
Ερασμιου, ποθεινην,

All are loving—all are loved !
Λει μονην φιλησαι

Εγωγε μη δυναιμην. .
Tell the foliage of the woods,

Tell the billows of tbe floods,
Number midnigbt's starry store,

· Tell me why, my sweetest dove,
And the sands that crowd the shore;

Thus your humid pinions move,
Then, my Bion, thou mayst count
Of my loves the vast amount !

Shedding through the air, in showers,
I've been loving, all my days,

Essence of the balmiest flowers ?
Many nymphs, in many ways,
Virgin, widow, maid, and wife-

principally worshipped by the people, and prostitution in her temple I've been doting all my life.

was a meritorious act of religion. Conformable to this was their conNaiads, Nereids, nymphs of fountains,

stant and solemn prayer, that ibe gods would increase the number of Goddesses of groves and mountains,

tbeir courtezans. We may perceive, from the application of the verb Fair and sable, great and small,

zoper Olačelv, in Aristophanes, that the wantonness of the CorinYes I swear I've loved them all!

thians boca me proverbial.
Every passion soon was over,

There indeed are girls divine,
I was but the moment's lover;
Oh! I'm such a roving elf,

Dangerous to a soul like mine.) With justice has the poet attri-
That the Queen of Love berself,

buted beauty to the women of Greece. -DEGEN.

Monsieur de Pauw, the author of Dissertations upon the Greeks,
Though she practised all her wiles,
Rosy blasbes, golden smiles,

is of a different opinion; he thinks that, by a capricious partiality All ber beauty's proad endeavour

of nature, the other sex had all the beauty, and accounts upon this Could not chain my heart for ever!

supposition for a very singular depravation of instinct among them. Count me, on the summer trees,

Gades' warm desiring train.] The Gaditapian girls were like the Every leaf, etc.) This tigare is called, by the rhetoricians, QOUVC. Baladières of India, whose dances are thus described by a French Tov, and is very frequently made use of in poetry. The ama- author : «Les danses sont presque toutes des pantomimes d'amour ; tory writers have exhausted a world of imagery by it, to express the le plan, le dessin, les attitudes, les mesures, les sons, et les cadences infinity of kisses which they require from the lips of their mistresses : de ces ballets, tout respire cette passion, et eu exprime les voluptés in this Catullus led the way.

et les fureurs.. Histoire du Commerce des Europ. dans les deux Indes. -quam sidera multa, cum tacet nos,

Furtivos hominum vident amores;

The music of the Gaditanian females bad all the voluptuous cha-
Tam to basia multa basiare,

racter of their dancing, as appears from Martial : Vesano satis, et super Catullo est :

Cantica qai Nili, qui Gaditana susurrat. Lib. iii, epig. 63. Quæ nec pernumerare curiosi

Lodovico Ariosto bad this ode of our bard in his mind, wben be Possint, bec mala fascinare lingua.

wrote his poem De diversis amoribus. See the Anibologia Italorum. As many stellar eyes of light,

Tbe dove of Anacreon, bearing a letter from the poet to his misAs through the silent waste of night,

tress, is met by a stranger, with whom this dialogue is imagined. Gazing upon this world of shade,

The ancients made use of letter-carrying pigeons, when ibey went Witness some secret youth and maid,

any distance from home, as the most certain means of conveying inWho, fair as tbou, and fond as I,

telligence back. That tender domestic attachment, wbich attracts In stolen joys enamour'd lie!

this delicate liule bird through every danger and difficulty, till it So many kisses, ere I slumber,

settles in its native rest, affords to the elegant author of The PleaUpon those dew-bright lips I 'll number;

sures of Memory" a fine and interesting csemplification of his subject.
So many vermil, honey'd kisses,
Eovy can never count our blisses.

Led by what chart, transports the timid dove
No tongue shall tell the sum hut mine;

Tbe wreaths of conquest, or the vows of love!
No lips shall fascinate but thine!

See the poem. Daniel Heinsius has a similar sentiment, speaking In the sweet Corinthian grove,

of Dousa, who adopted ibis method at the siege of Leyden : Where the ylowing wantons rove, etc.) Corinth was very famous for Quo patriæ non tendit amor! Mandata referre ebo beauty and the number of its courtezans. Venus was the deity Postquam hominem nequiit mittere, misit aver.


Tell me whither, whence you rove,

Best of painters! come, pourtray Tell me all, my sweetest dove ?

The lovely maid that's far away. Curious stranger ! I belong

Far away, my soul! thou art, To the bard of Teian song;

But I've thy beauties all by heart. With his mandate now I fly

Paint her jetty ringlets straying, To the nymph of azure eye;

Silky twine in tendrils playing ; Ah! that eye has madden'd many,

And, if painting hath the skill But the poet more than any!

To make the spicy balm distil, Venus, for a hymn of love


every little lock exhale Warbled in her votive grove

A sigh of perfume on the gale. ('T was, in sooth, a gentle lay),

Where her tresses' curly flow Gave me to the bard away.

Darkles o'er the brow of snow, See me now his faithful minion,

Let her forehead beam to light, Thus, with softly-gliding pinion,

Burnish'd as the ivory bright. To his lovely girl I bear

Let her eyebrows sweetly rise Songs of passion through the air.

In jetty arches o'er ber eyes, Oft he blandly whispers me,

Gently in a crescent gliding, « Soon, my bird, I 'll set you free. »

Just commingling, just dividing. But in vain he 'll bid me fly,

But hast thou any sparkles warm,
I shall serve him till I die.

The lightning of her eyes to form!
Never could my plumes sustain
Ruffling winds and chilling rain,
O’er the plains, or in the dell,

ancients in beauty. Franciscus Junius quotes them in bis third book,

De Pictara Veterum. On the mountain's savage swell;

This ode has been imitated by Ronsard, Giuliano Goselini, etc. otc. Seeking in the desert wood

Scaliger allades to it ihus in his Anacreontica : Gloomy shelter, rustic food.

Olim lepore blando, Now I lead a life of ease,

Litis versibus

Candidus Anacreon
Far from such retreats as these;
From Anacreon's hand I eat

Quam pingeret Amicus

Descripsit Venerem suam.
Food delicious, viands sweet;
Flutter o'er his goblet's brim,

The Teian bard, of former days,

Attuned his sweet descriptive lays, Sip the foamy wine with him.

And taught the painter's hand to trace Then I dance and wanton round

His fair beloved's every grace! To the lyre's beguiling sound;

In the dialogue of Caspar Barlæus, entitled «An formosa sit ducenda, Or with gently-fanning wings

the reader will find many curious ideas and descriptions of beauty. Shade the minstrel while he sings : On his harp then sink in slumbers,

Thox, whose soft and rosy hues

Mimic form and soul infuse.) I have followed the reading of the Dreaming still of dulcet numbers !

Vatican MS. poons. Painting is called the rosy art, - either in This is all-away-away

reference to colouring, or as an indefinite epithet of excellence, You have made me waste the day.

from the association of beauty with that flower. Salvini has adoprod How I've chatter"d! prating crow

this reading in bis literal translation : Never yet did chatter so.

Della rosea arte signoro.
The lovely maid that's far away.) If the portrait of this beauty bo

not merely ideal, the omission of her name is mach to be regretted. ODE XVI.

Meleager, in an epigram on Anacreon, mention the golden Eury

pyle, as bis mistress : Trou, whose soft and rosy hues

Βεβληκως χρυσεην χειρας επΕυρυπυλην. Mimic form and soul infuse;

Paint her jetty ringlets straying,

Silky twine in tendrils playing.) The ancients have been very enFuller tells us that, at the siege of Jerusalem, the Christians iv

thusiastic in their praises of hair. Apuleius, in the second book of tercepted a letter tied to the legs of a dove, in which the Persian his Milesiacs, says that Venus herself, if she were bald, though surEmperor promised assistance to the besieged. See Fuller's Holy rounded by the Graces and the Lores, could not be pleasing even to War, cap. 24. b. i.

her husband Vulcan. Ah! that eye has madden'd many, etc.) For tupavyov, in the origi- Stesichorus gave the epithet xacà detthonapos to the Graces, and pal, Zeune and Sebneider conjecture that we should read Tuparvou, Simonides bestowed the same upon the Muses. See Hadrian Junius's in allusion to the strong influence which this object of bis 'love beld Dissertation upon Hair. over the mind of Polycrales.. -See Degen.

To this passage of our poet, Selden alluded in a note on the Poly

olbion of Drayton, song the second ; where, observing that the epiVenus, for a hymn of love

thet « black-baired , was given by some of the ancients to the godWarbled in her votive grove, etc.) . This passage is invaluable, and dess Isis, be says, “ Nor will I swear, but that Anacreon (a mas very I do not think that any thing so beautiful or so delicate has ever been judicious in the provoking motives of wanton lore), intending to said. What an idea does it give of the poetry of the man from whom bestow on his sweet mistress that one of the titles of woman's special Venus berself, the mother of the Graces and the pleasures, purchases ornament, well-haired (xaddidoxajos), thought of this when a little bymn with one of ber favourite dores..-LONGEPIERRE.

be gave bis painter direction to make her black-baired. De Pauw objects to the authenticity of this ode, because it makes Anacreon his own panegyrist; but poets have a license for praising

And, is painting hath the skill themselves, which, with some indeed, may be considered as com

To make the spicy balm distil, etc.) Thus Philostratas, speaking of prised under their general privilege of fiction.

a picture: επαινω και τον ενορoσoν των ροδων, και φημι "This ode and the next may be called companion-pictures; they yeypapoal AUTO METZ Tris oguris. . I admire the dewiness are highly finished, and give us an excellent idea of the taste of the of these roses, and could say that their very smell was painted.,

« VorigeDoorgaan »