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

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

ODE LX. '

AWAKE to life, my dulcet shell,
To Phœbus all thy sighs shall swell;
And though no glorious prize be thine,
No Pythian wreath around thee twine,
Yet every hour is glory's hour,

To him who gathers wisdom's flower!
Then wake thee from thy magic slumbers,
Breathe to the soft and Phrygian numbers.
Which, as my trembling lips repeat,
Thy chords shall echo back as sweet.
The cygnet thus, with fading notes,
As down Cayster's tide he floats,
Plays with his snowy plumage fair
Upon the wanton murmuring air,
Which amorously lingers round,
And sighs responsive sound for sound!
Muse of the Lyre! illume my dream,
Thy Phœbus is my fancy's theme;
And hallow'd is the harp I bear,
And hallow'd is the wreath I wear,
Hallow'd by him, the god of lays,
Who modulates the choral maze!
I sing the love which Daphne twined
Around the godhead's yielding mind;
I sing the blushing Daphne's flight
From this æthereal youth of light;
And how the tender, timid maid
Flew panting to the kindly shade,
Resign'd a form, too tempting fair,
And grew a verdant laurel there;
Whose leaves, with sympathetic thrill,
In terror seem'd to tremble still!

The god pursued, with wing'd desire;
And when his hopes were all on fire,
And when he thought to hear the sigh
With which enamour'd virgins die,
He only heard the pensive air
Whispering amid her leafy hair!
But oh, my soul! no more-no more!
Enthusiast, whither do I soar ?
This sweetly maddening dream of soul
Has hurried me beyond the goal.
Why should I sing the mighty darts
Which fly to wound celestial hearts,
When sure the lay, with sweeter tone,
Can tell the darts that wound my own?
Still be Anacreon, still inspire
The descant of the Teian lyre:
Still let the nectar'd numbers float,
Distilling love in every note!

And when the youth, whose burning soul
Has felt the Paphian star's control,
When he the liquid lays shall hear,
His heart will flutter to his ear,
And drinking there of song divine,
Banquet on intellectual wine!

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Τον Ανακρέοντα μιμού,

Imitate Anacreon. Such is the lesson given us by the lyrist; and if, in poetry, a simple elegance of sentiment, enriched by the most playful felicities of fancy, be a charm which invites or deserves imitation, where shall we find such a guide as Anacreon? In morality, too, with some little reserve, I think we might not blush to follow in his footsteps. For if his song be the language of his heart, though luxurious and relaxed, he was artless and benevolent; and who would not forgive a few irregularities, when atoned for by virtues so rare and so endearing? When we think of the sentiment in those lines:

Away! I hate the slanderous dart

Which steals to wound the unwary heart, how many are there in the world to whom we would wish to say, Τον Ανακρέοντα μιμου !

Here ends the last of the odes in the Vatican MS., whose authority confirms the genuine antiquity of them all, though a few have stolen among the number which we may besitate in attributing to Anacreon. In the little essay prefixed to this translation, I observed that Barnes had quoted this manuscript incorrectly, relying upon an imperfect copy of it which Isaac Vossius had taken; I shall just mention two or three instances of this inaccuracy, the first which occur to me. In the ode of the Dove, on the words Пtepott

This hymn to Apollo is supposed not to have been written by Anacreon, and it certainly is rather a sublimer flight than the Teian wing is accustomed to soar. But we ought not to judge from this diversity of style, in a poet of whom time has preserved such partial relics. If we knew Horace but as a satirist, should we easily believe there could dwell such animation in his lyre? Suidas says that our poet wrote hymns, and this perhaps is one of them. We can per-yaxλup, he says, Vatican MS. vaxtav, etiam Prisceive in what an altered and imperfect state his works are at present, when we find a scholiast upon Horace citing an ode from the third book of Anacreon.

And how the tender timid maid

Flew panting to the kindly shade, etc.] Original:

Το μεν εκπεφευγε κεντρον,
Φύσεως δ' αμειψε μορφήν.

ciano invito, - though the Manuscript reads covxzhufw, with Guoxiaow interlined. Degen, too, on the same line, is somewhat in error. In the twenty-second ode of this series, line thirteenth, the MS. bas Tet with t interlined, and Barnes imputes to it the reading of Tevd. In the fifty-seventh, line twelfth, he professes to have preserved the reading of the MS. Αλαλημένη σ επ' αυτή, while the latter has αλαλημένος δ' επ' αυτά. Almost all the other commentators have transplanted these errors from Barnes.

'The intrusion of this melancholy ode among the careless levities of our poet, has always reminded me of the skeletons which the Egyptians used to hang up in their banquet-rooms, to inculcate a

I find the word xɛvoy here has a double force, as it also signifies that omnium parentem, quam sanctus Numa, etc. etc. (See Martial.)-In order to confirm this import of the word here, those who are curious in new readings may place the stop after us, thought of mortality even amidst the dissipations of mirth. If it

thus:

Το μεν εκπέφευγε κεντρον

Φύσεως, δ' αμειψε μορφήν.

were not for the beauty of its numbers, the Teian Muse should disown this ode. Quid habet illius, illius quæ spirabat amores? To Stobaeus we are indebted for it.

Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,
All the flowers of life decay.
Withering age begins to trace
Sad memorials o'er my face;
Time has shed its sweetest bloom,
All the future must be gloom!
This awakes my hourly sighing;
Dreary is the thought of dying!
Pluto's is a dark abode,

Sad the journey, sad the road:
And the gloomy travel o'er,
Ah! we can return no more!

ODE LXII.'

FILL me, boy, as deep a draught

As e'er was fill'd, as e'er was quaff'd;
But let the water amply flow,

To cool the grape's intemperate glow;
Let not the fiery god be single,

But with the nymphs in union mingle;

For, though the bowl's the grave of sadness,
Oh! be it ne'er the birth of madness!

Bloomy graces, dalliance gay,

All the flowers of life decay.] Horace often, with feeling and elegance, deplores the fugacity of human enjoyments. See book ii, ode 11; and thus in the second epistle, book ii,

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

The wing of every passing day
Withers some blooming joy away;

And wafts from our enamour'd arms
The banquet's mirth, the virgin's charms.

Dreary is the thought of dying, etc.] Regnier, a libertine French poet, has written some sonnets on the approach of death, full of gloomy and trembling repentance. Chaulieu, however, supports more consistently the spirit of the Epicurean philosopher. See his poem, addressed to the Marquis La Farre:

Plus j'approche du terme et moins je le redoute, etc.

I shall leave it to the moralist to make his reflections here: it is impossible to be very anacreontic on such a subject.

And, the gloomy travel o'er,

No, banish from our board to night
The revelries of rude delight!
To Scythians leave these wild excesses,
Ours be the joy that soothes and blesses!
And while the temperate bowl we wreathe,
Our choral hymns shall sweetly breathe,
Beguiling every hour along

With harmony of soul and song!

ODE LXIII.'

To Love, the soft and blooming child,

I touch the harp in descant wild;

To Love, the babe of Cyprian bowers,
The boy who breathes and blushes flowers!
To Love, for heaven and earth adore him,
And gods and mortals bow before him!

ODE LXIV. 2

HASTE thee, nymph, whose winged spear
Wounds the fleeting mountain-deer!
Dian, Jove's immortal child,
Huntress of the savage wild!
Goddess with the sun-bright hair!

Listen to a people's prayer.

Turn, to Lethe's river turn,

There thy vanquish'd people mourn!
Come to Lethe's wavy shore,
There thy people's peace restore.

Thine their hearts, their altars thine!
Dian! must they must they pine?

ODE LXV.3

LIKE some wanton filly sporting,
Maid of Thrace! thou fly'st my courting.
Wanton filly! tell me why

Thou tripp'st away with scornful eye,

This fragment is preserved in Clemens Alexandrinus, Strom. vi, and in Arsenius, Collect. Græc.» BARNES.

It appears to have been the opening of a hymn in praise of Love.

Ah! we can return no more! Scaliger, upon Catullus's well-lib. known lines, Qui nunc it per iter, etc. remarks, that Acheron, with the same idea, is called avetodos, by Theocritus, and δυσεκδρομος, by Nicander.

This hymn to Diana is extant in Hephæstion. There is an anecdote of our poet, which has led to some doubt whether he ever wrote any odes of this kind. It is related by the Scholiast upon Pindar This ode consists of two fragments, which are to be found in Athe- (Isthmionic. od. ii, v. 1, as cited by Barnes). Anacreon being asked, næus, book x, and which Barnes, from the similarity of their tendency, has combined into one. I think this a very justifiable li- why he addressed all his hymns to women, and none to the deities? berty, and have adopted it in some other fragments of our poet. Degen refers us here to verses of Uz, lib. iv, der Trinker.

But let the water amply flow,

To cool the grape's intemperate glow, etc.] It was Amphictyon who first taught the Greeks to mix water with their wine; in commemoration of which circumstance they erected altars to Bacchus and the nymphs. On this mythological allegory the following epigram is founded:

Ardentem ex utero Semeles lavere Lyæum
Naiades, extincto fulminis igne sacri;
Cum nymphis igitur tractabilis, at sine nymphis
Candenti rursus fulmine corripitur.
Pierius Valerianus.

Which is, non verbum verbo,

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

He bathes him in the fountain of the nymph.

answered, Because women are my deities.

I have assumed the same liberty in reporting this anecdote which I have done in translating some of the odes; and it were to be wished that these little infidelities were always considered pardonable in the interpretation of the ancients; thus, when nature is forgotten in the original, in the translation, tamen usque recurret.» Turn, to Lethe's river turn,

There thy vanquish'd people mourn!] Lethe, a river of Ionia, according to Strabo, falling into the Meander; near to it was situated the town Magnesia, in favour of whose inhabitants our poet is supposed to have addressed this supplication to Diana. It was written (as Madame Dacier conjectures) on the occasion of some battle, in which the Magnesians had been defeated.

This ode, which is addressed to some Thracian girl, exists in Heraclides, and has been imitated very frequently by Horace, as all the annotators have remarked. Madame Dacier rejects the allegory, which runs so obviously throughout it, and supposes it to have been addressed to a young mare belonging to Polycrates: there is more modesty than ingenuity in the lady's conjecture.

Pierius, in the fourth book of his Hieroglyphics, cites this ode, and informs us, that the horse was the hieroglyphical emblem of pride.

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To thee, the Queen of nymphs divine, Fairest of all that fairest shine: To thee, thou blushing young Desire, Who rulest the world with darts of fire! And oh! thou nuptial Power, to thee Who bear'st of life the guardian key: Breathing my soul in fragrant praise, And weaving wild my votive lays, For thee, O Queen! I wake the lyre, For thee, thou blushing young Desire! And oh! for thee, thou nuptial Power, Come, and illume this genial hour. Look on thy bride, luxuriant boy! And while thy lambent glance of joy Plays over all her blushing charms, Delay not, snatch her to thine arms, Before the lovely trembling prey, Like a young birdling, wing away! Oh! Stratocles, impassion'd youth! Dear to the Queen of amorous truth, And dear to her, whose yielding zone Will soon resign her all thine own; Turn to Myrilla, turn thine eye, Breathe to Myrilla, breathe thy sigh! To those bewitching beauties turn; For thee they mantle, flush, and burn! Not more the rose, the Queen of flowers, Outblushes all the glow of bowers, Than she unrivall'd bloom discloses, The sweetest rose, where all are roses! Oh!

may the sun benignant shed

His blandest influence o'er thy bed;
And foster there an infant tree,

To blush like her, and bloom like thee!

This ode is introduced in the Romance of Theodorus Prodromus, and is that kind of epithalamium which was sung like a scholium at the nuptial banquet.

Among the many works of the impassioned Sappho, of which time and ignorant superstition have deprived us, the loss of her epithalamiums is not one of the least that we deplore. A subject so interesting to an amorous fancy was warmly felt, and must have been warmly described, by such a soul and such an imagination. The following lines are cited as a relic of one of her epithalamiums :

Ολβιε γαμβρε. σοι μεν δη γαμος ὡς αρχο,
Εκτετελες, έχεις δε παρθενον αν αρας.

See Scaliger, in his Poetics, on the Epithalamium.

And foster there an infant tree,

To blush like her, and bloom like thee!] Original, KUπxpITTOS δε πεφυκοι σεν ένι κηπῳ. Passeratius, upon the words • cur castum amisit florem, in the nuptial song of Catullus, after explain

ODE LXVII.'

GENTLE youth! whose looks assume
Such a soft and girlish bloom,
Why repulsive, why refuse

The friendship which my heart pursues!
Thou little know'st the fond control
With which thy virtue reins my soul!
Then smile not on my locks of gray,
Believe me, oft with converse gay
I've chain'd the years of tender age,
And boys have loved the prattling sage!
For mine is many a soothing pleasure,
And mine is many a soothing measure;
And much I hate the beamless mind,
Whose earthly vision, unrefined,
Nature has never form'd to see
The beauties of simplicity!
Simplicity, the flower of heaven,
To souls elect, by Nature given !

ODE LXVIII.*

RICH in bliss, I proudly scorn
The stream of Amalthea's horn?
Nor should I ask to call the throne
Of the Tartessian prince my own;
To totter through his train of years,
The victim of declining fears.

One little hour of joy to me
Is worth a dull eternity!

ing flos, in somewhat a similar sense to that which Gaulminusattributes to porov, says, Hortum quoque vocant in quo flos ille carpitur, et Gracis κήπον εςι το εφηβαιον γυναικών.»,

May I remark, that the author of the Greek version of this charming ode of Catullus bas neglected a most striking and Anacreontic beauty in those verses, « Ut flos in septis, etc. which is the repetition of the line Multi illum pueri, multæ optavere puellæ, with the slight alteration of nulli and nulle. Catullus himself, however, has been equally injudicious in his version of the famous ode of Sappho; he has translated γελώσας ιμερόεν, but takes no notice of αδυ pwvousxs. Horace has caught the spirit of it more faithfully:

Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, Dulce loquentem.

I have formed this poem of three or four different fragments, which is a liberty that perhaps may be justified by the example of Barnes, who has thus compiled the fifty-seventh of his edition, and the little ode beginning φερ' ύδωρ, φερ' οινον, ω παι, which he has subjoined to the epigrams.

The fragments combined in this ode, are the sixty-seventh, ninetysixth, ninety-seventh, and hundredth of Barnes's edition, to which I refer the reader for the names of the authors by whom they are

preserved.

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And every guest, to shade his head,

Three little breathing chaplets spread.] Longepierre, to give an idea of the luxurious estimation in which garlands were held by the ancients, relates an anecdote of a courtezan, who, in order to gratify three lovers, without leaving cause for jealousy with any of them, gave a kiss to one, let the other drink after her, and put a garland on the brow of the third; so that each was satisfied with his favour, and flattered himself with the preference.

This circumstance is extremely like the subject of one of the tensons of Savari de Mauléon, a troubadour. See L'Histoire Littéraire des Troubadours. The recital is a curious picture of the puerile gallantries of chivalry.

This poem is compiled by Barnes, from Athenæus, Hephæstion, and Arsenius. See Barnes, 8oth.

4 This I have formed from the eighty-fourth and eighty-fifth of Barnes's edition. The two fragments are found in Athenæus.

ODE LXXIV. '

I BLOOM'D, awhile, a happy flower,
Till love approach'd, one fatal hour,
And made my tender branches feel
The wounds of his avenging steel.
Then, then I feel, like some poor willow
That tosses on the wintry billow!

ODE LXXV. 3

MONARCH LOVE! resistless boy,
With whom the rosy Queen of Joy,
And nymphs, that glance ethereal blue,
Disporting tread the mountain-dew;
Propitious, oh! receive my sighs,
Which, burning with entreaty rise,
That thou wilt whisper to the breast
Of her I love thy soft behest;
And counsel her to learn from thee
The lesson thou hast taught to me.

Ah! if my heart no flattery tell,

Thou 'It own I've learn'd that lesson well!

ODE LXXVI. 4

SPIRIT of Love! whose tresses shine

Along the breeze, in golden twine,

The nursling fawn, that in some shade

Its antler'd mother leaves behind, etc.] In the original:

Ος εν ύλη κερόεσσης

Απολειφθεις ύπο μητρός.

Dacier, however, observes, that Sophocles, Callimachus, etc. have all Horned here, undoubtedly, seems a strange epithet; Madame applied it in the very same manner; and she seems to agree in the conjecture of the scholiast upon Pindar, that perhaps horns are not always peculiar to the males. I think we may with more ease conclude it to be a license of the poet, jussit habere puellam cornua,

This fragment is preserved by the scholiast upon Aristophanes, and is the eighty-seventh in Barnes.

This is to be found in Hephæstion, and is the eighty-ninth of Barnes's edition.

I must here apologize for omitting a very considerable fragment imputed to our poet, Eavon EupuπUẦN μɛɛt, etc. which is preserved in the twelfth book of Athenæus, and is the ninety-first in Barnes. If it was really Anacreon who wrote it, nil fuit unquam sic impar sibi. It is in a style of gross satire, and is full of expressions which never could be gracefully translated.

This fragment is preserved by Dion. Chrysostom, Orat. ii, de Regno. See Barnes, 93.

This fragment, which is extant in Athenæus (Barnes, 101), is supposed, on the authority of Chamæleon, to have been addressed to

Come within a fragrant cloud,
Blushing with light, thy votary shroud;
And, on those wings that sparkling play,
Waft, oh! waft me hence away!
Love! my soul is full of thee,
Alive to all thy luxury.

But she, the nymph for whom I glow,
The pretty Lesbian, mocks my woe;
Smiles at the hoar and silver'd hues
Which Time upon my forehead strews.
Alas! I fear she keeps her charms
In store for younger, happier arms.

ODE LXXVII. '

HITHER, gentle muse of mine,
Come and teach thy votary old
Many a golden hymn divine,

For the nymph with vest of gold.

Pretty nymph, of tender age,

Fair thy silky locks unfold; Listen to a hoary sage,

Sweetest maid with vest of gold!

ODE LXXVIII. '

WOULD that I were a tuneful lyre,
Of burnish'd ivory fair,
Which in the Dionysian choir
Some blooming boy should bear!

Would that I were a golden vase,

And then some nymph should hold My spotless frame with blushing grace, Herself as pure as gold!

Sappho. We have also a stanza attributed to her, which some ro-
mancers have supposed to be her answer to Anacreon.
Mais par
malheur (as Bayle says) Sappho vint au monde environ cent ou six
vingts ans avant Anacréon. Nouvelles de la Rép. des Lett. tom. ii,
de Novembre, 1684. The following is ber fragment, the compliment
of which is very finely imagined; she supposes that the Muse has
dictated the verses of Anacreon:

Κείνον, ω χρυσοθρόνε Μουσ', ενισπες
Ύμνον, εκ της καλλιγυναικός εσθλας
Τηΐος χώρας δν αείδε τερπνως

Πρεσβυς αγαυος.

Oh Muse! who sitt'st on golden throne,
Full many a hymn of dulcet tone

The Teian sage is taught by thee;
But, goddess, from thy throne of gold,
The sweetest hymn thou'st ever told,

He lately learn'd and sang for me.

This is formed of the 124th and 119th fragments in Barnes, both of which are to be found in Scaliger's Poetics.

De Pauw thinks that those detached lines and couplets, which Scaliger has adduced as examples in his Poetics, are by no means authentic, but of his own fabrication.

This is generally inserted among the remains of Alcæus. Some, however, have attributed it to Anacreon. See our poet's twenty-second ode, and the notes.

ODE LXXIX. '

WHEN Cupid sees my beard of snow,
Which blanching Time has taught to flow,
Upon his wing of golden light

He passes with an eaglet's flight,
And, flitting on, he seems to say,
«Fare thee well, thou'st had thy day!»>

2 CUPID, whose lamp has lent the ray Which lightens our meandering wayCupid, within my bosom stealing, Excites a strange and mingled feeling, Which pleases, though severely teasing, And teases, though divinely pleasing.

3 LET me resign a wretched breath, Since now remains to me

No other balm than kindly death, To soothe my misery!

4I KNOW thou lovest a brimming measure,
And art a kindly cordial host;
But let me fill and drink at pleasure,
Thus I enjoy the goblet most!

"I FEAR that love disturbs my rest,
Yet feel not love's impassion'd care;
I think there's madness in my breast,
Yet cannot find that madness there!

6 FROM dread Leucadia's frowning steep I'll plunge into the whitening deep, And there I'll float, to waves resign'd, For love intoxicates my mind!

7 MIx me, child, a cup divine, Crystal water, ruby wine:

1 See Barnes, 173d. This fragment, to which I have taken the liberty of adding a turn not to be found in the original, is cited by Lucian in his little essay on the Gallic Hercules.

2 Barnes, 125th. This, ifI remember right, is in Scaliger's Poetics. Gail has omitted it in his collection of fragments.

3 This fragment is extant in Arsenius and Hephæstion. See Barnes (69th), who has arranged the metre of it very elegantly.

Barnes, 72d. This fragment, which is quoted by Athenæus, is an excellent lesson for the votaries of Jupiter Hospitalis.

5 This fragment is in Hephaestion. See Barnes, 95th.
Catullus expresses something of this contrariety of feelings:

Odi et amo; quare id faciam fortasse requiris;
Nescio: sed fieri sentio, et excrucior. Carm. 53.

I love thee and hate thee, but if I can tell

The cause of my love and my hate, may I die!

I can feel it, alas! I can feel it too well,

That I love thee and hate thee, but cannot tell why.

This also is in Hephaestion, and perhaps is a fragment of some poem, in which Anacreon had commemorated the fate of Sappho. It is the 123d of Barnes.

'This fragment is collected by Barnes from Demetrius Phalareus, and Eustathius, and is subjoined in his edition to the epigrams attributed to our poet. And here is the last of those little scattered flowers which I thought I might venture with any grace to transplant. I wish it could be said of the garland which they form, Το δ' ως Ανακρέοντος.

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