ODE LXVII.
(The 80th in Barnes.)
A BROKEN cake, with honey sweet,
Is all my spare and simple treat;
And while a generous bowl I crown
To float my little banquet down,
I take the soft, the amorous lyre,
And sing of love's entrancing fire!
In mirthful measures, light and free,
I sing, dear maid, and sing for thee!
(The 84th and 85th in Barnes.) WITH twenty chords my lyre is hung, And while I wake them all for thee, Thou, O virgin, wild and young, Disport'st in airy levity.
The nursling fawn, that in some shade Its antler'd mother leaves behind,
Is not more wantonly afraid,
More timid of the rustling wind!
ODE LXIX.
(The 87th in Barnes.)
FARE-thee-well, perfidious maid!
My soul, too long on earth delay'd,
Delay'd, perfidious girl! by thee,
Is now on wing for liberty.
I fly to seek a kindlier sphere,
Since thou hast ceas'd to love me here!
ODE LXX.
(The 89th in Barnes.)
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 LXXI.
(The 93d in Barnes.)
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'lt own I've learn'd that lesson well!
ODE LXXII.
(The 101st in Barnes.)
SPIRIT of Love, whose tresses shine
Along the breeze, in golden twine;
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.
(The 119th and 124th in Barnes.)
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!
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!
ODE LXXV.
(The 173d in Barnes).
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!"
ODE LXXVI.
(The 125th in Barnes.)
CUPID, whose lamp has lent the ray,
Which lightens our meandering way
Cupid, within my bosom stealing,
Excites a strange and mingled feeling,
Which pleases, though severely teasing,
And teases, though divinely pleasing!
ODE LXXVII.
(The 69th in Barnes.)
LET me resign a wretched breath,
Since now remains to me
No other balm than kindly death
To soothe my misery!
ODE LXXVIII.
(The 72d in Barnes.)
I KNOW thou lov'st a brimming measure,
And art a kindly, cordial host;
But let me fill and drink at pleasure,
Thus I enjoy the goblet most.
ODE LXXIX.
(The 95th in Barnes.)
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
ODE LXXX.
(The 123d in Barnes.)
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!
ODE LXXXI.
Mix me, child, a cup divine,
Crystal water, ruby wine:
Weave the frontlet, richly flushing,
O'er my wintry temples blushing.
Mix the brimmer-Love and I
Shall no more the gauntlet try.
Here-upon this holy bowl,
I surrender all my soul!
AN ODE BY THE TRANSLATOR.
ΕΠΙ ροδινοις ταπησί,
Τηΐος ποτ' ὁ μελιστης
Ιλαρος γελων εκείτο,
Μεθύων τε και λυρίζων
Αμφι αυτον οι δ' ερωτες
Απαλοι συνεχόρευσαν
Ο βέλη τα της Κυθηρης
Εποιει, ψυχης οιστους"
Ο δε λευκα πορφυροισι
Κρινα συν ρόδοισι πλέξας,
Εφιλει στεφων γεροντα
Η δε θεαων ανασσα,
ΣΟΦΙΗ ποτ' εξ' Ολυμπου
Εσορωσ ̓ Ανακρεοντα,
Εσόρωσα τους έρωτας,
Υπομειδιασσας ειπε
Σοφε, δ ̓ ὡς Ανακρέοντα
Τον σοφωτατον απαντων,
Καλεουσιν οι σοφισται,
Τι, γερων, τεον βιον μεν
Τοις ερωσι, τω Λυαίω,
Κ' ουκ εμοι κρατειν έδωκας;
Τι φιλημα της Κυθήρης,
Τι κυπελλα του Λυαίου,
Αιει γ' ετρύφησας αδων,
Ουκ εμους νομους διδασκών,
Ουκ εμον λαχων άωτον;
̔Ο δε Τηϊος μελιστης
Μητε δυσχεραινε, φησί,
'Οτι, θεα, σου γ' ανευ μεν,
Ο σοφωτατος απαντων
Παρα των σοφων καλουμαι
Φιλέω, πιω, λυρίζω,
Μετα των καλων γυναικων
Αφελως δε τερπνα παιζω,
Ως λυρη γαρ, εμον ητος
Αναπνει μονους ερωτας
Ωδε βιοτου γαληνην
Φιλέων μαλιστα παντων,
Ου σοφός μελωδος ειμι ;
Τις σοφώτερος μεν εστί;
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