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, 2
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;
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;

1 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,

Cœli 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.

* And chirp 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 says ur' uw oi TETTIYES oux sudaμors, ún vais yanaižno end' éti our çayns ; are not the grasshoppers happy in having dumb wives?"" This note is originally Henry Stephen's; but I chose rather to make a lady my authority for it.

3 The Muses love thy skrilly tone; &c.] Phile, de Animal. Proprietat. calls this insect Mouras pies, the darling of the Muses; and Moura egys, 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 παντων δ' ηγείτο πλατυστατος, αλλ' αγορητής
Ήδιεσης τέττιξιν ισογράφος, οἱ θ' Εκαδημου "
Δενδρες εφεζόμενοι στα λειριόεσσαν ίεισι.

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

4 Melodious insect, child 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:

'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, 4 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;
Luckless urchin, not to see
Within the leaves a slumbering bee;

Αρκει τεττιγας μεθυσαι δροσος, αλλά πίοντες
Αείδειν κυκνων εισι γεγωνότεροι.

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:

Ερως ποτ' εν χορείαις
Των παρθένων αυτόν,
Την μοι φίλην Κορίνναν,
Ως είδεν, ὡς προς αυτήν
Προσέδραμε τραχηλω
Δίδυμας τε χειρας αυτών
Φίλει με, μητες, είπε.
Καλουμένη Κορίννα,
Μητης, ερυθριάζει,

Ως παρθενος μεν ούσα.
Κ' αυτος δε δυσχεραίνων,
'Ως ομμασι πλανηθείς,
Έρως ερυθριάζει.
Εγω, δε οἱ παραστας,

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!"

That when Death came, with shadowy pinion,

To waft me to his bleak dominion, 2

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; s
And mine, while yet I've life to live,
Those joys that love alone can give.

ODE XXXVI.1

If 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;

Μη δυσχεραινε, φημι.
Κυπριν τε και Κορίνναν
Διαγνώσαι ουκ έχουσι
Και οἱ βλέποντες έξυ.

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.

1 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 Schmidt in der Poet. Blumenl., Gotting. 1783, p. 7." - Degen.

2 That when Death came, with shadowy pinion,

To waft me to his bleak dominion, &c.] The commenta

ODE XXXVII.4

"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;

tors, who are so fond of disputing "de lanâ caprinâ,” have been very busy on the authority of the phrase is' av Daruv επελθη. The reading of iv' αν Θανατος επέλθη, which De Me denbach proposes in his Amonitates Literariæ, was already hinted by Le Fevre, who seldom suggests any thing 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 forgotten by the author of the following scholíum, where the blessings of life are enumerated with proverbial simplicity. Υγιαίνειν μεν αριστον ανδρι θνητῳ. Δεύτερον δε, καλον φυην γενεσθαι. Το τρίτον δε, πλουτείν αδόλως. Και το τεταρτον συνεξαν 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 Longinus), 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, at 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 φιλοπότης εστιν άνθρωπος κακος.
"No lover of drinking was ever a vicious man."

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, 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!1.
1-"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.4

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!
Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking!
Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking!
Say, can the tears we lend to thought
In life's account avail us aught?
Can we discern with all our lore,
The path we've yet to journey o'er?
Alas, alas, in ways so dark,

'Tis only wine can strike a spark! 5
Then let me quaff the foamy tide,
And through the dance meandering glide;
Let me imbibe the spicy breath
Of odours chaf'd to fragrant death;
Or from the lips of love inhale
A more ambrosial, richer gale!

To hearts that court the phantom Care,
Let him retire and shroud him there;
While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl,
And swell the choral song of soul
To him, the god who loves so well
The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!

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 words 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 Bürger, } p.51, &c. &c.” — Degen.

3

* Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms

So oft has fondled in her arms.] Robertellus, upon the epithalamium of Catullus, mentions an ingenious derivation of Cythera, the name of Venus, παρά το κευθειν τους έρωτας,

'Tis only wine can strike a spark!] The brevity of life allows arguments for the voluptuary as well as the moralist. Among many parallel passages which Longepierre has adduced, I shall content myself with this epigram from the Anthologia.

Λουσαμενοι, Προδίκη, πυκασώμεθα, και τον ακρατον
Ελκωμεν, κυλικας μείζονας αραμένοι.
'Ραιος ὁ χαιροντων εστι βίος. είτα τα λοιπα
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!

And while the red cup foams along,
Mingle in soul as well as song.
Then, while I sit, with flowret's 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.

Come, let us hear the harp's gay note
Upon the breeze inspiring float,
While round us, kindling into love,

Young maidens through the light dance move.
Thus blest with mirth, and love, and peace,
Sure such a life should never cease!

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! ?
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;·
And Venus, too, with all her wiles,
And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles,
All, all are here, to hail with me
The Genius of Festivity! 4

3

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,

1 And while the harp, impassion'd, flings

Tuneful rapture from its strings, &c.] Respecting the barbiton a host of authorities may be collected, which, after all, leave us ignorant of the nature of the instrument. There is scarcely any point upon which we are so totally uninformed as the music of the ancients. The authors a extant upon the subject are, I imagine, little understood; and certainly if one of their moods was a progression by quarter-tones, which we are told was the nature of the enharmonic 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 to sugna THU Araxtortes. 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,

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

Κάψη τις μ' εφίλησε ποθέσπερα χείλεσιν ύγροις.
Νέκταρ την το φιλημα, το γας στομα νέκταρος επνει.
Νυν μεθύω το φίλημα, πολύν τον έρωτα πεπωκώς.

Of which the following paraphrase may give some idea:

a Collected by Meibomius.

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.

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.
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!

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.'"