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But wisely quaff the rosy wave,
Which Bacchus loves, which Bacchus gave;
And in the goblet, rich and deep,
Cradle our crying woes to sleep.


Rose, thou art the swectest flower
That ever drank the amber shower;
Rose, thou art the fondest child
Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild.
Even the Gods, who walk the sky,
Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
Cupid, too, in Paphian shades,
His hair with rosy fillet braids,
When with the blushing, sister Graces,
The wanton winding dance he traces.'
Then bring me, showers of roses bring,
And shed them o'er me while I sing,
Or while, great Bacchus, round thy shrine,
Wreathing my brow with rose and vine,
I lead some bright nymph through the dance, 2
Commingling soul with every glance.

Behold, the young, the rosy Spring,
Gives to the breeze her scented wing;
While virgin Graces, warm with May,
Fling roses o'er her dewy way. 5
The murmuring billows of the deep
Have languish'd into silent sleep ; 6
And mark! the fitting sea-birds lave
Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
While cranes from hoary winter fly
To flutter in a kinder sky.
Now the genial star of day
Dissolves the murky clouds away;
And cultur'd field, and winding stream,
Are freshly glittering in his beam.

Now the earth prolific swells
With leafy buds and flowery bells ;
Gemming shoots the olive twine,
Clusters ripe festoon the vine ;
All along the branches creeping,
Through the velvet foliage peeping,
Little infant fruits we see,
Nursing into luxury.


WITHIN this goblet, rich and deep,
I cradle all my woes to sleep.
Why should we breathe the sigh of fear,
Or pour the unavailing tear ?
For death will never heed the sigh,
Nor soften at the tearful eye;
And eyes that sparkle, eyes that weep,
Must all alike be seal'd in sleep.
Then let us never vainly stray,
In search of thorns, from pleasure's way; 3

| When with the blushing, sister Graces,

There is a simple and poetical description of Spring, in The wanton winding dance he traces.) “This sweet idea Catullus's beautiful farewell to Bithynia. Carm. 44. of Love dancing with the Graces, is almost peculiar to Ana. Barnes conjectures, in his life of our poet, that this ode creon.” – Degen.

was written after he had returned from Athens, to settle in

his paternal seat at Teos ; where, in a little villa at some ? I lead some bright nymph through the dance, &c.] The epithet Babyzontos, which he gives to the nymph, is literally and the islands, he contemplated the beauties of nature and

distance from the city, commanding a view of the Ægean Sea " full-bosomed."

enjoyed the felicities of retirement. Vide Barnes, in Anac. 3 Then let us never vainly stray,

Vita, xxxv. This supposition, however unauthenticated, In search of thorns, from pleasure's way ; &c.] I have forms a pleasing association, which renders the poem more thus endeavoured to convey the meaning of or de to Blev interesting. Thawwulas ; according to Regnier's paraphrase of the line :- Chevreau says, that Gregory Nazianzenus has paraphrased

somewhere this description of Spring; but I cannot meet E che val, fuor della strada

with it. See Chevreau, Euvres Mélées. Del piacere alma e gradita,

“ Compare with this ode (says Degen) the verses of Vaneggiare in questa vita ?

Hagedorn, book fourth, der Frühling,' and book fifth, der 4 The fastidious affectation of some commentators has de

Mai.'” nounced this ode as spurious. Degen pronounces the four 5 While virgin Graces, warm with May, last lines to be the patch-work of some miserable versificator, Fling roses o'er her dewy way.) De Pauw reads, X xpires and Brunck condemns the whole ode. It appears to me, on pode Bqueuri, “ the roses display their graces." This is not the contrary, to be elegantly graphical ; full of delicate ex- uningenious; but we lose by it the beauty of the personifica. pressions and luxuriant imagery. The abruptness of Ide sus tion, to the boldness of which Regnier has rather frivolously sagor Pavtytos is striking and spirited, and has been imitated objected. rather languidly by Horace :

6 The murmuring billow's of the deep Vides ut alta stet nive candidum

Have languish'd into silent sleep; &c.] It has been justly Soracte

remarked, that the liquid flow of the line αταλυνεται γαληνη The imperative ide is infinitely more impressive ; – as in

is perfectly expressive of the tranquillity which it describes. Shakspeare,

7 And cultur'd field, and winding stream, &c.] By Boran

sega "the works of men " (says Baxter), he means cities, But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad,

temples, and towns, which are then illuminated by the beams Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

of the sun.


Tis true, my fading years decline,
Yet can I quaff the brimming wine,
As deep as any stripling fair,
Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear ;
And if, amidst the wanton crew,
I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue,
Then shalt thou see this vigorous hand,
Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand,
But brandishing a rosy flask, 1
The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask ! ?

Let those, who pant for Glory's charms,
Embrace her in the field of arms;
While my inglorious, placid soul
Breathes not a wish beyond this bowl.
Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,
And bathe me in its brimming wave.
For though my fading years decay,
Though manhood's prime hath pass'd away,
Like old Silenus, sire divine,
With blushes borrow'd from my wine,
Il wanton 'mid the dancing train,
And live my follies o'er again!

On my velvet couch reclining,
Ivy leaves my brow entwining, 3
While my soul expands with glee,
What are kings and crowns to me ?
If before my feet they lay,
I would spurn them all away!
Arm ye, arm ye, men of might,
Hasten to the sanguine fight; 4
But let me, my budding vine !
Spill no other blood than thine.
Yonder brimming goblet see,
That alone shall vanquish me —
Who think it better, wiser far
To fall in banquet than in war.


WHEN Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,
The rosy harbinger of joy,
Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,
Thaws the winter of our soul - 6
When to my inmost core he glides,
And bathes it with his ruby tides,
A flow of joy, a lively heat,
Fires my brain, and wings my feet,
Calling up round me visions known
To lovers of the bowl alone.


When my thirsty soul I steep,
Every sorrow's lullid to sleep.
Talk of monarchs ! I am then
Richest, happiest, first of men ;
Careless o'er my cup I sing,
Fancy makes me more than king;
Gives me wealthy Cræsus' store,
Can I, can I wish for more ?

Sing, sing of love, let music's sound
In melting cadence float around,
While, my young Venus, thou and I
Responsive to its murmurs sigh.
Then, waking from our blissful trance,
Again we'll sport, again we'll dance.

1 Beat brandishing a rosy flask, &c.] Arxes was a kind of

Altri segua Marte fero; leather vessel for wine, very much in use, as should seem

Che sol Bacco è 'I mio conforto. by the proverb veres za Jumaxes, which was applied to those who were intemperate in eating and drinking. This 5 This, the preceding ode, and a few more of the same proverb is mentioned in some verses quoted by Athenæus, character, are merely chansons à boire ; – the effusions profrom the Hesione of Alexis.

bably of the moment of conviviality, and afterwards sung, we * The only thyrsus ere l'u ask ! ] Phornutus assigns as a

may imagine, with rapture throughout Greece. But that Teason for the consecration of the thyrsus to Bacchus, that interesting association, by which they always recalled the inebriety often renders the support of a stick very necessary.

convivial emotions that produced them, can now be little felt * lry leaves my brow entwining, &c.] “ The ivy was con

even by the most enthusiastic reader; and much less by a secrated to Bacchus (says Montfaucon), because he formerly phlegmatic grammarian, who sees nothing in them but dia

lects and particles. lay hid under that tree, or, as others will have it, because its leaves resemble those of the vine.” Other reasons for its 6 Who, with the sunshine of the bowl, consecration, and the use of it in garlands at banquets, may Thaws the winter of our soul -- &c.] Avalos is the title be found in Longepierre, Barnes, &c. &c.

which he gives to Bacchus in the original. It is a curious • Arm ye, arm ye, men af might,

circumstance that Plutarch mistook the name of Levi among Hasten to the sanguine fight;] I have adopted the inter- the Jews for Asus (one of the bacchanal cries), and accordpretation of Regnier and others:

ingly supposed that they worshipped Bacchus.



When wine I quaff, before my eyes
Dreams of poetic glory rise ; ?
And freshen'd by the goblet's dews,
My soul invokes the heavenly Muse.
When wine I drink, all sorrow's o'er ;
I think of doubts and fears no more ;
But scatter to the railing wind
Each gloomy phantom of the mind.
When I drink wine, th' ethereal boy,
Bacchus himself, partakes my joy ;
And while we dance through vernal bowers,
Whose ev'ry breath comes fresh from flowers,
In wine he makes my senses swim,
Till the gale breathes of nought but him!

Bright shapes, of every hue and form,
Upon my kindling fancy swarm,
Till the whole world of beauty seems
To crowd into my dazzled dreams !
When thus I drink, my heart refines,
And rises as the cup declines;
Rises in the genial flow,
That none but social spirits know,
When, with young revellers, round the bowl,
The old themselves grow young in soul! +
Oh, when I drink, true joy is mine,
There's bliss in every drop of wine.
All other blessings I have known,
I scarcely dar'd to call my own;
But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,
Till death o'ershadows all my joy.



Again I drink, -and, lo, there seems
A calmer light to fill my dreams;
The lately ruffled wreath I spread
With steadier hand around my head ;
Then take the lyre, and sing “how blest
The life of him who lives at rest!
But then comes witching wine again,
With glorious woman in its train;
And, while rich perfumes round me rise,
That seem the breath of woman's sighs,

Fly not thus my brow of snow,
Lovely wanton! fly not so.
Though the wane of age is mine,
Though youth's brilliant flush be thine,
Still I'm doom'd to sigh for thee,
Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me!

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i Faber thinks this Ode spurious ; but, I believe, he is Or this: singular in his opinion. It has all the spirit of our author.

Indi mi mena Like the wreath which he presented in the dream, “it

Mentre lieto ebro, deliro, smells of Anacreon."

Baccho in giro The form of the original is remarkable. It is a kind of

Per la vaga aura serena. song of seven quatrain stanzas, each beginning with the line "Οτ' εγω πιω τον οίνον

4 When, with young revellers, round the boul, The first stanza alone is incomplete, consisting but of

The old themselves grow young in soul!) Subjoined to three lines.

Gail's edition of Anacreon, we find some curious letters upon “ Compare with this poem (says Degen) the verses of the Bicons of the ancients, which appeared in the French Hagedorn, lih. v., der Wein,' where that divine poet has

Journals. At the opening of the Odéon in Paris, the manwantoned in the praises of wine."

agers of that spectacle requested Professor Gail to give them

some uncommon name for their fêtes. He suggested the 2 When wine I quaff, before my eyes

word " Thiase,” which was adopted; but the literati of Paris Dreams of poetic glory rise ;] Anacreon is not the

questioned the propriety of the term, and addressed their only one (says Longepierre) whom wine has inspired with

criticisms to Gail through the medium of the public prints. poetry. We find an epigram in the first book of the Anthologia, which begins thusi

5 Alberti has imitated this ode; and Capilupus, in the folΟινος τοι χαριεντι μεγας πελει ιπτος αοιδα,

lowing epigram, has given a version of it:-
Υδως δε πινων, καλον ου τικoις ετος.

Cur, Lalage, mea vita, meos contemnis amores?
If with water you fill up your glasses,

Cur fugis e nostro pulchra puella sinu?
You'll never write any thing wise ;

Ne fugias, sint sparsa licet mea tempora canis,
For wine's the true horse of Parnassus,

Inque tuo roseus fulgeat ore color.
Which carries a bard to the skies!

Aspice ut intextas deceant quoque flore corollas
3 And while tre dance through vernal bowers, &c.) If some Candida purpureis lilia mista rosis.
of the translators had observed Doctor Trapp's caution,

Oh! why repel my soul's impassion'd row, with regard to to værberiv h'wv augais, “Cave ne cælum in

And fly, beloved maid, these longing arms ? telligas,” they would not have spoiled the simplicity of

Is it, that wintry time has strew'd my brow, Anacreon's fancy, by such extravagant conceptions as the

While thine are all the summer's roseate charms? following: Quand je bois, mon qil s'imagine

See the rich garland cull'd in vernal weather, Que, dans un tourbillon plein de parfums divers,

Where the young rosebud with the lily glows; Bacchus m'emporte dans les airs,

So, in Love's wreath we both may twine together, Rempli de sa liqueur divine.

And I the lily be, and thou the rose.

And there's an end — for ah, you know
They drink but little wine below ! 4

See, in yonder flowery braid,
Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid, '
How the rose, of orient glow,
Mingles with the lily's snow ;
Mark, how sweet their tints agree,
Just, my girl, like thee and me!



Away, away, ye men of rules,
What have I to do with schools ?
They'd make me learn, they'd make me think,
But would they make me love and drink ?
Teach me this, and let me swim
My soul upon the goblet's brim;
Teach me this, and let me twine
Some fond, responsive heart to mine, 3
For, age begins to blanch my brow,
I've time for nought but pleasure now.

WHEN I behold the festive train
Of dancing youth, I'm young again!
Memory wakes her magic trance,
And wings me lightly through the dance.
Come, Cybeba, smiling maid !
Cull the flower and twine the braid;
Bid the blush of summer's rose
Burn upon my forehead's snows ;5
And let me, while the wild and young
Trip the mazy dance along,
Fling my heap of years away,
And be as wild, as young, as they.
Hither haste, some cordial soul !
Help to my lips the brimming bowl ;
And you shall see this hoary sage
Forget at once his locks and age.
He still can chant the festive hymn,
He still can kiss the goblet's brim; 6
As deeply quaff, as largely fill,
And play the fool right nobly still.

Fly, and cool my goblet's glow
At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink
This soul to slumber as I drink.
Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
You'll deck your master's grassy grave;

1 See, in yonder flowery braid,

E m'insegni con piu rare Culld for thee, my blushing maid!] " In the same

Forme accorte d' involare manner that Anacreon pleads for the whiteness of his locks,

Ad amabile beltade from the beauty of the colour in garlands, a shepherd, in

Il bel cinto d'onestade. Theocritus, endeavours to recommend his black hair : - 4 And there's an end for ah, you know

They drink but little wine below ! ] Thus Mainard :Και το ιον μελαν εστι, και α γραπτα υακινθος,

La Mort nous guette; et quand ses lois
Αλλ' ' εμτας εν τοις στεφανους τα πρώτα λεγονται."
Longepierre, Barnes, &c.

Nous ont enfermés une fois

Au sein d'une fosse profonde, 1 - This is doubtless the work of a more modern poet than

Adieu bons vins et bon repas; Anacreon ; for at the period when he lived rhetoricians were

Ma science ne trouve pas Dot known." - Degen.

Des cabarets en l'autre monde. Though this ode is found in the Vatican manuscript, I am

From Mainard, Gombauld, and De Cailly, old French much inclined to agree in this argument against its authen

poets, some of the best epigrams of the English language ticity; for though the dawnings of the art of rhetoric might have been borrowed. already have appeared, the first who gave it any celebrity

5 Bid the blush of summer's rose was Corax of Syracuse, and he flourished in the century after

Burn upon my forehead's snows ; &c.] Licetus, in his Aracreon.

Our poet anticipated the ideas of Epicurus, in his aversion Hieroglyphica, quoting two of our poet's odes, where he calls to the labours of learning, as well as his devotion to volup-foreas coronas poetis et potantibus in symposio convenire,

to his attendants for garlands, remarks, “ Constat igitur tuousness. Πασαν ταιδειαν μακαριοι φευγετε, said the philoso

non autem sapientibus et philosophiam affectantibus." — “ It pber of the garden in a letter to Pythocles.

appears that wreaths of flowers were adapted for poets and * Teach me this, and let me twine

revellers at banquets, but by no means became those who had Some fond, responsive heart to mine.] By xerons Apeo- pretensions to wisdom and philosophy.” On this principle, demes here, I understand some beautiful girl, in the same

in his 152d chapter, he discovers a refinement in Virgil, manner that Ayoles is often used for wine. “Golden” is describing the garland of the poet Silenus, as fallen off; frequently an epithet of beauty. Thus in Virgil,

" Venus

which distinguishes, he thinks, the divine intoxication of aurea ; " and in Propertius, "Cynthia aurea." Tibullus, Silenus from that of common drunkards, who always wear bowever, calls an old woman "golden."

their crowns while they drink. Such is the “labor ineptiThe translation d'Autori Anonimi, as usual, wantons on

arum” of commentators! this passage of Anacreon:

6 He still can kiss the goblet's brim; &c.] Wine is pre


METHINKS, the pictur'd bull we see
Is amorous Jove - it must be he!
How fondly blest he seems to bear
That fairest of Phænician fair!
How proud he breasts the foamy tide,
And spurns the billowy surge aside!
Could any beast of vulgar vein
Undaunted thus defy the main?
No : he descends from climes above,
He looks the God, he breathes of Jove ! 2

Whose breath perfumes th’ Olympian bowers;
Whose virgin blush, of chasten'd dye,
Enchants so much our mortal eye.
When pleasure's spring-tide season glows,
The Graces love to wreathe the rose ;
And Venus, in its fresh-blown leaves, 5
An emblem of herself perceives.
Oft hath the poet's magic tongue
The rose's fair luxuriance sung ; 6
And long the Muses, heavenly maids,
Have reard it in their tuneful shades.
When, at the early glance of morn,
It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,
'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,
To cull the timid flow'ret thence,
And wipe with tender hand away
The tear that on its blushes lay!
'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems,
Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,


WHILE we invoke the wreathed spring,
Resplendent rose ! to thee we'll sing : 4

scribed by Galen, as an excellent medicine for old men : Again these longing arms infold thee, " Quod frigidos et humoribus expletos calefaciat, &c. ;" but

Again, my rose, again I hold thee. Nature was Anacreon's physician.

This, like most of the terms of endearment in the modern There is a proverb in Eriphus, as quoted by Athenæus,

Latin poets, is taken from Plautus ; they were vulgar and which says, “ that wipe makes an old man dance, whether he colloquial in his time, but are among the elegancies of the will or not."

modern Latinists. Λογος ιστ’ αρχαιος, ου κακως εχων,

Passeratius alludes to the ode before us, in the beginning of Οινον λεγουσι τους γέροντας, ω πατίς,

his poem on the Rose: Πειθειν χορεειν ου θελοντας. .

Carmine digna rosa est ; vellem caneretur ut illam 1 “This ode is written upon a picture which represented

Teius argutá cecinit testudine vates. the rape of Europa."- Madame Dacier. It may probably have been a description of one of those

4 Resplendent rose! 10 thee we'll sing ;] I have passed coins, which the Sidonians struck off in honour of Europa, over the line our itasess avis uehty, which is corrupt in this representing a woman carried across the sea by a bull. Thus original reading, and has been very little improved by the

annotators. Natalis Comes, lib. viii. cap. 23. “ Sidonii numismata cum

I should suppose it to be an interpolation, if it fæmina tauri dorso insidente ac mare transfretante cuderunt

were not for a line which occurs afterwards : ose dy porn

λεγμέν. . in ejus honorem ” In the little treatise upon the goddess of Syria, attributed very falsely to Lucian, there is mention of 5 And Venus, in its fresh-blown leaves, &c.) Belleau, in a this coin, and of a temple dedicated by the Sidonians to uote upon an old French poet, quoting the original here Astarté, whom some, it appears, confounded with Europa. xocodria calupur, translates it, “ comme les délices et

The poet Moschus has left a very beautiful idyl on the story mignardises de Venus." of Europa.

6 Oft hath the poet's magic tongue 9 No: he descends from climes above,

The rose's fair lururiance sung ; &c.) The following is He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!) Thus Mos.

a fragment of the Lesbian poetess. It is cited in the romance chus:

of Achilles Tatius, who appears to have resolved the numbers Κρυψε 9εον και τριψε δεμας και γινετο ταυρος.

into prose. Ει τους ανθεσιν ηθελιν ο Ζευς επιθειναι βασιλεα, το The God forgot himself, his heaven, for love,

ροδον αν των ανθεων εδασιλενε. γης εστι κοσμος, φυτων αγλαισμα, And a bull's form belied th' almighty Jove.

οφθαλμος ανθεων, λειμώνος ερυθημα, καλλος αστεαττον. Ερωτος 3 This ode is a brilliant panegyric on the rose.

“All an.

Ονει, Αφροδιτην προξενεί, ευειδισι φυλλους κομά, ευκίνητεις σεταtiquity (says Barnes) has produced nothing more beautiful." λοις τρυφα. το πεταλον τω Ζεφυρα γιλά. From the idea of peculiar excellence, which the ancients

If Jove would give the leafy bowers attached to this flower, arose a pretty proverbial expression,

A queen for all their world of flowers, used by Aristophanes, according to Suidas, podce ke' ueritas,

The rose would be the choice of Jove, “ You have spoken roses," a phrase somewhat similar to the

And blush, the queen of every grove. “ dire des fleurettes" of the French. In the same idea of ex

Sweetest child of weeping morning, cellence originated, I doubt not, a very curious application of

Gem, the vest of earth adorning, the word podov, for which the inquisitive reader may consult

Eye of gardens, light of lawns, Gaulminus upon the epithalamium of our poet, where it is

Nursling of soft summer dawns; introduced in the romance of Theodorus. Muretus, in one

Love's own earliest sigh it breathes, of his elegies, calls his mistress his rose:

Beauty's brow with lustre wreathes, Jam te igitur rursus teneo, formosula, jam te

And, to young Zephyr's warm caresses, (Quid trepidas ?) teneo ; jam, rosa, te teneo. Eleg. 8.

Spreads abroad its verdant tresses,
Now I again may clasp thee, dearest,

Till, blushing with the wanton's play,
What is there now, on earth, thou fearest ?

Its cheek wears ev'n a richer ray !

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