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Let those who pant for glory's charms

Who, with the sunshine of the bowl, Embrace her in the field of arms;

Thaws the winter of our soul; While my inglorious, placid soul

When to my inmost core he glides, Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.

And bathes it with his ruby tides, Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,

A flow of joy, a lively heat, And bathe me in its honied wave!

Fires my brain, and wings my feet! For, though my fading years decay,

'T is surely something sweet, I think, And though my bloom has pass'd away,

Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink! Like old Silenus, sire divine,

Sing, sing of love, let Music's breath With blushes borrow'd from my wine,

Softly beguile our rapturous death, I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,

While, my young Venus, thou and I
And live my follies all again!

To the voluptuous cadence die!
Then, waking from our languid trance,

Again we'll sport, again we 'll dance.
ODE XLVII.
When my thirsty soul I steep,
Every sorrow 's lull’d to sleep.

ODE L.
Talk of monarchs! I am then

When I drink, I feel, I feel Richest, happiest, first of men;

Visions of poetic zeal! Careless o'er my cup I sing,

Warm with the goblet's freshening dews, Fancy makes me more than king;

My heart invokes the heavenly Muse. Gives me wealthy Cræsus' store,

When I drink, my sorrow 's o'er ; Can I, can I wish for more ?

I think of doubts and fears no more ; On my velvet couch reclining,

But scatter to the railing wind Ivy leaves my brow entwining,

Each gloomy phantom of the mind ! While my soul dilates with glee,

When I drink, the jesting boy, What are kings and crowns to me?

Bacchus himself, partakes my joy; If before my feet they lay,

And, while we dance through breathing bowers, I would

spurn
them all away!

Whose every gale is rich with flowers,
Arm you, arm you, men of might,
Hasten to the sanguine fight-
Let me, oh, my budding vine !

Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,

Thaws the winter of our soul.] Auzios is the title which Spill no other blood than thine.

he gives to Bacchus in the original. It is a curious circumYonder brimming goblet see,

stance, that Plutarch mistook the name of Levi among the That alone shall vanquish me;

Jews for Asus (one of the bacchanal cries,) and accordingly

supposed they worshipped Bacchus. Oh! I think it sweeter far To fall in banquet than in war!

1 Faber thinks this spurious; but, I believe, he is singular in his opinion. It has all the spirit of our author. Like the wreath which he presented in the dream," it smells of Anacreon."

The form of this ode, in the original, is remarkable. It ODE XLIX.?

is a kind of song of seven quatrain stanzas, each beginning

with the line WHEN Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,

Or' sgu W16O TOV OIVON, The rosy harbinger of joy,

The first stanza alone is incomplete, consisting but of three lines.

“Compare with this poem (says Degen) the verses of proverb is mentioned in some verses quoted by Athenæus, Hagedorn, lib. v. der Wein, where that divine poet has from the Hesione of Alexis.

wantoned in the praises of wine." The only thyrsus e'er I'll ask!] Phornutus assigns as a When I drink, I feel, I feel reason for the consecration of the thyrsus to Bacchus, that Visions of poetic zeal !) “Anacreon is not the only one inebriety often renders the support of a stick very necessary. (says Longepierre) whom wine has inspired with poetry.

Ivy leaves my brow entwining, etc.) “The ivy was con- There is an epigram in the first book of the Anthologia, secrated to Bacchus (says Montfaucon,) because he formerly which begins thus: lay bid under that tree, or, as others will have it, because its leaves resemble those of the vine. Other reasons for its

Οινος τοι χαριεντι μεγας τελει ιππος αοιδω, consecration, and the use of it in garlands at banquets, may

Υδωρ δε σινων, καλον ου τεκoις επος." be found in Longepierre, Barnes, etc. etc.

If with water you fill up your glasses, Arm you, arm you, men of might,

You'll never write any thing wise;

For wine is the horse of Parnassus, Hasten to the sanguine fight. I have adopted the inter

Which hurries a bard to the skies! pretation of Regnier and others: Altri segua Marte fero;

And, while we dance through breathing bowers, etc.] If Che sol Bacco è 'l mio conforto.

some of the translators had observed Doctor Trapp's cau1 This, the preceding ode, and a few more of the same

tion, with regard to woqveva scot H ev ceupos,“ Cave ne cecharacter, are inerely chansons à boire. Most likely they lum intelligas,” they would not have spoiled the simplicity were the effusions of the moment of conviviality, and were of Anacreon's fancy, by such extravagant conceptions of sung, we imagine, with rapture in Greece; but that interest the passage. Could our poet imagine such bombast as the ing association, by which they always recalled the convivial following: emotions that produced them, can be very little felt by the Quand je bois, mon œil s'imagine most enthusiastic reader; and much less by a phlegmatic Que, dans un tourbillon plein de parfums divers, grammarian, who sees nothing in them but dialects and Bacchus m'emporte dans les airs, particles.

Rempli de sa liqueur divine.

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In bowls he makes my senses swim,
Till the gale breathes of nought but him!
When I drink, I deftly twine
Flowers, begemm'd with tears of wine;
And, while with festive hand I spread
The smiling garland round my head,
Something whispers in my breast,
How sweet it is to live at rest!
When I drink, and perfume stills
Around me all in balmy rills,
Then as some beauty, smiling roses,
In languor on my breast reposes,
Venus! I breathe my vows to thee,
In many a sigh of luxury!

When I drink, my heart refines,
And rises as the cup declines,-
Rises in the genial flow

That none but social spirits know,
When youthful revellers, round the bowl,
Dilating, mingle soul with soul!
When I drink, the bliss is mine,—
There's bliss in every drop of wine!
All other joys that I have known,
I've scarcely dared to call my own;
But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,
Till Death o'ershadows all my joy!

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!

ODE LII.'

AWAY, away, you 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
My arms around the nymph divine!
Age begins to blanch my brow,
I've time for nought but pleasure now.
Fly, and cool my goblet's glow
At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
I'll quaff, my boy, and calmy sink
This soul to slumber as I drink!
Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
You'll deck your master's grassy grave;
And there's an end-for ah! you know,
They drink but little wine below!

ODE LI.'

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

Or this:

Indi mi mena

Mentre lietro ebro deliro

Baccho in giro

Per la vaga aura serena.

When youthful revellers, round the bowl, Dilating, mingle soul with soul!] Subjoined to Gail's edition of Anacreon, there are some curious letters upon the x of the ancients, which appeared in the French Journals. At the opening of the Odeon, in Paris, the managers of the spectacle requested Professor Gail to give them some uncommon name for the fêtes of this institution. He suggested the word "Thiase," which was adopted; but the literati of Paris questioned the propriety of it, and addressed their criticisms to Gail, through the medium of the public prints. Two or three of the letters he has inserted in his edition, and they have elicited from him some learned research on the subject.

1 Alberti has imitated this ode; and Capilupus, in the following epigram, has given a version of it:

Cur, Lalage, mea vita, meos contemnis amores?
Cur fugis e nostra pulchra puella sinu?
Ne fugias, sint sparsa licet mea tempora canis,
Inque tuo roseus fulgeat ore color.
Aspice ut intextas deceant quoque flore corollas
Candida purpureis lilia mixta rosis.

Oh! why repel my soul's impassion'd vow,
And fly, beloved maid, these longing arms?
Is it, that wintry time has strew'd my brow,
And thine are all the summer's roseate charms?

See the rich garland, cull'd in vernal weather,
Where the young rosebud with the lily glows;
In wreaths of love we thus may twine together,
And I will be the lily, thou the rose !

ODE LIII.

WHEN I behold the festive train

Of dancing youth, I'm young again!

See in yonder flowery braid,

Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid!] "In the same manner that Anacreon pleads for the whiteness of his locks, from the beauty of the colour in garlands, a shepherd, in Theocritus, endeavours to recommend his black hair:

Και το τον μελαν εστι, και α γραπτα υακινθος
Αλλ' έμπας εν τοις στεφάνοις τα πρωτα λεγονται.”

Longepierre, Barnes, etc.

1 This is doubtless the work of a more modern poet than Anacreon; for at the period when he lived, rhetoricians were not known."-Degen.

Though the antiquity of this ode is confirmed by the Vatican manuscript, I am very much inclined to agree in this argument against its authenticity; for, though the dawnings of rhetoric might already have appeared, the first who gave it any celebrity was Corax of Syracuse, and he flourished in the century after Anacreon.

Our poet anticipated the ideas of Epicurus, in his aversion to the labours of learning, as well as his devotion to voluptuousness. Πασαν παιδείαν μακαριοι φευγετε, said the philosopher of the garden in a letter to Pythocles.

Teach me this, and let me twine

My arms around the nymph divine!] By xpvons AppoSrns here, I understand some beautiful girl; in the same manner that Avalos is often used for wine. "Golden" is frequently an epithet of beauty. Thus in Virgil, "Venus aurea;" ;" and in Propertius, "Cynthia aurea." Tibullus, however, calls an old woman "golden."

The translation d'Autori Anonimi, as usual, wantons on this passage of Anacreon:

E m' insegni con piu rare
Forme accorte d' involare
Ad amabile beltade

Il bel cinto d' onestade.

And there's an end-for ah! you know,

They drink but little wine below!] Thus the witty Mainard:

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Memory wakes her tragic 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 brow of snows;

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!
Give my lips the brimming bowl;
Oh! you will see this hoary sage
Forget his locks, forget his age.
He still can chaunt the festive hymn,
He still can kiss the goblet's brim;
He still can act the mellow raver,
And play the fool as sweet as ever!

ODE LIV.

METHINKS, the pictured bull we see
Is amorous Jove-it must be he!
How fondly blest he seems to bear
That fairest of Phoenician 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 ?

La Mort nous guette; et quand ses lois
Nous ont enfermés une fois

Au sein d'une fosse profonde,
Adieu bons vins et bons repas,
Ma science ne trouve pas

Des cabarets en l'autre monde.

From Mainard, Gombauld, and De Cailly, old French poets, some of the best epigrams of the English language are borrowed.

Bid the blush of summer's rose

Burn upon my brow of snows, etc.] Licetus, in his Hieroglyphica, quoting two of our poet's odes, where he calls for garlands, remarks, "Constat igitur floreas coronas poetis et potantibus in symposio convenire, non autem sapientibus et philosophiam affectantibus." "It appears that wreaths of flowers were adapted for poets and revellers at banquets, but by no means became those who had pretensions to wisdom and philosophy." On this principle, in his 152d chapter, he discovers a refinement in Virgil, describing the garland of the poet Silenus as fallen off; which distinguishes, he thinks, the divine intoxication of Silenus from that of common drunkards, who always wear their crowns while they drink. This, indeed, is the "labor ineptiarum" of commentators.

He still can kiss the goblet's brim, etc.] Wine is prescribed by Galen as an excellent medicine for old men: "Quod frigidos et humoribus expletos calefaciat," etc.; but Nature was Anacreon's physician.

There is a proverb in Eriphus, as quoted by Athenæus, which says, "that wine makes an old man dance, whether he will or not."

Λογος εστ' αρχαιος, ου κακως έχων,

Οινον λεγουσι τους γεροντας, ω πατερα
Πείθειν χορεειν ου θέλοντας

1 "This ode is written upon a picture which represented the rape of Europa."-Madame Dacier.

It may perhaps be considered as a description of one of those coins, which the Sidonians struck off in honour of Europa, representing a woman carried across the sea by a bull. Thus Natalis Comes, lib. viii. cap. 23. “ Sidonii numismata cum fœmina auri dorso insidente ac mare transfretante, cuderunt in s honorem." In the little treatise upon the goddess of fyria, attributed very fulsely to Lucian,

No: he descends from climes above, He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!

ODE LV.1

WHILE we invoke the wreathed spring,
Resplendent rose! to thee we 'll sing;
Resplendent rose! the flower of flowers,
Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers;
Whose virgin blush, of chasten'd dye,
Enchants so much our mortal eye.
When Pleasure's bloomy season glows,
The Graces love to twine the rose;

The rose is warm Dione's bliss,
And flushes like Dione's kiss!
Oft has the poet's magic tongue
The rose's fair luxuriance sung;

there is mention of this coin, and of a temple dedicated by the Sidonians to Astarte, whom some, it appears, confounded with Europa.

Moschus has written a very beautiful idyl on the story of Europa.

No: he descends from climes above,

He looks the God, he breathes of Jove.] Thus Moschus:
Κρυψε θεον και τρεψε δεμας και γίνετο ταύρος.

The God forgot himself, his heaven for love,
And a bull's form belied the almighty Jove.

"All an

1 This ode is a brilliant panegyric on the rose. tiquity (says Barnes) has produced nothing more beautiful." From the idea of peculiar excellence which the ancients attached to this flower, arose a pretty proverbial expression used by Aristophanes, according to Suidas, pode se2 εxxxzs, "You have spoken roses,' a phrase somewhat similar to the "dire des fleurettes" of the French. In the same idea of excellence originated, I doubt not, a very curious application of the word podov, for which the inquisitive reader may consult Gaulminus upon the epithalamium of our poet, where it is introduced in the romance of Theodorus. Muretus, in one of his elegies, calls his mistress his rose: Jam te igitur rursus teneo, formosula, jam te (Quid trepidas ?) teneo; jam, rosa, te teneo.

Now I again embrace thee, dearest,
(Tell me, wanton, why thou fearest?)
Again my longing arms infold thee,
Again, my rose, again I hold thee.

Eleg. 8.

This, like most of the terms of endearment in the modern

Latin poets, is taken from Plautus; they were vulgar and colloquial in his time, and they are among the elegancies of the modern Latinists.

Passeratius alludes to the ode before us, in the beginning of his poem on the Rose:

Carmine digna rosa est; vellem caneretur ut illam
Teius arguta cecinit testudine vates.

Resplendent rose! to thee we'll sing.] I have passed over the line UV STRIPE DUŽEL μsy; it is corrupt in this original reading, and has been very little improved by the annotators. I should suppose it to be an interpolation, if it were not for a line which occurs afterwards. φέρε δή φυσιν v.

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The rose is warm Dione's bliss, etc.] Belleau, in a note upon an old French poet, quoting the original here Talupux, translates it, "comme les délices et mignardises de Vénus."

Oft has the poet's magic tongue

Ζευς

The rose's fair luxuriance sung, etc.] The following is a fragment of the Lesbian poetess. It is cited in the romance of Achilles Tatius, who appears to have resolved the numbers into prose. Ει τοις ανθεσιν ήθελεν ο επιθείναι βασιλέα, το ροδον αν των ανθέων εβασίλευε, γης εστι κόσμος, φυτών αγλαισμα, οφθαλμος ανθεων, λειμώνος sputnμx, xxλños ασтρAπTOV. Έρωτος πνει, Αφροδίτην wρoževel, SVEISEO QUAλ015 20μx, EUNIUNTOIS τρυφα, το πέταλον το Ζεφύρω γελά.

πετάλοις

And long the Muses, heavenly maids,
Have rear'd 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!
"T is sweet to hold the infant stems,
Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,
And fresh inhale the spicy sighs
That from the weeping buds arise.
When revel reigns, when mirth is high,
And Bacchus beams in every eye,
Our rosy fillets scent exhale,

And fill with balm the fainting gale!
Oh, there is nought in nature bright,
Where roses do not shed their light!
When morning paints the orient skies,
Her fingers burn with roseate dyes;
The nymphs display the rose's charms,
It mantles o'er their graceful arms;
Through Cytherea's form it glows,
And mingles with the living snows.
The rose distils a healing balm,
The beating pulse of pain to calm;
Preserves the cold inurned clay,
And mocks the vestige of decay:

If Jove would give the leafy bowers
A queen for all their world of flowers,
The rose would be the choice of Jove
And blush the queen of every grove.
Sweetest child of weeping morning,
Gem, the vest of earth adorning,
Eye of flow'rets, glow of lawns,
Bud of beauty nursed by dawns:
Soft the soul of love it breathes,
Cypria's brow with magic wreathes,
And, to the Zephyr's warm caresses,
Diffuses all its verdant tresses,

Till, glowing with the wanton's play,
It blushes a diviner ray!

When morning paints the orient skies,

Her fingers burn with roseat dyes, etc.] In the original here, he enumerates the many epithets of beauty, borrowed from roses, which were used by the poets, waрa Twv σoov. We see that poets were dignified in Greece with the title of sages; even the careless Anacreon, who lived but for love and voluptuousness, was called by Plato the wise Anacreon. Fuit hæc sapientia quondam.

Preserves the cold inurned clay, etc.] He here alludes to the use of the rose in embalming; and, perhaps (as Barnes thinks,) to the rosy unguent with which Venus anointed the corpse of Hector. Homer's Iliad. . It may likewise regard the ancient practice of putting garlands of roses on the dead, as in Statius, Theb. lib. x. 782.

hi sertis, hi veris honore soluto Accumulant artus patriaque in sede reponunt Corpus odoratum.

Where "veris honor," though it mean every kind of flowers, may seem more particularly to refer to the rose, which our poet, in another ode, calls Expos MEXиμa. We read, in the Hieroglyphics of Pierius, lib. lv. that some of the ancients used to order in their wills, that roses should be annually scattered on their tombs; and he has adduced some sepulchral inscriptions to this purpose.

And mocks the vestige of decay.] When he says that this flower prevails over time itself, he still alludes to its efficacy in embalment (tenera poneret ossa rosa. Propert. lib. i. eleg. 17,) or perhaps to the subsequent idea of its fragrance surviving its beauty; for he can scarcely mean to praise for duration the "nimium breves flores" of the rose. Philostratus compares this flower with love, and says, that they both defy the influence of time; xpovov de OUTS Epws, OUTE poda odev. Unfortunately the similitude lics not in their duration, but their transience.

And when, at length, in pale decline, Its florid beauties fade and pine, Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath Diffuses odour e'en in death!

Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung?
Attend-for thus the tale is sung.
When, humid, from the silvery stream,
Effusing beauty's warmest beam,
Venus appear'd, in flushing hues,
Mellow'd by Ocean's briny dews;
When, in the starry courts above,
The pregnant brain of mighty Jove
Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,
The nymph who shakes the martial lance!
Then, then, in strange eventful hour,
The earth produced an infant flower,
Which sprung, with blushing tinctures dress'd,
And wanton'd o'er its parent breast.

The gods beheld this brilliant birth,
And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth!
With nectar drops, a ruby tide,
The sweetly orient buds they dyed,
And bade them bloom, the flowers divine
Of him who sheds the teeming vine;
And bade them on the spangled thorn
Expand their bosoms to the morn.

ODE LVI.'

HE, who instructs the youthful crew To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,

Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath

Diffuses odour e'en in death.] Thus Caspar Barlæus, in his Ritus Nuptiarum:

Ambrosium late rosa tunc quoque spargit odorem,
Cum fluit, aut multo languida sole jacet.

Nor then the rose its odour loses,
When all its flushing beauties die;
Nor less ambrosial balm diffuses,
When wither'd by the solar eye!
With nectar drops, a ruby tide,

The sweetly orient buds they dyed, etc.] The author of the "Pervigilium Veneris" (a poem attributed to Catullus, the style of which appears to me to have all the laboured luxuriance of a much later period) ascribes the tincture of the rose to the blood from the wound of Adonis

rosa

Fuse aprino de cruore

according to the emendation of Lipsius. In the following epigram this hue is differently accounted for:

Illa quidem studiosa suum defendere Adonim,
Gradivus stricto quem petit ense ferox,
Affixit duris vestigia caca rosetis,
Albaque divino picta cruore rosa est.

While the enamour'd queen of joy
Flies to protect her lovely boy,

On whom the jealous war-god rushes;
She treads upon a thorned rose,

And while the wound with crimson flows,

The snowy flowret feels her blood, and blushes!

1 "Compare with this elegant ode the verses of Uz, lib i. die Weinlese."-Degen.

This appears to be one of the hymns which were sung at the anniversary festival of the vintage; one of the s vavo, as our poet himself terms them in the fifty-ninth ode. We cannot help feeling a peculiar veneration for these relics of the religion of antiquity. Horace may be supposed to have written the nineteenth ode of his second book, and the twenty-fifth of the third, for some bacchanalian celebration of this kind.

And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses,
All the bliss that wine possesses !
He, who inspires the youth to glance
In winged circlets through the dance !
Bacchus, the god, again is here,
And leads along the blushing year;
The blushing year with rapture teems,
Ready to shed those cordial streams
Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,
Illuminate the sons of earth;
And when the ripe and vermil wine,
Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,
Which now in mellow clusters swells,
Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,
The heavenly stream shall mantling flow,
To balsam every mortal woe!
No youth shall then be wan or weak,
For dimpling health shall light the cheek;
No heart shall then desponding sigh,
For wine shall bid despondence fly!
Thus—till another autumn's glow
Shall bid another vintage flow!

Lie faintly glowing, half-conceal'd,
Within the lucid billows veilld.
Light as the leaf that summer's breeze
Has wafled o'er the glassy seas,
She floats upon the ocean's breast,
Which undulates in sleepy rest,
And stealing on, she gently pillows
Her bosom on the amorous billows.
Her bosom, like the humid rose,
Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,
Illume the liquid path she traces,
And burn within the stream's embraces!
In languid luxury soft she glides,
Encircled by the azure tides,
Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,
Upon a bed of violets sleeping !
Beneath their queen's inspiring glance,
The dolphins o'er the green sea dance,
Bearing in triumph young Desire,
And baby Love with smiles of fire !
While, sparkling on the silver waves,
The enants of the briny caves
Around the pomp in eddies play,
And gleam along the watery way.

ODE LVII.
And whose immortal hand could shed

ODE LVIII.
Upon this disk the ocean's bed?

When gold, as fleet as Zephyr's pinion, And, in a frenzied flight of soul,

Escapes like any faithless minion, Sublime as Heaven's eternal pole,

And flies me (as he Áies me ever,)
Imagine thus, in semblance warm,

Do I pursue him ? never, never!
The Queen of Love's voluptuous form,
Floating along the silvery sea

sion ought to be; glowing but through a veil, and stealing

upon the heart from concealment. Few of the ancients In beauty's naked majesty ?

have attained this modesty of description, which is like the Oh! he has given the raptured sight

golden cloud that hung over Jupiter and Juno, impervious A witching banquet of delight;

to every beam but that of fancy. And all those sacred scenes of Love,

Her bosom, like the humid rosc, etc.) “Pwdswv (says an Where only hallowed eyes may rove,

anonymous annotator) is a whimsical epithet for the bosom." Neither Catullus nor Gray have been of his opinion. The

former has the expression, Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,

En hic in roseis latet papillis. Illuminate the sons of earth!] In the original WOTOV

And the latter, αστoνoν κομιξων. Madame Dacier thinks that the poet here had the nepenthé of Homer in his mind. Odyssey,

Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd hours, etc. lib. iv. This nepenthé was a something of exquisite charm,

Crottus, a modern Latinist, might indeed be censured for infused by Helen into the wine of her guests, which had the too vague'an use of the epithet “ rosy,” when he applies it power of dispelling every anxiety. A French writer, with

to the eyes:

"e roseis oculis." very elegant gallantry, conjectures that this spell, which made the bowl so beguiling, was the charm of Helen's con

young Desire, etc.] In the original "Ipspos, versation. See de Meré, quoted by Bayle, art. Helène.

who was the same deity with Jocus among the Romans.

Aurelius Augurellus has a poem beginning 1 This ode is a very animated description of a picture of Venus on a discus, which presented the goddess in her first

Invitat olim Bacchus ad cenam suos emergence from the waves. About two centuries after our

Comon, Jocum, Cupidinem. poet wrote, the pencil of the artist Apelles embellished this

Which Parnell has closely imitated : subject, in his famous painting of the Venus Anadyomené, the model of which, as Pliny informs us, was the beautiful Gay Bacchus, liking Estcourt's wine, Campaspe, given to him by Alexander; though, according

A noble meal bespoke us; to Natalis Comes, lib. vii. cap. 16, it was Phryne who sat to

And, for the guests that were to dine, Apelles for the face and breast of this Venus.

Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus, etc. There are a few blemishes in the reading of the ode be

1 I have followed Barnes's arrangement of this ode; it defore us, which have influenced Faber, Heyne, Brunck, etc. viates somewhat from the Vatican MS. but it appeared to to denounce the whole poem as spurious. Non ego paucis me the more natural order. offendar maculis. I think it is beautiful enough to be authentic.

When gold, as fleet as Zephyr's pinion,

Escapes like any faithless, minion, etc.) In the original And whose immortal hand could shed

ο δραπετας ο χρυσος. There is a kind of pun in these Upon this disk the ocean's bed?] The abruptness of words, as Madame Dacier has already remarked; for Chryape Tos TopEUCE JOntov, is finely expressive of sudden sos, which signifies gold, was also a frequent name for a admiration, and is one of those beauties which we cannot slave. In one of Lucian's dialogues, there is, I think, a but admire in their source, though, by frequent imitation, similar play upon the word, where the followers of Chrythey are now become languid and unimpressive.

sippus are called golden fishes. The puns of the ancients And all those sacred scenes of love,

are, in general, even more vapid than our own , some of Where only hallow'd eyes may rove, etc.) The picture the best are those recorded of Diogenes. here has all the delicate character of the semi-reducta Ve- And flies me (as he flies me ever,) etc.) Asi s', est pas nus, and is the sweetest emblem of what the poetry of pas-peugen

This grace of iteration has already been taken

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