Billeder på siden
PDF
ePub

τηγαι δ'

I give are imputed to Antipater Sidonius. They are Ουδ' Αϊδης σοι ερωτας απεσβεσεν εν δ' Αχεροντος rendered, perhaps, with too much freedom ; but, de- Ων, όλος ωδινεις Κυπριοι θερμοτερη. signing a translation of all that are on the subject, I

HERE sleeps Anacreon, in this ivied shade; imagined it was necessary to enliven their uniformity

Here, mute in death, the Teian swan is laid. hy sometimes indulging in the liberties of paraphrase.

Cold, cold the heart, which lived but to respire
All the voluptuous frenzy of desire !

And yet, oh bard! thou art not mute in death,
Αντιπατρου Σιδωνιου, εις Ανακρέοντα.

Still, still we catch thy lyre's delicious breath; ΘΑΛΛΟΙ τετρακoρυμβος, Ανακρεον, αμφι σε κισσος

And still thy songs of soft Bathylla bloom, άβρα τε λειμωνων πορφυρεων πεταλα:

Green as the ivy round the mouldering tomb! αργινοεντος αναθλιβoιντο γαλακτος,

Nor yet has death obscured thy fire of love, ευωδες δ' απο γης ήδυ χεοιτο μεθυ,

Still, still it lights thee through the Elysian grove: φρα κε τοι σποδιη τε και οστα τερψιν αρηται,

And dreams are thine that bless the elect alone, ει δε τις φθιμένοις χριμπτεται ευφροσυνα,

And Venus calls thee, even in death, her own! ο το φιλον σερξας, φιγε, βαρβιτον, ω συν αοιδα

παντα διαπλωσας και συν ερωτι βιον. 'AROUND the tomb, oh bard divine!

Του αυτου, εις τον αυτον. Where soft thy hallow'd brow reposes, ,

ΞΕΙΝΕ, ταφον παρα λιτον Ανακρειoντoς αμειβων Long may the deathless ivy twine,

Ετ τι τοι εκ βιβλων ηλθεν εμων οφελος, And Summer pour her waste of roses !

Σπεισον εμη σπoδιη, σπεισον γανος, οφρα κεν οινη

Οξεα γηθησε ταμα νοτιζομενα, And many a fount shall there distil,

Ως ο Διονυσου μεμελημενος ουασε κωμος And many a rill refresh the flowers;

Ως ο φιλακρητου συντροφος αρμονιης, But wine shall gush in every rill,

Μηδε καταφθιμενος Βακχου διχα τουτον υπoισω And every fount be milky showers.

Τον γενεη μεροπων χωρον οφειλομενον. Thus, shade of him whom Nature taught

'Ou stranger! if Anacreon's shell To tune his lyre and soul to pleasure,

Has ever taught thy heart to swell
Who gave to love his warmest thought,
Who gave to love his fondest measure!

the Teian swan is laid.) Thus Horace of Piodarı Thus, after death, if spirits feel,

Mulla Dircæum levat aura cycnum. Thou may’st, from odours round thee streaming,

A swan was the hieroglyphical emblem of a post. AnaA pulse of past enjoyment steal,

creon has been called the swan of Teos by another of his And live again in blissful dreaming !

eulogists.

Εν τοις μελιχροις Ιμερο ισι συντροφος
Λυαίος Ανακρέοντα, Τη μον κυκνον,
Εσφηλες υγρη νεκταρος μελη δονη.

Ευγενους, Ανθολογ.
Του αυτου, εις τον αυτον.

God of the grape! thou hast betray'd,
ΤΥΜΒΟΣ Ανακρείοντος. o Τηίος ενθαδε κυκνος

In wine's bewildering dream, Εύδει, χη παιδων ζωροτατη μανιη.

The fairest swan that ever play'd

Along the Muse's stream! Ακμην λειριοεντι μελιζεται αμφι Βαθυλλο

The Teian, nursed with all those honied boys, Ιμερα και κισσου λευκος οδωδε λιθος.

The young Desires, light Loves, and rose-lipp'd Joys ! Still, still we catch thy lyre's delicious breath.] Thus

Simonides, speaking of our poet: 1 Antipater Sidonius, the author of this epigram, lived,

Μολπης δ' ου ληθη μελιτορπιος, αλλ' ετι κεινο according to Vossius, de Poetis Græcis, in the second year

Βαρβιτον ουδε θανων συνασεν ειν αιδη. of the 169th Olympiad. He appears, from what Cicero and

Σιμωνιδου, Ανθολογ. Quintilian have said of him, to have been a kind of improvisatore. See Institut. Orat. lib. x. cap. 7. There is no

Nor yet are all his numbers mute, thing more known respecting this poet, except some parti

Though dark within the tomb he lies ; culars about his illness and death, which are mentioned as

But living still, his amorous lute curious by Pliny and others; and there remain of his works

With sleepless animation sighs! but a few epigrams in the Anthologia, among which are This is the famous Simonides, whom Plato styled “dithose I have selected, upon Anacreon. Those remains vine," though Le Fevre, in his Poétes Grecs, supposes that have been sometimes imputed to another poet (a) of the the epigrams under his name are all falsely imputed. The same name, of whom Vossius gives us the following ac- most considerable of his remains is a satirical poem upon count: “Antipater Thessalonicensis vixit tempore Augusti women, preserved by Stolæus, Yoyos Yuv xixxv. Cæsaris, ut qui saltantem viderit Pyladem, sicut constat ex We may judge from the lines I have just quoted, and the quodam ejus epigrammate Avlonogous, lib. 4. tit. ous Op- import of the epigram before us, that the works of Anacreon

motpodas. At eum ac Bathyllum primos fuisse pantomi- were perfect in the times of Simonides and Antipater. Obmos, ac sub Augusto claruisse, satis notum ex Dione," etc. sopæus, the commentator, here appears to exult in their de

Tho reader, who thinks it worth observing, may find a struction, and telling us they were burned by the bishops strange oversight in Hoffman's quotation of this article from and patriarchs, he adds, "nec sane id necquicquam feceVossius, Lexic. Univers. By the omission of a sentence herunt,” attributing to this outrage an effect which it could has made Vossius assert that the poet Antipater was one never produce. of the first pantomime dancers in Rome.

1 The spirit of Anacreon utters these verses from the Barnes, upon the epigram before us, mentions a version of it by Brodæus, which is not to be found in that commenta-comb, somewhat “ mutatus ab illo," at least in simplicity of tor; but he more than once confounds Brodæus with ano

expression. ther annotator on the Anthologia, Vincentius Obsop@ug,

-If Anacreon's shell who has given a translation of the epigram.

Has ever taught thy heart to swell, etc.) We may guess

from the words εκ βίβλων εμων, that Anacreon was not (a) Pleraquo tamen Thessalonicensi tribuenda videntur. merely a writer of billets-doux, as some French critics have

Brunck. Lectiones et Emendat. I called him. Amongst these, M. Le Fevre, with all his pro

.

With passion's throb or pleasure's sigh, Thy harp, that whisper'd through each lingering nigbt
In pity turn, as wandering nigh,

Now mutely in oblivion sleepeth!
And drop thy goblet's richest tear,
In exquisite libation here !

She, too, for whom that heart profusely shed
So shall my sleeping ashes thrill

The purest nectar of its numbers, With visions of enjoyment still.

She, the young spring of thy desires, has fled, I cannot even in death resign

And with her blest Anacreon slumbers ! The festal joys that once were mine,

Farewell! thou hadst a pulse for every dart When Harmony pursued my ways,

That Love could scatter from his quiver; And Bacchus wanton'd to my lays.

And every woman found in thee a heart, Oh! if delight could charm no more,

Which thou, with all thy soul, didst give her! If all the goblet's bliss were o'er, When Fate had once our doom decreed, lyre" of the bard is not allowed to be silent even after his Then dying would be death indeed!

death. Nor could I think, unblest by wine,

ως ο φιλαχρητος τε και οινοβαρες φιλοχωμος Divinity itself divine!

παννυχιος κρουοι (α) την φιλοπαιδο χελυν.

Σιμωνιδου, εις Ανακρέοντα. To beauty's smile and wine's delight,

To joys he loved on earth so well,

Still shall his spirit, all the night,
Του αυτου, εις τον αυτου.

Attune the wild aerial shell !
ΕΥΔΕΙΣ εν φθιμενοισιν, Ανακρεον, εσθλα πονησας,

She, the young spring of thy desires, etc.) The original,

TO II.S w rep, is beautiful. We regret that such praise είδει δ' ή γλυκερη νυκτιλαλος κιθαρα,

should be lavished so preposterously, and feel that the poet's εύδει και Σαερδις, ο Ποθων εαρ, η συ μελισσων mistress, Eurypyle, would have deserved it better. Her βαρβιτ', ανεκρουου νεκταρ εναρμονιον.

name has been told us by Meleager, as already quoted, and

in another epigram by Antipater. ηίθεου γαρ Ερωτος εφυς σκοπος" ες δε σε μουνον

υγρα δε δερκομένοισιν εν ομμασιν ουλoν αιιδοις, , τοξα τε και σκολιας ειχεν εκηβολιας. ./

αιβυσσων λιπαρες ανθος υπερθε κόμης,

η προς Ευρυπυλην τετραμμενος At length thy golden hours have wing'd their flight, And drowsy death that eyelid steepeth;

Long may the nymph around thee play,

Eurypyle, thy soul's desire !
Basking her beauties in the ray

That lights thine eyes' dissolving fire! fessed admiration, has given our poet a character by no

Sing of her smile's bewitching power, means of an elevated cast:

Her every grace that warms and blesses, Aussi c'est pour cela que la postérité

Sing of her brows luxuriant flower,
L'a toujours justement d'âge en âge chanté

The beaming glory of her tresses.
Comme un franc goguenard, ami de goinfrerie,
Ami de billets-doux et de badinerie.

The expression here, «rS05x02.95," the flower of the hair,"

is borrowed from Anacreon himself, as appears by a fragment See the versos prefixed to his Poètes Grecs. This is un- of the poet preserved in Stobæus: Azexspæs si ex«^46 like the language of Theocritus, to whom Anacreon is in- few peor art06. debted for the following simple eulogium:

The purest nectar of its numbers, etc.). Thus, says
Εις Ανακρέοντος ανδριαντα.

Brunck, in the prologue to the Satires of Persius :
Θασαι τον ανδριάντα τουτον, ο

Cantare credas Pegaseium nectar.
σπουδα, και λιγ', επαν ις οικον ελθης:

“ Melos" is the usual reading in this line, and Casaubon Ανακρέοντος εικον' ιδον εν Τι και,

has defended it; but "nectar," I think, is much mora των προσυτι περισσον ωδοποιων. . τροσθεις δε χωτι τους νερισιν αδετο,

spirited. Τρεις ατρεκι ας όλον τον ανδρα.

Farewell! thou hadst a pulse for every dart, etc.) eur Upon the Statue of Anacreon.

σκοπος, scopus eras natura," not " speculator," as Barnes

very falsely interprets it. Stranger! who noar this statue chance to roam,

Vincentius Obsopeus, upon this passage, contrives to Let it awhile your studious eyes engage:

indulge us with a little astrological wisdom, and talks in a And you may say, returning to your home,

style of learned scandal about Venus, "male posita cum "I've seen the image of the Teian sage,

Marte in domo Saturni."
Best of the bards who deck the Muse's page."
Then, if you add, " That striplings loved him well,”

And every woman found in thee a heart, etc.). This You tell them all'he was, and apuy tell.

couplet is not otherwise warranted by the original, than as

it dilates the thought which Anupater has figuratively exThe simplicity of this inscription has always delighted pressed. me; I have given it, I believe, as literally as a verse trans

Τον δε γυναχιων μελεων πλεξαντα ποτ' ωδας, lation will allow.

Ηδων Ανακροιοντα, (δ) Τε ως τις Ελλαδ' ανηγιο, And drop thy goblet's richest tear, etc.) Thus Simo- Συμποσιων ερεθισμα, γυναικών και περοπευμα, nides, in another of his epitaphs on our poet:

Critias, of Athens, pays a tribute to the legitimate gal Και μιν αει τεγγοι νοτερη δροσος, ης ο γερανος lantry of Anacreon, calling him, with elegant conciseness, Λαροτερον μαλακων επνεεν εκ στοματων.

γυναικων ηπιροπίυμα.
Let vines, in elustering beauty wreathed,

Teos gave to Greece her treasure,
Drop all their treasures on his head,

Sage Anacreon, sage in loving;
Whose lips a dew of sweetness breathed,

Fondly weaving lays of pleasure
Richer than vine hath ever shed !

For the maids who blush'd approving!

Oh! in nightly banquets sporting, And Bacchus wanton'd to my lays, etc.] The original

Where's the guest could ever fly him? here is corrupted; the line no Alovurou, is unintelligible.

Oh! with love's seduction courting, Brunck's emendation improves the sense, but I doubt if it

Where's the nymph could e'er deny him? can be commended for elegance. He reads the line thus: ως ο Διονυσοιο λελασμενος δυποτι κωμων.

(a) Brunck has x pouwv; but spovon, the common reading See Brunck, Analecta Veter. Poet Græc. vol. ii.

better suits a detached quotation. Thy harp, that whisper'd through each lingering night,

(6) Thus Scaliger, in his dedicatory verses to Ronsard : Elc.] In another of these poems, "the nightly-speaking Blandus, suaviloquus, dulcis Anacreon.

LITTLE'S POEMS.

LUSISSE PUDET.-Hor.

Ταδ' ιστ’ ονειρων νεότερων φαντασματα, οιον ληρος.
Metroc. ap. Diog. Laert. lib. vi. cap.

6.

PREFACE

preferred him to the pathetic Tibullus ; but I believe

the defects which a common reader condemns have BY THE EDITOR.

been looked upon rather as beauties by those erudite

inen, the commentators, who find a field for their The Poems which I take the liberty of publishing ingenuity and research in his Grecian learning and were never intended by the Author to pass beyond quaint obscurities. he circle of his friends. He thought, with some Tibullus abounds with touches of fine and natural ustice, that what are called Occasional Poems must feeling. The idea of his unexpected return to Delia, be always insipid and uninteresting to the greater "Tunc veniam subito,"' etc. is imagined with all the part of their readers. The particular situations in delicate ardour of a lover; and the sentiment of which they were written; the character of the author

nec te posse carere velim," however colloquial the and of his associates ; all these peculiarities must be expression may have been, is natural and from the known and felt before we can enter into the spirit of heart. But, in my opinion, the poet of Verona possuch compositions. This consideration would have sessed more genuine feeling than any of them. His always, I believe, prevented Mr. Little from sub- life was, I believe, unfortunate; his associates were mitting these trifles of the moment to the eye of dis- wild and abandoned; and the warmth of his nature passionate criticism ; and, if their posthumous intro- took too much advantage of the latitude which the duction to the world be injustice to his memory, or morals of those times so criminally allowed to the intrusion on the public, the error must be imputed to passions. All this depraved his imagination, and the injudicious partiality of friendship.

made it the slave of his senses : but still a native Mr. Little died in his one-and-twentieth year; sensibility is often very warmly perceptible; and and most of these Poems were written at so early a when he touches on pathos, he reaches the heart imperiod, that their errors may claim some indulgence mediately. They who have felt the sweets of return from the critic: their author, as unambitious as indo-to a home, from which they have long been absent, lent, scarce ever looked beyond the moment of com- will confess the beauty of those simple unaffected position; he wrote as he pleased, careless whether lines : he pleased as he wrote. It may likewise be remem

O quid solutis est beatius curis ? bered, that they were all the productions of an age Cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino when the passions very often give a colouring too

Labore fessi venimus Larem ad nostrum warm to the imagination; and this may palliate, if it Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto.

CARM. xxxii. cannot excuse, that air of levity which pervades so many of them. The “aurea legge, s' ei piace ei lice," His sorrows on the death of his brother are the he too much pursued, and too much inculcates. Few very tears of poesy; and when he complains of the can regret this more sincerely than myself; and if my ingratitude of mankind, even the inexperienced canfriend had lived, the judgment of riper years would not but sympathize with him. I wish I were a poet ; have chastened his mind, and tempered the luxuriance I should endeavour to catch, by translation, the spirit of his fancy.

of those beauties which I admire? so warmly. Mr. Little gave much of his time to the study of It seems to have been peculiarly the fate of Catulthe amatory writers. If ever he expected to find in lus, that the better and more valuable part of his the ancients that delicacy of sentiment and variety of poetry has not reached us; for there is confessedly fancy which are so necessary to refine and animate nothing in his extant works to authorize the epithet the poetry of love, he was much disappointed. 1 “doctus,” so universally bestowed upon him by the know not any one of them who can be regarded as ancients. If time had suffered the rest to escape, we a model in that style; Ovid made love like a rake, perhaps should have found among them some more and Propertius like a schoolmaster. The mytholo- purely amatory; but of those we possess, can there gical allusions of the latter are called erudition by his commentators ; but such ostentatious display, upon a 1 Lib. i. eleg. 3. subject so simple as love, would be now esteemed 2 In the following Poems, there is a translation of one oi

his finest Carmina : but I fancy it is only a school-boy's vague and puerile, and was, even in his own times, essay, and deserves to be praised for little more than the pedantic. It is astonishing that so many critics have attempt.

be a sweeter specimen of warm, yet chastened de-Jonce revised them for that purpose ; but, I know not scription, than his loves of Acme and Septimius ? why, I distrusted either my heart or my judgment; and the few little songs of dalliance to Lesbia are and the consequence is, you have them in their oridistinguished by such an exquisite playfulness, that ginal form: they have always been assumed as models by the Non possunt nostros multæ, Faustine, lituræ most elegant modern Latinists. Still, I must confess, Emendare jocos; una litura potest. in the midst of these beauties,

I am convinced, however, that though not quite a -Medio de fonte leporum

casuiste relache, you have charity enough to forgive Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angal.' such inoffensive follies : you know the pious Beza It has often been remarked, that the ancients knew was not the less revered for those sportive juvenilia nothing of gallantry; and we are told there was too which he published under a fictitious name; nor much sincerity in their love to allow them to trifle did the levity of Bembo's poems prevent him from with the semblance of passion. But I cannot per- making a very good cardinal. ceive that they were any thing more constant than

Believe me, my dear friend, the moderns: they felt all the same dissipation of the

With the truest esteem, heart, though they knew not those seductive graces

Yours, by which gallantry almost teaches it to be amiable.

T. M.

April 19, 1802. Watton, the learned advocate for the moderns, deserts them in considering this point of comparison, and praises the ancients for their ignorance of such

POEMS, ETC. a refinement ; but he seems to have collected his notions of gallantry from the insipid fadeurs of the French romances, which are very unlike the senti

TO JULIA. mental levity, the “grata protervitas," of a Rochester

IN ALLUSION TO SOME ILLIBERAL CRITICISMS. or a Sedley.

Way, let the stingless critic chide From what I have had an opportunity of observing,

With all that fume of vacant pride the early poets of our own language were the models

Which mantles o'er the pedant fool, which Mr. Little selected for imitation. To attain

Like vapour on a stagnant pool ! their simplicity (ævo rarissima nostro simplicitas) was

Oh! if the song, to feeling true, his fondest ambition. He could not have aimed at a

Can please the elect, the sacred few, grace more difficult of attainment;? and his life was

Whose souls, by Taste and Nature taught, of too short a date to allow him to perfect such a

Thrill with the genuine pulse of thought taste; but how far he was likely to have succeeded,

If some fond feeling maid like thee, the critic may judge from his productions.

The warm-eyed child of Sympathy, I have found among his papers a novel, in rather

Shall say, while o'er my simple theme an imperfect state, which, as soon as I have arranged

She languishes in Passion's dream, and collected it, shall be submitted to the public eye.

“He was, indeed, a tender soul Where Mr. Little was born, or what is the gene

No critic law, no chill controul, alogy of his parents, are points in which very few

Should ever freeze, by timid art, readers can be interested. His life was one of those

The flowings of so fond a heart !" humble streams which have scarcely a name in the

Yes ! soul of Nature ! soul of Love! map of life, and the traveller may pass it by without

That, hovering like a snow-wing'd dove, inquiring its source or direction. His character was

Breathed o'er my cradle warblings wild, well known to all who were acquainted with him ; for

And hail'd me Passion's warmest child ! he had too much vanity to hide its virtues, and not

Grant me the tear from Beauty's eye, enough of art to conceal its defects. The lighter traits

From Feeling's breast the votive sigh ; of his mind may be traced perhaps in his writings;

Oh ! let my song, my memory, find but the few for which he was valued live only in the

A shrine within the tender mind; remembrance of his friends.

T. M.

And I will scorn the critic's chide,
And I will scorn the fume of pride

Which mantles o'er the pedant fool,
TO J. ATK-NS-N, ESQ.

Like vapour on a stagnant pool !
MY DEAR SIR,

I FEEL a very sincere pleasure in dedicating to you the Second Edition of our friend Little's Poems.

TO A LADY, I am not unconscious that there are many in the col.

WITH SOME MANUSCRIPT POEMS. lection which perhaps it would be prudent to have altered or omitted ; and, to say the truth, I more than

ON LEAVING THE COUNTRY.

WHEN, casting many a look behind, 1 Lucretius. 2 It is a curious illustration of the labour which simplicity

I leave the friends I cherish hererequires, that the Ramblers of Johnson, elaborate as they Perchance some other friends to find, appear, were written with fluency, and seldom required

But surely finding none so dear revision; while the simple language of Rousseau, which seems to come flowing from the heart, was the slow production of painful labour, pausing on every word, and

Haply the little simple page, balancing every sentence.

Which votive thus I've traced for thee,

If ever, by Fortune's indulgent decree,

To me such a ticket should roll, A sixteenth, Heaven knows! were sufficient for me;

For what could I do with the whole ?

May now and then a look engage,

And steal a moment's thought for me. But, oh! in pity let not those

Whose hearts are not of gentle mould, Let not the eye, that seldom flows

With feeling tear, my song behold. For, trust me, they who never melt

With pity, never melt with love; And they will frown at all I've felt,

And all my loving lays reprove. But if, perhaps, some gentler mind,

Which rather loves to praise than blame, Should in my page an interest find,

And linger kindly on my name; Tell him,-or, oh! if gentler still,

By female lips my name be blest : Ah! where do all affections thrill

So sweetly as in woman's breast ?Tell her, that he whose loving themes

Her eye indulgent wanders o'er, Could sometimes wake from idle dreams,

And bolder flights of fancy soar; That glory oft would claim the lay,

And friendship of his numbers move; But whisper then, that, “ sooth to say,

His sweetest song was given to Love!"

TO JULIA. WELL, Julia, if to love, and live 'Mid all the pleasures love can give,

Be crimes that bring damnation; You—you and I have given such scope To loves and joys, we scarce can hope

In heaven the least salvation!
And yet, I think, did IIeaven design
That blisses dear, like yours and mine,

Should be our own undoing;
It had not made my soul so warm,
Nor given you such a witching form,

To bid me doat on ruin !
Then wipe away that timid tear;
Sweet truant ! you have nought to fear,

Though you were whelm'd in sin; Stand but at heaven's gate awhile, And you so like an angel smile,

They can't but let you in.

INCONSTANCY. AND do I then wonder that Julia deceives me, When surely there's nothing in nature more com

mon ? She vows to be true, and while vowing she leaves

me

TO MRS.
If, in the dream that hovers

Around my sleeping mind,
Fancy thy form discovers,

And paints thee melting kind, If joys from sleep I borrow,

Sure thou'lt forgive me this; For he who wakes to sorrow

At least may dream of bliss ! Oh ! if thou art, in seeming,

All that I've e'er required: Oh! if I feel, in dreaming,

All that I've e'er desired; Wilt thou forgive my taking

A kiss, or something more? What thou deny'st me waking,

Oh! let me slumber o'er!

But could I expect any more from a woman? Oh, woman! your heart is a pitiful treasure ;

And Mahomet's doctrine was not too severe, When he thought you were only materials of pleasure,

And reason and thinking were out of your sphere. By your heart, when the fond sigbing lover can win it,

He thinks that an age of anxiety's paid; But, oh! while he's blest, let him die on the minute

If he live but a day, he'll be surely betray'd.

IMITATION OF CATULLUS.'

TO HIMSELF.

Miser Catulle, desinas ineptire, etc.

TO THE LARGE AND BEAUTIFUL

MISS

IN ALLUSION TO SOME PARTNERSHIP IN A LOTTERY SHARE.

IMPROMPTU.

CEASE the sighing fool to play;
Cease to trifle life away;
Nor vainly think those joys thine own,
Which all, alas! have falsely flown!
What hours, Catullus, once were thine,
How fairly seem'd thy day to shine,

-Ego pars—Virg.

IN wedlock a species of lottery lies,

Where in blanks and in prizes we deal ; But how comes it that you, such a capital prize, Should so long have remain'd in the wheel?

1 Few poets knew better than Catullus, what a French writer calls

la délicatesse

D'un voluptueux sentiment; but his passions too often obscured his imagination E

« ForrigeFortsæt »