3

Seeking in the desert wood
Gloomy shelter, rustic food.
Now I lead a life of ease,
Far from such retreats as these;
From Anacreon's hand I eat
Food delicious, viands sweet;
Flutter o'er his goblet's brim,
Sip the foamy wine with him.
Then I dance and wanton round
To the lyre's beguiling sound;
Or with gently.fanning wings
Shade the minstrel while he sings :
Ou his harp then sink in slumbers,
Dreaming still of dulcet numbers !
This is all-away-away-.
You have made me waste the day.
How I chattered ! prating crow
Never yet did chatter so.

Best of painters ! come, portray
The lovely maid that's far away.
Far away, my soul ! thou art,
But I've thy beauties all by heart.
Paint her jetty ringlets straying,
Silky twine in tendrils playing ;*
And if painting hath the skill
To make the spicy balm distil,5
Let every little lock exhale
A sigh of perfume on the gale.
Where her tresses' curly flow
Darkles o'er the brow of snow,
Let her forehead beam to light,
Burnished as the ivory bright.
Let her eyebrows sweetly rise
In jetty arches o'er her eyes,
Gently in a crescent gliding,
Just commingling, just dividing.
But hast thou any sparkles warm,
The lightning of her eyes to form ?
Let them effuse the azure ray
With which Minerva's glances play,
And give them all that liquid fire
That Venus' languid eyes respire.

ODE XVI. Thou, whose soft and rosy hues siimic form and soul infuse;

has ever been said. What an idea does it give of of excellence, from the association of beauty with the poetry of the man from whom Venus herself, that flower. Salvini has adopted this reading in the mother of the Graces and the pleasures, pur- his literal translation : chases a little hymn with one of her favourite

Della rosea arte signore. dores!'-Longepierre. De Pauw objects to the authenticity of this

3 If the portrait of this beauty be not merely ode, because it makes Anacreon bis own pane- ideal, the omission of her name is much to be gyrist; but poets have a licence for praising regretted. Meleager, in an epigram on Anathemselves, which with some indeed may be con

creon, mentions "the golden Eurypyle' as his sidered as comprised under their general privilege

mistress : of fiction.

Βεβληκως χρυσεην χειρας επ’ Ευρυπυλην. This ode and the next may be called compa. nion pictures; they are highly finished, and

* The ancients have been very enthusiastic in pive us an excellent idea of the taste of the their praises of hair. Apuleius, in the second ancients in b-aury. Franciscus Junius quotes book of his Milesiacs, says that Venus herself, if then in his third book, De Pictura Veterum.

she were bald, though surrounded by the Graces This ode has been imitated by Ronsard, and the Loves, could not be pleasing even to her Grubuna Gostlini, etc. etc. Scaliger alludes to busband Vulcan. is thus in his Anacreontica :

To this passage of our poet Selden alluded in

a note on the Polyolbion of Drayton, song the Olim lepore blando,

second; where, observing that the epithet 'black. Litis versibus

haired' was given by some of the ancients to the Candidus Anacreon

goddess Isis, he says: Nor will I swear but that Quam pingeret Amicas

Anacreon (a man very judicions in the provoking Descripsit Venerem suam.

motives of wanton love), intending to bestow on

his sweet mistress that one of the titles of The Teia bard, of former days,

woman's special ornament, well-haired, thought Attuned his sweet descriptive lays,

of this when he gave his painter direction to And taught the painter's hand to trace

make her black-haired.' His fair beloved's every grace!

5 Thus Philostratus, speaking of a picture: 'I In the dialogue of Caspar Barlæus, entitled An admire the dewiness of these roses, and could formou out ducenda, the reader will find many say that their very smell was painted. eunious ideas and descriptions of beauty.

Ő Tasso has painted the eyes of Armida, as La I have followed the reading of the Vatican Fosse remarks: Ms. Painting is called the rosy art,' either in Qual raggio in onda le scintilla un riso reference to colouring, or as an indefinite epithet Negli umidi occhi tremulo e lascivu,

"

6

O'er her nose and cheek be shed Let his hair, in lapses bright,
Flushing white and mellow red ; Fall like streaming rays of light ;5
Gradual tints, as when there glows And there the raven's dye confuse
In snowy milk the bashful rose. With the yellow sunbeam's hues.
Then her lip. so rich in blisses ! Let not the braid, with artful twine,
Sweet petitioner for kisses !

The towing of his locks confine; l'outing nest of bland persuasion, But loosen every golden ring, Hipely suing Love's invasion.

To float upon the breeze's wing: Then beneath the velvet chin,

Beneath the front of polished glow, Whose dimple shades a Love within,2 Front as fair as mountain snow, Mould her neck with grace descending, And guileless as the dews of dawn, In a heaven of beauty ending;

Let the majestic brows be drawn, While airy charms, above, below, Of ebon dyes, enriched by gold, Sport and flutter on its snow.

Such as the scaly snakes unfold.. Now let a floating, lucid veil

Mingle in his jetty glances Shadow her limbs, but not conceal ;3 Power that awes, and love that A charm may peep, a hue may beam, trances ;? And leave the rest to Fancy's dream. Steal from Venus bland desire, Enough—'tis she ! 'tis all I seek ; Steal from Mars the look of fire, It glows, it lives, it soon will speak ! Blend them in such expression here,

That we, by turns, may hope and ODE XVII.4

Now from the sunny apple seek And now, with all thy pencil's truth, The velvet down that spreads his Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth!

fear;

And there let Beauty's rosy ray Thy pencil, though divinely bright, In flying blushes richly play ;

Is envious of the

eye's delight, Blushes of that celestial flame

Or its enamoured touch would show Which lights the cheek of virgin His shoulder, fair as sunless snow, shame.

Which now in veiling shadow lies, Then for his lips, that ripely gem

Removed from all but Fancy's eyes.
But let thy mind imagine them! Now, for his feet--but, hold—forbear-
Paint, where the ruby cell uncloses I see a godlike portrait there ;5
Persuasion sleeping upon roses ;?. So like Bathyllus !-sure there's none
And give his lip that speaking air, So like Bathyllus but the Sun !
As if a word was hovering there !2 Oh, let this pictured god be mine,
His neck of ivory splendour trace, And keep the boy for Samos? shrine;
Moulded with soft but manly grace ;

Phæbus shall then Bathyllus be,
Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy, Bathyllus then the deity!
Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy.
Give him the winged Hermes' hand. 3
With which he waves his snaky wand;
Let Bacchus then the breast supply,

ODE XVIII.
And Leda's son tbe sinewy thigh.
But oh! suffuse his limbs of fire Now the star of day is high,
With all that glow of young desire Fly, my girls, in pity fly,
Which kindles when the wishful sigh Bring me wine in brimming urus,
Steals from the heart, unconscious why. Cool my lip, it burns, it burns !

Lampeggiar gli occhi, e folgorar gli sguardi Nor yet had fair Persuasion shone
Doici ne l'ira.

In silver splendours, not her own.
Her eyes were glowing with a heavenly heat,
Emaning fire, and e'en in anger sweet !

2 In the original, datwv olm. The mistress

of Petrarch 'parla con silenzio,' which is perhaps The poetess Veronica Cambara is more diffuse the best method of female eloquence. pon this variety of expression:

3 In Shakspeare's Cymbeline there is a similar Ocehi lucenti et belli

method of description : Come esser puo ch' in un medesmo istante

This is his hand, Nascan de voi si nove forme et tante ?

His foot Mercurial, his martial thigh,
Lieti, mesti, superbi, humil' altieri

The brawns of Hercules.
Vi mostrate in un punto, ondi di speme,
E di cimor de empiete, etc. etc.

We find it likewise in Hamlet I ongepierre Oh! tell me, brightly-beaming eye,

Sunned by the meridian fire,
Panting, languid, I expire !
Give me all those humid flowers,
Drop them o'er my brow in showers.
Scarce a breathing chaplet now
Lives upon my feverish brow;
Every dewy rose I wear
Sheds its tears, and withers there,
But for you, my burning mind !?
Oh! what shelter shall I find ?
Can the bowl, or floweret's dew,
Cool the flame that scorches you ?

Sweet the young, the modest trees,
Ruffled by the kissing breeze,
Sweet the little founts that weep,
Lulling bland the mind to sleep;
Hark! they whisper, as they roll,
Calm persuasion to the soul;
Tell me, tell me, is not this
All a stilly scene of bliss ?
Who, my girl, would pass it by?
Surely neither you nor I !4

1

ODE XIX.
HERE recline you, gentle maid,
Sweet is this imbowering shade ;3

ODE XX.
ONE day the Muses twined the hands5
Of baby Love, with flowery bands ;
And to celestial Beauty gave
The captive infant as her slave.

he goes to Samos, he may make an Apollo of Comc, sit by the shadowy pine the portrait of the boy which he had begun.

That covers my sylvan retreat, * Bathyllus (says Madame Dacier) could not be And see how the branches incline more elegantly praised, and this one passage

The breathing of Zephyr to meet. does him more honour than the statue, how- See the fountain, that, flowing, diffuses ever beautiful it might be, wbich Polycrates Around me a glittering spray; raised to him.'

By its brink, as the traveller muses, 1 There are some beautiful lines, by Angerianus, I soothe him to sleep with my lay! upon a garland, which I cannot resist quoting here :

4 What a finish he gives to the picture by the

simple exclamation of the original! In ch se Ante fores madidæ sic sic pendete corollæ, delicate turns he is inimitable; and yet hear what

Mane orto imponet Cælià vos capiti; a French translator says on the passage: 'This At quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor, conclusion appeared to me too trifling after such

Dicite, non roris sed pluvia hæc lacrime, a description, and I thought proper to add someBy Celia's arbour all the night

what to the strength of the original.'. Hang, humid wreath, the lover's vow; 5 By this allegory of the Muses making Cupid And haply, at the morning light,

the prisoner of Beauty, Anacreon seems to in. My love shall twine thee round her brow. sinuate the softening influence which a cultivation Then, it' upon her bosom bright,

of poetry has over the mind, in making it pecuSome drops of dew shall fall from the,

liarly susceptible to the impressions of beauty; Tell her, they are not drups of night,

though in the following epigram, by the philosoBut tears of sorrow shed by me!

pher Plato, which is found in the third bok of

Diogenes Laertius, the Muses are made to disIn the poem of Mr. Sheridan, “Upcouth is this avow all the influence of Love: τη085-covered grotto of stone, there is an idea | Α Κυπρις Μουσαισι, κορασια ταν Αφροδιταν very singularly coincident with this of Angeria.

Τιματ’ η τον Ερωτα ύμμιν εφοπλισομαι. Dus, in the stanza which begins,

Αι Μοισαι ποτι Κυπριν. Αρει τα στωμυλα ταντα And thou, stony grot, in thy arch may'st preserve. Ημιν ου πεταται τοντο το παιδαριον.

* The transition here is peculiarly delicate and Yield to my gentle power, Parnassian maids ;' impissioned; but the commentators have per- Thus to the Muses spoke the Queen of Charmsplesed the sentiment by a variety of readings and

Or Love shall flutter in your classic sharles, conjectures.

And make your grove the camp of Paphian arms! * The description of this bower is so natural No,' said the virgins of the tuneful bower, and animated, that we cannt help feeling a degree of coolness and freshıness while we real it. Though Mars has trembled at the intant's power,

We scorn thine own and all thy urchin's art ; konzepierre has quoted from the first book of the

His shaft is pointless o'er a Muse's heart !' anthologia the following epigram, as somewhat There is a sonnet by Benedetto Guidi, the thought resembling this ode :

of which was suggested by this ode. Ερχεο, και κατ' εμαν ζευ πίτυν, ά το μελιχρον Love, wandering through the golden maze Προς μαλακους ηχει κεκλιμενα ζεφυρους.

Of my beloved's hair, Ηνιδε και κρουνισμα μελισταγες, ενθα μελισδων Traced every lock with fond delays, "Ηδυν ερημαιαις ύπνον αγω καλαμοις,

And, doting, lingered there.

His mother comes with many a toy,

And when the rosy sun appears, To ransom her beloved boy; 1

He drinks the ocean s misty tears. His mother sues, but all in vain ! The monn, too, quaffs her paly stream He ne'er will leave his chains again. Of lustre from the solar beam. Nay, should they take his chains away, Then, hence with all your sober think, The little captive still would stay.

ing! If this,' he cries, “a bondage be, Since Nature's holy law is drinking; Who could wish for liberty?'

I'll make the laws of Nature mine,
And pledge the universe in wine !

ODE XXI.
OBSERVE when mother earth is dry,
She drinks the droppings of the sky;
And then the dewy cordial gives
To every thirsty plant that lives.
The vapours, which at evening weep,
Are beverage to the swelling deep;

ODE XXII.3
The Phrygian rock, that braves the

storm,
Was once a weeping matron's form;
And Progne, hapless, frantic maid,
Is pow a swallow in the shade.

And soon he found 'twere vain to fly, One of the Capilupi has imitated this ode in an
His heart was close confined;

epitaph on a drunkard :
And every curlet was a tie,
A chain by Beauty twined,

Dum vixi sine fine bibi, sic imbrifer arcus
Now Venus seeks her boy's release,

Sic tellus pluvias sole perusta bibit.

Sic bibit assidue fontes et flumina Pontus,
With ransom from above :
But, Venus! let thy efforts cease,

Sie semper sitiens Sol maris haurit aquas.
For Love's the slave of love.

Ne te igitur jactes plus me, Silene, bibisse;

Et mihi da victas tu quoque, Bacche, manus.
And, should we loose his goldeu chain,
The prisoner would return again!

Hippolytus Capilupus. Venus thus proclaims the reward for her

While life was mine, the little hour

In drinking still unvaried flew; iugitive child in the first idyl of Moschus :

I drank as earth imbibes the shower, "Ο μανντας γερας εξει,

Or as the rainbow drinks the dew; Μισθος του, το φιλαρα το Κυπριδος, ην δ' αγαγης

As ocean quatt's the rivers up, vu,

Or flushing sun inhales the sea ;
Ου γυμνον το φιλαμο, το δ' ω ξενε και πλεον έξεις.

Silenus treinbled at my cup,
On him, who the haunts of my Cupid can show, And Bacchus was outdone by me!
A kiss of the tenderest stamp I'll bestow;
But he who can bring me the wanderer here,

3 Ogilvie, in his Essay on the Lyric Poetry of Shall have something more rapturous, something Anacreon, says: 'In some of his pieces there is

the Ancients, in remarking upon the Oder of more dear.

cxuberance and even wildness of imagination ; This something more' is the 'quidquid post in that particularly which is addressed to a young oscula dulce' of Secundus.