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KUKVOS

But wine shall gush in every rill, And yet, oh bard! thou art not mute And every fount be milky showers. in death,

Still, still we catch thy lyre's delicious Thus, shade of him whom Nature

breath ;2 taught

And still thy songs of soft Bathylia To tune his lyre and soul to pleasure, bloom, Who gave to love his warmest thought, Green as the ivy round the mouldering Who gave to love his fondest mea

tomb! ! sure !

Nor yet has death obscured thy fire of Thus, after death, if spirits feel,

love, Thou mayst, from odours round thee Still, still it lights thee through the streaming,

Elysian grove : A pulse of past enjoyment steal,

And dreams are thine that bless the And live again in blissful dreaming! And Venus calls thee, even in death,

elect alone,

her own! Του αυτου, εις τον αυτων.

Του αυτου, εις τον αυτον. Τυμβος Ανακρειoντος. o Τηϊος ενθαδε Ξενε, ταφον παρα λιτον Ανακρείοντος

αμειβων Εύδει, χη παιδων Χωροτατη μανιη.

Ετ τι τοι εκ βιβλων ηλθεν εμων οφελος, Ακμην λειριοεντι μελιζεται αμφι Βαθυλλο Σπεισον εμη σπoδιη, σπεισον λανος, οφρα Ιμερα και κισσου λευκος οδωδε λιθος.

κεν ουν, Ουδ' Αϊδης σοι ερωτας απεσβεσεν εν δ'

Οστεα γηθησε ταμα νοτιζομενα,
Αχεροντος

| Ως ο Διονύσου μεμελημενος ουασε κωμος Ων, όλος ωδινεις Κυπριδι θερμοτερη

“Ως ο φιλακρητου συντροφος αρμονιης, HERE sleeps Anacreon, in this ivied | Μηδε καταφθιμενος Βακχου διχα τουτον shade; ;

υπoισω Here, mute in death, the Teian swan is Τον γενεη μεροπων χωρον οφειλομενον laid.1

OH stranger !3 if Anacreon's shell Cold, cold the heart, which lived but Has ever taught thy heart to swello to respire

With passion's throb or pleasure's sigh,
All the voluptuous frenzy of desire ! In pity turn, as wandering nigh,
Thus Horace of Pindar:

Nor yet are all his numbers mute,
Molta Dircæum levat aura cycnum.

Though dark within the tomb he lies;

But living still, his amorous lute A swan was the hieroglyphical emblem of a poet. With sleepless animation sighs! Anacreon has been called the swan of Teos by This is the famous Simonides, whom Plato styled another of his eulogists:

divine,' though Le Fevre, in his Pvētes Grecs, Εν τοις μελιχροις Ιμεροισι συντροφος supposes that the epigrams under his name are Αναιος Ανακρέοντα, Τηίον κυκνον,

all falsely imputed. The most considerable of Εσφηλας υγρη νεκταρος μεληδονη.

his remains is a satirical poem upon women, Ευγενους, Ανθολογ. preserved by Stobens, ψογος γυναικων. God of the grape! thou hast betrayed,

We may judge from the lines I have just

quoted, and the import of the epigram before us, In wine's bewildering dream,

that the works of Anacreon were perfect m the The fairest swan that ever played

times of Simonides and Antipater. Obsopeus Along the Muse's stream !

the commentator here appears to exult in their The Teian, nursed with all those honeyed boys, The young Desires, light Loves, and rose-lipped the bishops and patriarchs, he adds, ' nec sane id

destruction; and telling us they were burned by Joys!

necquicquam fecerunt,' attributing to this out. ? Thus Simonides, speaking of our poet:

rage an effect which it could never produce.

3 The spirit of Anacreon utters these versek Μολπης δ' ου ληθη μελιτερπεος, αλλ' ετι κεινο from the tomb, somewhat mutatus ab illo,' at Βαρβιτον ουδε θανων ευνασεν ειν αϊδη. least in simplicity of expression.

Σιμωνιδου, Ανθολογ. • We may guess from the words ex Biblwy

1

And drop thy goblet's richest tear, Ενδει και Σμερδις, το Ποθων εαρ, ο συ. In exquisite libation here !

μελισδων So shall my sleeping ashes thrill

Βαρβιτ', ανεκρουου νεκταρ εναρμονιον. With visions of enjoyment still. Hϊθεου γαρ Ερωτος εφυς σκοπος ες δε σε I cannot even in death resign

μουνον The festal joys that once were mine, Τοξα τε και σκολιας ειχεν εκηβολιας. When Harmony pursued my ways, And Bacchus wantoned to my lays.? Ar length thy golden hours have Oh ! if delight could charm no more, winged their flight, If all the goblet's bliss were o'er,

And drowsy death that eyelil When fate had once our doom decreed, steepeth; Then dying would be death indeed ! Thy harp, that whispered through each Nor could I think, unblest by wine, lingering night, Divinity itself divine !

Now mutely in oblivion sleepeth !

She, too, for whom that heart profusely Του αυτου, εις τον αυτον.

shed

The purest nectar of its numbers,* Ευδεις εν φθιμενοισιν, Ανακρεον, εσθλα | She, the young spring of thy desires, πόνησας,

has fled,5 Εύδει δ' ή γλυκερη νυκτιλαλος κιθαρα, And with her blest Anacreon slumbers!

4

5

quww, that Anacreon was not merely a writer of Let vines, in clustering beauty wreathed, billets-doux, as some French critics have called Drop all their treasures on his head, him. Amongst these, Le Fevre, with all his Whose lips a dew of sweetness breathed, professed admiration, has given our poet a cha- Bicher than vine hath ever shed ! racter by no meaus of an elevated cast:

2 The original here is corrupted, the line ws • Aussi c'est pour cela que la postérité

Alovvoov is unintelligible. L'a toujours justement d'âge en åge chanté Brunck's emendation improves the sense, but Comme un franc goguenard, ami de goinfrerie, I doubt if it can be commended for elegance. Ami de billets-doux et de badinerie.

He reads the line thus: See the verses prefixed to his Poètes Grecs. ως ο Διωνυσοιο λελασμενος ουπoτε κωμων. This is unlike the language of Theocritus, to See Brunck, Analecta Veter. Poet. Græc. vol. ii. whom Anacreon is indebted for the following 3 In another of these poems, 'the nightly. simple eulogium :

speaking lyre' of the bard is not allowed to be

silent even after his death. Εις Ανακρέοντος ανδριαντα. Θασαι τον ανδριαντα τουτον, ω ξενε,

Ως ο φιλοκρητος τε και οινοβαρες φιλοκωμος Σπουδα, και λεγ', επαν ες οικον ελθης"

Παννυχιος κρουοι* την φιλοπαιδα χελυν.

Σιμωνιδου, εις Ανακρέοντα.
Ανακρέοντος εικον' ειδον εν Τεω.
Των προσθ' ει τι περισσον ωδοποιων.

To beauty's smile and wine's delight,
Προσθεις δε χώτι τους νεοισιν άδετο,

To joys be loved on earth so well,
Ερεις ατρεκεως όλον τον ανδρα,

Still shall his spirit, all the night,

Attune the wild aërial shell !
UPON THE STATUE OP ANACREON.

4. Thus, says Brunck, in the prologue to the Stranger ! who near this statue chance to roam,

Satires of Persius : Let it awhile your studious eyes engage;

Cantare credas Pegaseium nectar. And you may say, returning to your home,

I've seen the image of the Teian sage, "Melos' is the usual reading in this line, and Best of the bards who deck the Muse's page. Casaubon has defended it; but ‘nectar,' I think, Then, if you add, ' l'hat striplings loved him well,' is much more spirited. You tell them all he was, and aptly tell.

5 The original, to IIoowv cap, is beautiful,

We regret that such praise should be lavished so The simplicity of this inscription has always de preposterously, and feel that the poet's mistress, lighted me; I have given it, I believe, as literally Eurypyle, would have deserved it better. Her as a verse translation will allow.

name has been told us by Meleager, as already 1 Thus Simonides, in another of his epitaphs quoted, and in another epigram by Antipater : on our poet: Και μιν αει τεγγοι νοτερη δροσος, ής ο γεραιος • Brunck has kpovw; but Kpovou, the common

Λαροτερον μαλακων απνεεν εκ στοματων. readine, better suits a detached quotation.

Farewell ! thou hadst a pulse for every | And every woman found in thee a dart

heart, That Love could scatter from his Which thou, with all thy soul, didst quiver;

give her!

Υγρα δε δερκομενοισιν εν ομμασιν ουλoν αειδοις, , Τον δε γυνακειων μελεων πλεξαντα ποτ' ωδας, Αιθωσσων λιπαρες ανθος υπερθε κομης, ,

Ηδων Ανακρειoντα, Τεως εις “Ελλαδ'

ανηγ€ν, He προς Ευρυπυλην τετραμμενος ....

Συμποσιων ερεθισμα, γυναικων ηπεροπευμα. Long may the nymph around thee play, Critias, of Athens, pays a tribute to the legitiEurypyle, thy soul's desire!

mate gallantry of Anacreon, calling him, with Basking her beauties in the ray

elegant conciseness, γυναικων ηπεροπευμα, That lights thine eyes' dissolving fire! Teos gave to Greece her treasure, Sing of her smile's bewitching power,

Sage Anacreon, sage in loving; Her every grace that warms and blesses ; Fondly weaving lays of pleasure Sing of her brow's Juxuriant flower,

For the maids who blushed approving! The beaming glory of her tresses.

Oh! in nightly banquets sporting, The expression here, avdos Koums, 'the flower of

Where's the guest could ever fly him?

Oh! with love's seduction courting, the hair,' is borrowed from Anacreon himself, as appears by a fragment of the poet preserved in

Where s the nymph could e'er deny him ? Stolens: Απεκειρας δ' απ ιλης αμωμον ανθος. This couplet is not otherwise warranted by

• Thus Scaliger, in his dedicatory verses to the original, than as it dilates the thought which Ronsard : Antipater has figuratively expressed:

Blaudus, suaviloquus, dulcis Anacreon.

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JUVENILE POEMS.

1801.

PREFACE BY THE EDITOR.

The Poems which I take the liberty of publishing were never intended by the Author to pass beyond the circle of his friends. He thought, with some justice, that what are called Occasional Poems must be always insipid and uninteresting to the greater part of their readers. The particular situations in which they were written ; the character of the author and of his associates ; all these peculiarities must be known and felt before we can enter into the spirit of such compositions. This consideration would have always, I believe, prevented Mr. Little from submitting these trifles of the moment to the eye of dispassionate criticism ; and if their posthumous introduction to the world be injustice to his memory, or intrusion on the public, the error must be imputed to the injudicious parti:lity of friendship.

Mr. Little died in his one-and-twentieth year; and inost of these Poems were written at so early a period, that their errors may claim some indulgence from the critic : their author, as unambitious as indolent, scarce ever looked beyond the moment of composition; he wrote as he pleased, careless whether he pleased as he wrote. It may likewise be remembered, that they were all the productions of an age when the passions very often give a colouring too warm to the imagination ; and this may palliate, if it cannot excuse, that air of levity which pervades so many of them. The 'aurea legge, sei piace ei lice,' he too much pursued, and too much inculcates. Few can regret this more sincerely than myself; and if my friend had lived, the judgment of riper years would have chastened his mind, and tempered the luxuriance of his fancy.

Mr. Little gave much of his time to the study of the amatory writers. If ever he expected to find in the ancients that delicacy of sentiment and variety of fancy which are so necessary to refine and animate the poetry of love, he was much disappointed. I know not any one of them who can be regarded as a model in that style : Ovid made love like a rake, and Propertius like a schoolmaster. The mythological allusions of the latter are called erudition by his commentators ; but such ostentatious display, upon a subject so simple as love, would be now esteemed vague and puerile, and was, even in his own times, pedantic. It is astonishing that so many critics have preferred him to the pathetic Tibullus ; but I believe the defects which a common reader condemns have been looked upon rather as beauties by those erudite men, the commentators, who find a field for their ingenuity and research in his Greciau learning and quaint obscurities

Labore fessi venimus Larem ad nostrum

Tibullus abounds with touches of fine and natural feeling. The idea of bis unexpected return to Delia, 'Tunc veniam subito,' &c., is imagined with all the delicate ardour of a lover; and the sentiment of 'nec te posse carere velim,' however colloquial the expression may have been, is natural and from the heart. But, in my opinion, the poet of Verona possessed more genuine feeling than any of them. His life was, I believe, unfortunate ; his associates were wild and abandoned; and the warmth of his nature took too much advantage of the latitude which the piorals of those times so criminally allowed to the passions. All this depraved his imagination, and made it the slave of his senses; but still a native sensibility is often very warmly perceptible, and when he touches on pathos he reaches the heart immediately. They who have felt the sweets of return to a home from which they have long been absent, will confess the beauty of those simple, unaffected lines :

O quid solutis est beatius curis ?
Cum mens opus reponit, ac peregrino

Desideratoque acquiescimus lecto.'-Carm. xxxii. His sorrows on the death of his brother are the very tears of poesy; and when he complains of the ingratitude of mankind, even the inexperienced cannot but sympathize with him. I wish I were a poet; I should endeavour to catch, by translation, the spirit of those beauties which I admirel so warmly.

It seems to have been peculiarly the fate of Catullus, that the better and more valuable part of his poetry has not reached us ; for there is confessedly nothing in his extant works to authorize the epithet doctus,' so universally bestowed upon him by the ancients. If time had suffered the rest to escape, We perhaps should have found among them some more purely amatory ; but of those we possess, can there be a sweeter specimen of warm, yet chastened description, than his loves of Acme and Septimius ? and the few little songs of dalliance to Lesbia are distinguished by such an exquisite playfulness, that they bave always been assumed as models by the most elegant modern Latinists. Still I must confess, in the midst of these beauties,

Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.'' It has often been remarked, that the ancients knew nothing of gallantry; and we are told there was too much sincerity in their love to allow them to trifle with the semblance of passion. But I cannot perceive that they were apything more constant than the moderns; they felt all the same dissipation of the heart, though they knew not those seductive graces by which gallantry almost teaches it to be amiable. Watton, the learned advocate for the moderns, deserts them in considering this point of comparison, and praises the ancients for their ignorance of such 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 sentimental levity, the 'grata protervitas,' of a Rochester or a Sedley:

From what I have had an opportunity of observing, the early poets of our own language were the models which Mr. Little selected for imitation. To attain their simplicity (@vo rarissima nostro simplicitas) was his fondest

In the following Poers there is a trans- serves to be praised for little more than the lation of one of his finest Cartina; but I attempt. fancy it is only a schoolboy's essay, and de- 2 Lucretius.

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