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To ransom her beloved boy; 1
His mother sues, but all in vain,
He ne'er will leave his chains again.
Even should they take his chains away,
The little captive still would stay.
“ If this,” he cries, “a bondage be,
Oh, who could wish for liberty?"

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ODE XXI.2
OBSERVE when mother earth is dry,
She drinks the droppings of the sky;

1 His mother comes, with many a toy,

To ransom her beloved boy, etc. In the first idyl of Moschus, Venus thus proclaims the reward for her fugitive child :

• Mavutas yépas ëfet, μισθος του, το φίλαμα το Κύπριδος» ήν δ', αγάγης ου γυμνόν το φίλαμα, τύ δ', ώ ξένε, και πλέον

εξεις. On him, who the haunts of my Cupid can show, A kiss of the tenderest stamp I 'll bestow; But he, who can bring back the urchin in chains, Shall receive even something more sweet for his

pains. Subjoined to this ode, we find in the Vatican MS. the following lines, which appear to me to boast as little sense as metre, and which are most probably the interpolation of the transcriber:

ήδυμελής Ανακρέων
ήδυμελής δε Σάπφω
πινδαρικόν το δέ μοι μέλος
συγκεράσας τις εγχέοι
τα τρία ταύτα MOL

δόκει
και Διόνυσος είσελθών
και Παφίτη παράχροος

και αυτός "Έρως καν επίειν. 2 Those critics who have endeavored to throw the chains of precision over the spirit of this beautiful trifle, require too much from Anacreontic philosophy. Among others, Gail very sapiently thinks that the poet uses the epithet μελαίνη, because black earth absorbs moisture more quickly than any other; and accordingly he indulges us with

an experimental disquisition on the subject. - See Gail's Notes.

One of the Capilupi has imitated this ode, in an epitaph on a drunkard :Dum vixi sine fine bibi, sic imbrifer arcus

sic tellus pluvias sole perusta bibit. Sic bibit assiduè fontes et flumina Pontus,

sic semper sitiens Sol maris haurit aquas. Ne te igitur jactes plus me, Silene, bibisse ; et mihi da victas tu quoque, Bacche, manus.

HIPPOLYTUS CAPILUPUS.
While life was mine, the little hour

In drinking still unvaried flew;
I drank as earth imbibes the shower,

Or as the rainbow drinks the dew;
As ocean quaffs the rivers up,

Or flushing sun inhales the sea :
Silenus trembled at my cup,

And Bacchus was outdone by me!

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I cannot omit citing those remarkable lines of Shakspeare, where the thoughts of the ode before us are preserved with such striking similitude:

“I'll example you with thievery. The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea. The moon 's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun. The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The mounds into salt tears. The earth 's a thief, That feeds, and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrements.

Timon of Athens,” act iv. sc. 3. 3 - a weeping matron's form. Niobe. - Ogilvie, in his “ Essay on the Lyric Poetry of the Ancients,” in remarking upon the Odes of Anacreon, says, “ In some of his pieces there is exuberance and even wildness of imagination ; in that particularly, which is addressed to a young girl, where he wishes alternately to be transformed to a mirror, a coat, a stream, a bracelet, and a pair of shoes, for the different purposes which he recites; this is mere sport and wantonness.

It is the wantonness, however, of a very graceful Muse; ludit amabiliter.

The compliment of this ode is exquisitely delicate, and so singular for the period in which Anacreon lived, when the scale of love had not yet been graduated into all its little progressive refinements, that if we were inclined to question the authenticity of the poem, we should find a much more plausible argument in the features of modern gallantry which it bears, than in any of those fastidious conjectures upon which some mentators have presumed so far. Degen thinks it spurious, and De Pauw pronounces it to be miserable. Longepierre and Barnes refer us to several imitations of this ode, from which I

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Or could I be the robe which holds
That graceful form within its folds;
Or, turned into a fountain, lave
Thy beauties in my circling wave.
Would I were perfume for thy hair,
To breathe my soul in fragrance there;
Or, better still, the zone, that lies
Close to thy breast, and feels its sighs !1
Or even those envious pearls that show

So faintly round that neck of snow-
Yes, I would be a happy gem,
Like them to hang, to fade like them.
What more would thy Anacreon be?
Oh, any thing that touches thee;
Nay, sandals for those airy feet
Even to be trod by them were sweet! 2

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1

shall only select the following epigram of Dionysius : είθ' ανεμος γενόμην, συ δέ γε στείχουσα παρ'

avyás, στηθεα γυμνώσεις, και με πνέοντα λάβοις. είθε ρόδον γενόμην υποπόρφυεον, όφρα με χερσίν

αραμένη, κομίσαις στέθεσι χιονέoις. είθε κρίνον γενόμην λευκόχροον, όφρα με χερσίν αραμένη, μάλλον σης χροτίης κορέσης. I wish I could like zephyr steal

To wanton o'er thy mazy vest;
And thou wouldst ope thy bosom-veil,

And take me panting to thy breast !
I wish I might a rose-bud grow,

And thou wouldst cull me from the bower,
To place me on that breast of snow,

Where I should bloom, a wintry flower.
I wish I were the lily's leaf,

To fade upon that bosom warm;
Content to wither, pale and brief,

The trophy of thy fairer form! I may add, that Plato has expressed as fanciiul a wish in a distich preserved by Laertius : αστερας είσαθρείς, 'Αστήρ έμος, είθε γενoιμην ουρανός, ως πολλοίς όμμασιν είς σε βλέπω.

TO STELLA.
Why dost thou gaze upon the sky ?

Oh! that I were that spangled sphere,
And every star should be an eye,

To wonder on thy beauties here! Apuleius quotes this epigram of the divine philosopher, to justify himself for his verses on Critias and Charinus. See his" Apology,” where he also adduces the example of Anacreon: Fecere tamen et alii talia, et si vos ignoratis, apud Græcos Teius quidam," etc. 1 Or, better still, the zone, that lies

Close to thy breast, and feels its sighs ! This talvin was a riband, or band, called by the Romans fascia and strophium, which the women wore for the purpose of restraining the exuberance of the bosom. Vide“ Polluc. Onomast." Thus Martial: Fascia crescentes dominæ compesce papillas.

The women of Greece not only wore this zone, but condemned themselves to fasting, and made use of certain drugs and powders for the same purpose.

To these expedients they were compelled, in consequence of their inelegant fashion of compressing the waist into a very Larrow compass, which necessarily caused an excessive tumidity in the bosom. See “ Dioscorides,” lib. v.

2 Nay, sandals for those airy feet

Even to be trod by them were sweet! The sophist Philostratus, in one of his loveletters, has borrowed this thought; ü ädetou πόδες, ώ κάλλος ελευθερος, ώ τρισευδαίμων εγώ και μακάριος εαν πατήσετε με. - “ Oh lovely feet ! oh excellent beauty! oh! thrice happy and blessed should I be, if you would but tread on me !

In Shakspeare, Romeo desires to be a glove :

Oh! that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might kiss that cheek! And, in his “ Passionate Pilgrim," we meet with an idea somewhat like that of the thirteenth line: He, spying her, bounced in, where as he stood, “o Jove!” quoth she, why was not I a

flood ? "

In Burton's “ Anatomy of Melancholy," that whimsical farrago of “all such reading as was never read,” we find a translation of this ode made before 1632. — “Englished by Mr. B. Holiday, in his ‘ Technog.' act i. scene 7.'

3 According to the order in which the odes are usually placed, this (Θέλω λέγειν 'Ατρειδας) forms the first of the series, and is thought to be peculiarly designed as an introduction to the rest. It however characterizes the genius of the Teian but very inadequately, as wine, the burden of his lays, is not even mentioned in it:

- cum multo Venerem confundere mero precepit Lyrici Teia Musa senis. - Ovid.

The twenty-sixth Ode, Συ μεν λέγεις τα Θήβης, might, with just as much propriety, be placed at the head of his songs.

We find the sentiments of the ode before us expressed by Bion with much simplicity in his fourth idyl. The above translation is, perhaps, too paraphrastical; but the ode has been so frequently translated, that I could not otherwise avoid triteness and repetition.

Attuned them to a nobler swell,

While for the umbrage of the grove, And struck again the breathing shell; She plumed the warbling world of love. In all the glow of epic fire, To Hercules I wake the lyre,

To man she gave, in that proud hour, But still its fainting sighs repeat,

The boon of intellectual power.4 " The tale of love alone is sweet!” 2 Then, what, oh woman, what, for thee, Then fare thee well, seductive dream, Was left in Nature's treasury? That madest me follow Glory's theme; gave thee beauty — mightier far For thou my lyre, and thou my heart, Than all the pomp and power of war. 5 Shall never more in spirit part;

Nor steel, nor fire itself hath power And all that one has felt so well

Like woman, in her conquering hour. The other shall as sweetly tell !

Be thou but fair, mankind adore thee,

Smile, and a world is weak before thee ! 6 ODE XXIV.8 To all that breathe the air of heaven,

ODE XXV.? Some boon of strength has Nature given. Once in each revolving year, In forming the majestic bull,

Gentle bird! we find thee here. She fenced with wreathed horns his skull; When Nature wears her summer-vest, A hoof of strength she lent the steed, And winged the timorous hare with speed. 4 To man she gave, in that proud hour,

The boon of intellectual power. She gave the lion fangs of terror,

In my first attempt to translate this ode, I And, o'er the ocean's crystal mirror,

had interpreted opóvnua, with Baxter and Barnes, Taught the unnumbered scaly throng as implying courage and military virtue; but I do To trace their liquid path along;

not think that the gallantry of the idea suffers

by the import which I have now given to it. For, 1 In all the glow of epic fire,

why need we consider this possession of wisdom To Hercules I wake the lyre.

as exclusive? and in truth, as the design of Anac

reon is to estimate the treasure of beauty, Madame Dacier generally translates dúpn into above all the rest which Nature has distributed, a lute, which I believe is inaccurate.

it is perhaps even refining upon the delicacy of pliquer la lyre des anciens (says M. Sorel) par the compliment, to prefer the radiance of female un luth, c'est ignorer la différence qu'il y a entre charms to the cold illumination of wisdom and ces deux instrumens de musique.' -"Biblio

prudence; and to think that women's eyes are — thèque Françoise."

the books, the academies, 2 But still its fainting sighs repeat,

From whence doth spring the Promethean “The tale of love alone is sweet!”

fire. The word årredøvel in the original, may im. 5 She gave thee beauty — mightier far ply that kind of musical dialogue practised by the Than all the pomp and power of war. ancients, in which the lyre was made to respond

Thus Achilles Tatius : κάλλος οξύτερον τιτρώto the questions proposed by the singer. This was a method which Sappho used, as we are

σκει βέλους, και διά των οφθαλμών εις την ψυχήν told by Hermogenes;

καταρρεί. Οφθαλμός γάρ οδος ερωτικό τραύματι. “ όταν την λύραν 'ερωτά

“Beauty wounds more swiftly than the arrow, Σάπφω, και όταν αυτή αποκρίνεται.”

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and passes through the eye to the very soul; for Ιδεών, τόμ. δεύτ.

the eye is the inlet to the wounds of love." 3 Henry Stephen has imitated the idea of this ode in the following lines of one of his poems :

6 Be thou but fair, mankind adore thee,

Smile, and a world is weak before thee! Provida dat cunctis Natura animantibus arma, et sua fæmineum possidet arma genus,

Longepierre's remark here is ingenious :

“The Romans," says he, “were so convinced ungulâque ut defendit equum, atque ut cornua

of the power of beauty, that they used a word taurum, armata est formâ fæmina pulchra sua.

implying strength in the place of the epithet beautiful. Thus Plautus, act 2. scene 2.

BacAnd the same thought occurs in those lines chid.' spoken by Corisca in “ Pastor Fido:

Sed Bacchis etiam fortis tibi visa.
Cosi noi la bellezza

'Fortis, id est formosa,' say Servius and
Ch' è vertů nostra cosi propria, come Nonius.”
La forza del leone,
E l'ingegno de l'huomo.

7 We have here another ode addressed to the The lion boasts his savage powers,

swallow. Alberti has imitated both in
And lordly man his strength of mind; poem, beginning -
But beauty's charm is solely ours,

Perch'io pianga al tuo canto,
Peculiar boon, by Heav'n assigned.

Rondinella importuna, etc.

" D'ex

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With other wars my song shall burn,
For other wounds my harp shall mourn.
’T was not the crested warrior's dart,
That drank the current of my heart;
Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed,
Have made this vanquished bosom bleed;
No

't was from eyes of liquid blue,
A host of quivered Cupids flew ; 3
And now my heart all bleeding lies
Beneath that army of the eyes !

3

1

Thou comest to weave thy simple nest;
But when the chilling winter lowers,
Again thou seekest the genial bowers
Of Memphis, or the shores of Nile,
Where sunny hours for ever smile.
And thus thy pinion rests and roves,
Alas! unlike the swarm of Loves,
That brood within this hapless breast,
And never, never change their nest!
Still every year, and all the year,
They fix their fated dwelling here;
And some their infant plumage try,
And on a tender winglet fly;
While in the shell, impregned with fires,
Still lurk a thousand more desires;
Some from their tiny prisons peeping,
And some in formless embryo sleeping.
Thus peopled, like the vernal groves,
My breast resounds with warbling Loves;
One urchin imps the other's feather,
Then twin-desires they wing together,
And fast as they thus take their flight,
Still other urchins spring to light.
But is there then no kindly art,
To chase these Cupids from my heart;
Ah, no! I fear, in sadness fear,
They will for ever nestle here!

ODE XXVI 2
Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms,
Or tell the tale of Theban arms;

1 Alas! unlike the swarm of Loves,
• That brood within this hapless breast,

And never, never change their nest! Thus Love is represented as a bird, in an epigram cited by Longepierre from the Anthologia: αίει μοι δύνει μεν εν ούασιν ήχος έρωτος,

όμμα δε σιγα πόθοις το γλυκύ δάκρυ φέρει. ουδ' ή νύξ, ου φέγγος εκοίμισεν, αλλ'υπό φίλτρων


ηδε που κραδίη γνωστός ένεστι τύπος.
ώ πτανοί, μή και ποτ' εφίπτασθαι μεν έρωτες
οίδατ', αποπτηναι δ' ούθ' όσον ισχύετε,
'T is Love that murmurs in my breast,

And makes me shed the secret tear;
Nor day nor night my soul hath rest,

For night and day his voice I hear.
A wound within my heart I find,

And oh ! 't is plain where Love has been;
For still he leaves a wound behind,

Such as within my heart is seen.
Oh, bird of Love! with song so drear,

Make not my soul the nest of pain;
But, let the wing which brought thee here,

In pity waft thee hence again! 2 " The German poet Uz has imitated this ode. Compare also Weisse Scherz. Lieder, lib. üi., 'Der Soldat.""

GAIL, DEGEN.

ODE XXVII.4 We read the flying courser's name Upon his side, in marks of flame; And, by their turbaned brows alone, The warriors of the East are known. But in the lover's glowing eyes, The inlet to his bosom lies;5 Through them we see the small faint

mark, Where Love has dropt his burning spark !

3 No-'t was from eyes of liquid blue,

A host of qaivered Cupids flew. Longepierre has quoted part of an epigram from the seventh book of the Anthologia, which has a fancy something like this:

ου με λέληθας,
τόξοτα, Ζηνοφίλας όμμασι κρυπτόμενος.
Archer Love! though slily creeping,

Well I know where thou dost lie;
I saw thee through the curtain peeping,

That fringes Zenophelia's eye. The poets abound with conceits on the archery of the eyes, but few have turned the thought so naturally as Anacreon. Ronsard gives to the eyes of his mistress un petit camp d'amours.

4 This ode forms a part of the preceding in the Vatican MS., but I have conformed to the edi. tions in translating them separately.

5 But in the lover's glowing eyes,

The inlet to his bosom lies. “We cannot see into the heart,"

says Madame Dacier. But the lover answers —

Il cor ne gli occhi et ne la fronte ho scritto.

M. La Fosse has given the following lines, as enlarging on the thought of Anacreon:

Lorsque je vois un amant,
Il cache en vain son tourment,
A le trahir tout conspire,
Sa langueur, son embarras,
Tout ce qu'il peut faire ou dire,

Même ce qu'il ne dit pas.
In vain the lover tries to veil

The flame that in his bosom lies;
His cheeks' confusion tells the tale,

We read it in his languid eyes :
And while his words the heart betray,
His silence speaks even more than they.

ODE XXVIII. As, by his Lemnian forge's flame, The husband of the Paphian dame Moulded the glowing steel, to form Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm; And Venus, as he plied his art, Shed honey round each new-made dart, While Love, at hand, to finish all, Tipped every arrow's point with gall;1 It chanced the Lord of Battles came To visit that deep cave of flame. 'T was from the ranks of war he rushed, His spear with many a life-drop blushed; He saw the fiery darts, and smiled Contemptuous at the archer-child. “What!” said the urchin, “ dost thou.

smile? Here, hold this little dart awhile, And thou wilt find, though swift of flight, My bolts are not so feathery light.”

Mars took the shaft — and, oh, thy

look, Sweet Venus, when the shaft he took ! Sighing, he felt the urchin's art, And cried, in agony of heart, “ It is not light — I sink with pain ! Take - take thy arrow back again.” “No,” said the child, “ it must not be; That little dart was made for thee!"

ODE XXIX.
Yes — loving is a painful thrill,
And not to love more painful still; 2

2 Yes — loving is a painful thrill,

And not to love more painful still ; etc. The following Anacreontic, addressed by Menage to Daniel Huet, enforces, with much grace, the “necessity of loving.”

περί του δειν φιλήσαι.
προς Πέτρος Δανιηλα Υεττον.

μέγα θαύμα των αοιδών,
χαρίτων θάλος,Υεττε,
φιλέωμεν, ώ εταιρε.
φιλέησαν οι σοφισται.
φιλέησε σεμνός ανήρ,
το τέκνον του Σωφρονίσκου,
σοφίης πατηρ απάσης.
τί δ' άνευ γένοιτ' "Έρωτος;
ακονή μέν έστι ψυχής.*
πτερύγεσσιν εις 'Ολυμπος
κατακειμένους αναίρει.
βραδέας τετηγμένοισι
βελέεσι εξαγείρει.
πυρί λάμπαδος φαεινω
ρυπαρωτέρους καθαίρει.
φιλέωμεν ούν, Υεττε,
φιλέωμεν ώ εταιρε.
αδικώς δε λαιδορούντι
αγίους έρωτας ημών
κακόν εύξομαι το μουνον,
ίνα μη δύναιτ' εκείνος
φιλέειν τε και φιλείσθαι.

TO PETER DANIEL HUET.
Thou! of tuneful bards the first,
Thou! by all the Graces nurst;
Friend! each other friend above,
Come with me, and learn to love.
Loving is a simple lore,
Graver men have learned before;
Nay, the boast of former ages,
Wisest of the wisest sages,
Sophroniscus' prudent son,
Was by love's illusion won.
Oh! how heavy life would move
If we knew not how to love !
Love's a whetstone to the mind;
Thus 't is pointed, thus refined.
When the soul dejected lies,
Love can waft it to the skies;
When in languor sleeps the heart,
Love can wake it with his dart;
When the mind is dull and dark,
Love can light it with his spark !
Come, oh! come then, let us haste
All the bliss of love to taste;
Let us love both night and day,
Let us love our lives away!
And when hearts, from loving free,
(If indeed such hearts there be,)
Frown upon our gentle flame,
And the sweet delusion blame;

1 While Love, at hand, to finish all,

Tipped every arrow's point with gall. Thus Claudian :Labuntur gemini fontes, hic dulcis, amarus alter, et infusis corrumpit mella venenis, unde Cupidineas armavit fama sagittas. In Cyprus’ isle two rippling fountains fall, And one with honey flows, and one with gall; In these, if we may take the tale from fame, The son of Venus dips his darts of flame.

See Alciatus, emblem 91., on the close connection which subsists between sweets and bitterness. "A pes ideo pungunt [says Petronius), quia ubi dulce, ibi et acidum invenies.

The allegorical description of Cupid's employment, in Horace, may vie with this before us in fancy, though not in delicacy ::

- ferus et Cupido
semper ardentes acuens sagittas

cote cruentâ. And Cupid, sharpening all his fiery darts, Upon a whetstone stained with blood of hearts.

Secundus has borrowed this, but has somewhat softened the image by the omission of the epithet cruentâ." Fallor an ardentes acuebat cote sagittas?

Eleg. 1.

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* This line is borrowed from an epigram by Alpheus of Mitylene which Menage, I think, says somewhere he was himself the first to produce to the world :

ψυχής έστιν "Έρως ακονή.

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