MASTER NEGA TIVE NO. 91-80274 MlA :i.q ^; | jj ; j g j ^^ \ > > /' SELECT ODES OP \ N A C R E N, WITH CRITICAL ANNOTATIONS. TO WHICH ARE ADDED ).ANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS OF OTHER ANCIENT AUTHORS. Hv 7.iE LATE Rev. HERCULES YOUNGE. And publishc'l by the Rev. Robert Drought. :l£kOa> kvxx^norn avnafnro. — Anthol, LONDON. ED FOR VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY, By Janes Swan, Angel Street, Newgate Street. ■ \ 1802. X .-■Vi TO THE UIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF MOIllA. 53757 '29FEB84 M A My Lord, iViNG Ions; contemplated the cha- u :ter o<'E«rl ISfoira with silent, though ce 'e veneration, it is niij^usMoie for Vb resist profiting by the opportunity kxi the publication of these posthu- U'. papers, of a near and dear rela- 3,1 1 affords, of testifying it to the ^^<'c\j, by inscribing them to a noble- Ur)nl who has taste to appreciate, and »Arledge to distinguish, their merits: ] t-is a highly gratifying circumstance iiid, that, though I am not prepared, a 2 IV DEDICATION. or, I fear, competent, to make this n* nifestation by my own talents, yet I si not go out of my family to assure yc lordship, that I am Your very obedient, humble servant, Robert DrouIgi dairies^ Worcester, 8th of May, 1802. P \ il V ^i'*" * PREFACE. s easier to imagine than to describe the '?le >ure I feh on receiving my friend Mr. ^'rntt's opinion, confirming my own, and that ' • arious others, whom I had consaked, .1 the Anacreontics, translated by my led and ingenious relative ; more espe- /, as they could not have received any in their judgement from the partiaUty ti. l^^ight naturally be supposed to influence mirRj And, yet, had no such endearing af- 7 subsisted between me and the author, '. persuaded I should have thought and ieii, ^s I expressed myself, on the high me- ''^ of the translations: and I am particu- proud, that my friends in general sanc- tK':. ipy idea of there being greater delicacy, V if I may use the terms of one of the most ingenious and learned of those friends, t warmeft glow of passion, shaded by a lier modesty in such of the odes as re- VI PREFACE. quired it." Though it must have beer a very skilful hand that these chaste^ touches were given, without injury to rich and joyous imagery which character^- the Grecian bard. *' A chaste yet animated selection of captivating Odes of the Teian bard," serves Mr. Pratt, in a letter now before *' giving, in a fashionable pocket volume ihe BEAUTIES of Anacreon, in a liberal, guarded, translation, so as to preserve th. lightful sport, the jovial sentiments, andj; -' ful spirit of the original, without brir,^ ng forward anything that o'ersteps the bcj i'^''^- of modesty, appears to be ^ desideratii? m English poetry. •* The majority of the notes will be j • ' fving chiefly to those who are intimate '- the Greek ; yet, besides that the commenuxy is too valuable to be lost, it seems t dient to admit this estimable addition, out swelling the size, or increasing the ; of the book, by printing the original t( each ode. These illustrations not only i an agreeable and general light upon the 'sub \ PREFACE. Vll y-Vi .J.' l\ [ t and the author, that may assist the En- - .h reader, but present the learned with op- - tunities of reference, augmenting at the . le time the reputation of the erudite trans- 'j.or. a I will now own, that my sense of the ex- ■ence of these selections, aided, no doubt, • my sincere respect for the translator, has g inspired a latent wish to extend the plea- e I received, by making them public— I i-, therefore, scarcely help repeating the ■ 1 .'-'Tee of gratification I experience from the ze:>l with which the friend, above-mentioned, offerst to assist me in arranging the manu- ^.;^;p^s, — an offer, of which I have availed j^ijself with the utmost alacrity: and I have endeavoured, at his request, to collect such Iris memorabilia of the translator, as my I memory, or that of my friends, can lish. \ AN ACCOUNT OF THE TRANSLATOR. k^ The account of the ingenious and learned author of the following translation, the late Reverend iiERCULRs YouNGE, Is Very scanty of materials. His grandmother was daughter of the illustrious, vut unfortunate Montmorenci, High Constable of I Vance j who, after the revocation of the famous edict of Nantes, was imprisoned as a Hugonot. The violent and indignant exertions of this eminent Frenchman, to prevent his enemies from loading him with chains, occasioned the rupture of a blood- \ essel, which quickly terminated his sufferings and his life. The daughter of Montmorenci married Le Jeune, , Hugonot gentleman of high distinction, who, rireading lest his son Lewis (the father of our Au- THE TRANSLATOR. XI * ACCOUNT OF thor) should imbibe the popish religion, sent him privately, to Holland. From thence he was invited to Ireland by his maternal uncle, the pious Dr Drelmcourt, who was appointed to the deanery of Armagh by William the Third, and is well known to the literary world by his celebrated treatise on Death. On the arrival of Lewis in Ireland, he translated his name, Le Jeune.to its English equivalent '^Youn^e; and was entered a fellow commoner of Trinity Col- lege, Dublin, where he was educated at his uncle's expense. His grandmother, who remained ii> France, had appointed him heir to her splendid fortunes : but, before she could procure an agen*: ot approved integrity, she was seised by a violent dis order, which obliged her to intrust the whole of h^ immense property to the care of a popish pries, who, after solemnly promising to convey it to hci grandson Lewis, fraudulently converted the rica prize to his own use, asserting, that it was contrai v to the dictates of his tender conscience to give &o much money to a heretic. This was not the only loss, great as it might b which our author's father had to lament j k about the same time, he was deprived of the i: sistance and friendship of his uncle, whom he hf n disobliged by an eariy marriage with a lady of gn ■4,.. . s^,& V^cauty and accomplishments, but not of equal rank, . -an offence rarely forgiven by ambitious or avan- f'ious parents. Thus circumstanced, he was thrown on his lite- rary talents for support. But, possessing a brilhant natural genius, highly improved by academical edu- nation, his pen readily procured him a handsome subsistence, so long as the Earl of Chesterfield pre- ,ided as chief governor of Ireland. Durmg that .plendid aera, Mr. Younge published a poem, en- itled, '' The Leveer The easy, flowing numbers, ..>oint^ satire, delicate irony, and polished wit of 'this little piece, strongly recommended him to his lordship's notice. The earl presented him to the . ,nly church-preferment vacant during his adminis- u-ation, and obtained for him, from his successor, a promise of the first bishoprick that should fall in his ift. These gracious intentions were frustrated by Mr. Younge's unexpected death: and it is to be re- gretted, that an interefting literary correspondence 'retween Lord Chesterfield and Mr. Younge has l.«en lost. Mr. Younge's eldest son (our author) was edu- ated at the university of Dublin, where he was minently distinguished for his literary talents, and he strict propriety of his conduct. When or- iained, the Bishop of Waterford, at the desire of Lord xn ACCOUNT, &:c.' Chesterfield, who still extended to him his patronacr^ gave him a valuable living in his diocese. Mr. Younge usually resided at Carvick on Suir, where his time was divided between study, and the con scientious discharge of his parochial duties. Di Newton, late bishop of Bristol, acknowledges him self indebted to our author for several ingeniou , hints, in his well-known Dissertations on the Pro- phecies. Mr. Younge remained in retirement, greatly u spected by all who had the pleasure of his acquain- ance. He was usually called the Christian S( crates, on account of his uncommon patience i cheerfully submitting to a wife whose temper pn cured her the 'appellation of a serond Xanthipp«.- Though our author survived his thirteen childte? and languished for many years under a painful di^ ease j yet he bore his misfortunes with that pioji.^ resignation, which, by precept and example, he hal always enforced on the minds of his parishioners.- He died the 14th of January, 17QS, aged 77 j ao mired for his talents, and revered for his virtues. THE %■■ '-^k- J LIFE OF ANACREON Anacreon, a Greek poet, was born atTeos, a vea-port of Ionia. Madame Dacier endeavours to prove from Plato, that he was a kinsman of Solon, and consequently allied to the Codnd^ .he noblest family in Athens j but this is not suf- nciently supported. The time when he flounshed is uncertain 3 Eusebius placing it in the 62d, Suidas 1 the 52d, and Mr. Le Fevre in the 72d, Olym- .iad He is said to have been about eighteen years of age, when Harpagus, the general of Cyrus, came •rith an army against the confederate cities of the lo'nians and iEolians. The Milesians immediately .Ibmitted themselves 5 but the Phocaeans, when they found themselves unable to withstand the ene- my, chose rather to abandon their country than .heir liberty ; and, getting a fleet together, trans- ported themselves and their families to the coast of France, where, being hospitably received by Nan- nus, king of the country, they built Marseilles. TheTeians soon followed their example j for, Har- nagus having made himself master of their walls, they unanimously went on board their ships, and, nilin^ to Thrace, fixed themselves in the city XIV LIFE OF ANACREOX. LIFE OF ANACREON, XV Abdera. They had not been there long, when ti .> Thracians, jealous of their new neighbours, endea- voured to give them disturbance j and in these con^ flicts it seems to have been, that Anacreon lost tho.:^ friends whom he celebrates in his epigrams. Th poet had certainly a most delicate wit, but was tc -, fond of pleasures ; for love and wine had the di* posal of all his hours. Ovid himself, though" so great a libertine, censures Anacreon for devoting his Muse entirely to Bacchus and Venus : Quid, nisi cum multo Venercm corifundeie vino, Pr^cepit lyrici Te'ia musa senis ? Anacreon left Abdera, and went to the court <:.i Polycrates, at Samos, where he was received with great marks of friendship : and it was here he^e- came enamoured with the handsome Bathylluf^, whom Horace mentions in the following passacyerl Non aliter Samio di^unt arsisse Bathyilo Anacreon ta TeVum, Qui persaepe cava testudine flevit amorem. He is said also to have loved the fair Cleobulus whom he had like to have killed, when a child, in the arms of his nurse, by nidely running agains her, as he reeled one day through the streets in li- quor ; and, not content with this, he abused th*- child with scurrilous language. But the nurs - fjffw-^ •»»*»i '»-.*•.■■ wished he might one day commend him as much as he had then abused him : and her wishes were ful- filled • for, Cleobulus growing to be a beautiful youth, Anacreon fell in love with him, and wrote several verses in his pmise. iElian has endea- voured to clear Anacreon from the suspicion of exi- tertaining any dishonourable passion for these youths 3 but the general charge against him, in this -e^^pect, is strong. How long Anacreon continued It Samos, is uncertain j but it is probable he re- mained there during the greatest part of the reign of Polycrates j for Herodotus assures us that Ana- creon was with that prince in his chamber, when he received a message from Oroetes, governor of Sardis, by whose treachery Polycrates was soon af- te'f betrayed, and inhumanly crucified. It seems tc have been a little before this, that Anacreon left Samos, and removed to Athens ; having been in- vited thither by Hipparchus, the eldest son of Pi- sistratus, one of the most virtuous and learned princes of his time j who, as Plato assures us, sent an obliging letter, with a vessel of fifty oars, to convey him over the ^gaean sea. After Hippar- chus, was slain by the conspiracy of Harmodius and Aristogiton, Anacreon returned to Teos, where he remained till the revolt of Histiaeus, when he was obliged once more to remove to Abdera, where he XVI LIFE OP ANACREON. died. The manner of his death is said to h been very extraordinary j for they tell us he xv.- choked with a grape-ftone, which he swallowed, he was regaling on some new wine. A small pi only of Anacreon's works remains. Besides o and epigrams, he composed elegies, hymns, r, iambics : the poems which are extant, con.i^f chiefly of Bacchanalian songs and love-sonnc ^ They have been frequently printed 3 but the prin cipal editions are, that of Madame Dacier, wiU aFrench version, at Paris, l682, in 12mo5 andtha.. Qf Joshua Barnes, of Cambridge, 1705, in 12mo, The Odes of Anacreon,says Rapin,are flowers, bea.. ties, and perpetual graces 5 it is familiar to him tr write what is natural, and to the life ; having m air so delicate, so easy, and so graceful, that, amo . : all the ancients, there is nothing comparable to hi » He flows soft and easy, every-where difflising th. joy and indolence of his mind through his vers»^ and tuning his harp to the smooth and pleasai.: temper of his soul. To the same puq^ose the lit! i- god of love, as taught to speak by Mr. Cowley : All thy verse is softer far Than the downy feathers are Of my wings, or of my arrows, Of my mother's doves and sparrows} Graceful, cleanly, smooth, and round, All with Venus' girdle bound. 4, ANACREON. ODE I*. ON HIS LYRE. s \ 1 LONG to sing of glorious spoils. Of Cadmus' acts, Atrides' toils, And higher flights to prove ; Yet see, the stubborn lyre denies t, * This seems to make a good preface to the following Odes ) for I cannot discover, as Mr. Baimea has done, any kind of sublimity in them. f 'Bafinoq.'] We find this noun in every gen- ier J sometimes o, sometimes i, and sometimes to ^apCtTw. — The latest critic on these Odes, whom I hUve seen, is a Monsieur Pauiv, the most insolent, ajbusive, and dogmatical writer upon earth. He treats Barm.$ as if he was a remarkable blockhead. Rejects my wish'd attempts to rise, And all its notes are love. For this Ichang'd my ev'ry string*, Resolv'd Herculean might to sing, But impotently strove : It is true that Banies was not thought to have mu(-J taste for poetry, since he tells us that the wits ci his university applied to him the proverb Ow? «r^ ^t>p«>, when busied about his version j but he retort cd, by saying, no, I am not Oto?, but you want © io, vpoq P^fxt, which seems like a pun, though 1 belie> it was undesigned. However, both^as to taste and| > knowledge of the Greek language, he was certainl not inferior to M. Pauiv. [ * H/Ai»>|/a] / changed my strings and the whdiir lyre. i. e. as Barnes justly observes, I change . Collahosy veriiculosy pectinan, &c. but Pauiu say. the poet took a different lyre. Pro lyru, quam an- tea iuLbebam, aliam lyrain sunisi — (^ul ncrvos mutai alios sumit pro aliis ; sic similiter, qui lyram mutw aliam sumit pro alia. — For what purpose shoulc Anacreon change the strings of an instrument, if h' did not intend to use it ? Why in the forty-eightl' Ode does he call for Homer's lyre, but ^onjjj anv^' 3 The lyre, rebellious, gave a tone, For tender themes attun'd alone ; And all its notes were love. P(jop3V}?, xvithout the bloody string, if strings were not changed for different tones ? Beside, it seems evident from the whole ode, that the posopopoeia cannot be transferred, from the lyre which our bard constantly made use of, to another ; for, says he, I attempted epic poetry, but my lyre refused j and though I changed the strings and the whole lyre, yet still it opposed my design. Now, if he took a second, we must sure believe that it was «fAa (poticua^ xo?^^**:* with bloody strings : and is it poetical justice to ima- gine, that a lyre would refuse tones for which it was contrived, and to which it was ever accustomed ? As to the phrases, my iihole lyre is changed, the whole countiy is changed, the man is quite changed, or be- come a new man, and such like, in the sense of much altered, they are frequent in every language. It seems to have been the practice formerly to use strings of different sizes for different subjects : and I suppose that strong and thick ones, in the forty-eighth Ode, above quoted, are meant by the bloody strings; for, of several tuned unisons, the thickest, of necessity, is the loudest. Adieu then, flatt'ring hope, adieu ! I quit the great but dang'rous view, As far my lyre above ; It strongly warns, it cries, *' resign ** The swelling sound, the touch divine," And plays alone to love. sSii ODE 11. ON WOMEN. Nature arm'd the bull with horn; Bid strong hoofs the steed adorn ; Swiftness lent the tim'rous hare ; Lions might, and teeth severe; Fishes made to skim the wave ; Birds the passive air to cleave ; Last, to man, superior sense * Gave, for weapons and defence. * Prudent iam viris dat. Staph. Anmositai et hellica virtus. Barnes. Fr ester prudentiam, constaU' tia et robur; halbutiuiU interpretes, nam sola prudent ticiy sola virtus hellica nan sujicit. Pauw. I cannot think that robur was ever included in ^fovviux ; and the version of Barnes does not seem to agree with his annotation J for, says he, utut leones,pcr se, etiam supra homines sint ?nagnanimi, non rare tamen hi etiam ilios aggredi audent, arte nempe hellica et vmatica Thus her store of bounty drain'd*. What for woman yet remain'd? • imtntcti. Si quis hie prudentiam relit dtsiirnari, om- nino illi ^pomcnr legendurUj — non f poi-rfxa. Certainly prudence is necessary, if we design to attack a lion. Indet^d the meaningr of Aiiacreon is so clear, that the dispute does not seem to be very material j for, since both (pfottifjta and ^ponncrt; are derived «7ro t» ^po>i»r, reason must be intended, in whatever manner ap- plied. I have seen it observed, but cannot recollect by what author, that ^po»»j7i? denotes a speculative, and ^pvnua. a practical, prudence. * r«;»a4|»>, K. T. X.] Literally, Nothing remained for women, ruuiu attempts here to be very severe j this thought, says he, \sfrigida et inepta. An omnia qua exceliunt igiturjam enumerata ? absit, absit ; ubi, exempli gratia, est astutia vulpibus tributa ? &c. — Addamaliud: ipse bonus sibi contradicit ; nam ubi dixerat, imturam nihil habuisse amplius quod largire- turfeminis, eodem fere spiritu pidchritndinem protnit — hoc est, eodem ore calidum etfrigidum effiare sijnul. With this Mr. Barnes agrees ; for those, he thinks, who render f fomfAot prudence, nimis injurii mnt muli- ebri sexui. Hence it appears, that, according to the sentiments of our critics, the word nothing must alwavs strictly denote non-entity, or, according to Beauty, captivating charms, Pow'rful o'er the force of arms — the vulgar phraseology. Nothing at all j whereas all things, all men, nothing, no mm, and such-like expressions, are generally used for most, or few, in every language. In my apprehension, the poet says only, that Nature had but a few things remaining, out of which she could make a choice. Pauw goes on — sed quid ? an pulchritudo non communis quoqui ill is (viris), et ut mulieres sunt pulchrce, ita rmres etiam sunt pukhri? de eo non dubitandum.—Yerj tnie sometimes : yet methinks that he should not forget horses, since a fine horse is doubtless a beautiful creature. Is it not sufficient, in such an ode as this, to describe any person or thing by a characteristic } but if a characteristic means only a property or qua- lity which some being, or species of beings, has in exclusion of all others, I suppose that a proper cha- racteristic is not to be found in the whole creation ; fishes, bats, insects, &c. flyj birds, beasts, &c. swim, and this kind of connexion is plainly ob- servable through all the world. Our inimitable Milton gives the following description of Adatn and Eve ; For contemplation he, and valour, form'd ; For softness she, and sweet attractive grace. 9 Beauty, whose imperial sway Fire, and steel, and all obey! Though some men are handsome, and some wo- men contemplative or resolute, I believe that no reader ever thought these epithets injurious to either sex, or found any sort of impropriety in them. The ladies are very properly, in our language, xar* i|ox»j», styled the Fair, However, Pmiw strikes Opposi- tion dumb, by adding, {^ui non sentit hcec inepta esse, et 7/iale coagnientat/Ty nihil revera sentit , which is his general proof on all occasions. It is to be hoped that we may understand nihil here in the limited sense which I have given to it, though strengthened by the additional word revera ; otherwise, a reader is told, that if he doth not perceive the justice of our critic's remarks, he is, strictly speaking, a mere block, and totally void of all perception. ODE III. ON CUPID. 'TwAS now midnight, the rain severe ; By slow Bootes roU'd the Bear; And human kind, with toil oppress'd, Indulg'd the hour of balmy rest. When treach'rous Love contriv'd a lure,> And struck, importunate, my door. Who knocks ? said I ; your hasty blows Disturb'd my dreams and soft repose*. ** A harmless child," reply 'd the pow'r: " (Then fear no guile, though late the hour) * Sx*''"?] ^^^' B^^'^^s has changed the origi- nal here, and, instead of <7;^»a»$, reads cx^ffoc^, but without any necessity , for sometimes the future is used instead of past time by poetical licence. See examples in Pauw. 10 *• Who, tir'd and wet, has lost the road, ** And hopes reliei in your abode." The story mov'd : I rose in haste, Prepar'd my lamp, and saw my guest. Wing'd was the boy, and arms he wore. Behind him shafts, a bow before. Close to the fire 1 made him stand. There warm'd in mine each little hand, Press'd floods of water from his hair*. And try'd assiduous ev'ry care. When, thus employ'd, my friendly part Had eas'd the cold, and cheer'd his heart, ** I fear," said he, ** the show'ry sky •* Has spoil'd my bow-string: let me try." * vyfov v^up] the wet iiater. It was not unusual to increase an idea by the addition of tautologous epithets. Thus Pindar, ^ffffo? ai^ofjuvov wpi'^liqui- da nat tibi linter aqua. Tibull.— and in the eastern style, we read of a Jiaming flame, and of a burning, fiery fu)'n(ice , 11 Quick then his deadly bow he drew, Discharg'd, and pierc'd me through and through*. Away now flits the wily boy, And, titt'ring, cries, " Pray, wish me joy ;- ** The bow, unhurt, can show'rs endure : " Perhaps your heart is less secure t." * mctf] pierced my liver. Some authors con- sidered the liver, and others the heart, as the seat of love : our poet here makes those bowels sympathe- tic j for, when his liver is wounded, his heart is sup- posed immediately to be affected. f That Cupid was fond of mischief, a xaxojtAa- ;^avo$, is the complaint of every poet. If he pre- tends to be in distress, it is for some unlucky de- sign. K jjir WOT »J>35 xXaw>T«, 0ojto^5, auriconius,flavicoinus, and such like, mean what we term flaxen hair. Ha»9o? and flavus are commonly said of corn. I have seen a masterly picture of Venus with fiery hair, though locks, truly red, were as disagreeable to ancient, as they are to modem taste. Theocritus, describing two homely swains, says |u.iv avruf Ht/^^?, ^ rj^iVEMio; Half-bearded one, the other Jieiy-fiaird. and in Martial, Crine ruber is the sign of a rogue. Flaxen hair is very properly given to Cupid, as a child ', for most adults, whom we %ee with brown, in their childhood had flaxen hair. 91 ODE VII. ON CUPID. Cupid, who limp'd, his end to gain. Supported on a purple cane *, * "teuLtt^m fAi ga^^w] Pauw seems here to be more than commonly unfortunate in his observations. Hand dubie, says he, intelligendus estftoris hyacin- ihi scapus : nam, quod de coloris hyacinthini sceptro narrant interpreUs, ineptum videtur mihi. Cur, qua' so, sceptrum Cupidinis eo colore infectmn ? cur natu- mlisligni color mutatus? Nugce,Nug(£. — 'stuicquid de nativo colore mutato, et inducto colore hyacinthino, vlri eruditi perhibent, non sit unius assis. Nos recte et vere, Why should the wand of Cupid be made a beautiful colour ? for the same reason, I suppose, that we stain and varnish our modern walking- sticks,^The critic proceeds— Am7*c scapum svmsit, ut sibi Usui esset, eoque ad sequendum adegit miserum. — How or whence it may be collected, that our bard was to follow, and Cupid to lead the way, I cannot tell -, nor do I conceive that the small stalk •f a small flower could be a fit instrument for com- pulsion. 522 Who slowly mov'd with tott'ring pace*, Defy'd me once to run a race. % While o'er the rocks and tumbling floods, Deep hideous vales, and thorny woods. With eager haste I ran, I flew. Some lurking serpent pierc 'd me through f . * Xd^trv^ ^ah^tml ^diking with dificulti/. Mr. Barnes has Qat^t^otr instead of Qa^ut. I must confess that he is too guilty of deceiving a reader by substituting words of his own choice in place of the original text. Bo^tf^rr', which he takes from Heimius, makes the poet struggle against Cupid j whereas he seems to undertake the race instantly, and without any compulsion. If I guess rightly at the scope of this ode, the reading of Ileinsius en- tirely spoils the whole. A critic may put what conjectures he pleases into his notes 5 but the ori- ginal should not be corrupted. t T^p^aoTflt wi»^« v^?] a serpent wounded me. I wish that I could find some authority for reading T^;^ao»6* «i»gi» : for then Cupid would be the ser- pent^ and his desire to run, a scheme to wound the {X)et, while busied and off his guard. This would, at least, be characteristical, and agreeable to several 1-;??? 1 53 High bounc'd my flutt'ring heart: I swoon d»< And half expir'd ; so great the wound. odes. But I will always object against such liber- ties as are taken by some critics ; and have trans- lated the passage as it is found in the edition of StepJuinus; to explain which, we may suppose that the malicious deity seduced the bard into places so infested by serpents, that he knew it was almost impossible for him to escape. * Kg»J.„ h ^.ro? ax^i A«C«»«] w/j/ heart leaped up to my nose. This phrase is, at least, as old as Ho- mer ; and among us, my li^art leaped up to my viouth, which we say often, is a literal version of that emi- nent poet. Tr ^tfJ^o^ avrn As I do not remember this thought to have been taken notice of by any commentator, perhaps an ^.t- tempt to explain the cause of it may not be unac- ceptable to the reader. When a person is sudden- ly affected by a wound or terror, the blood runs to the heart in a copious stream : this is manifested by a consequent paleness of the cheeks j but the muscle not being able to contain it, a wave is re- pelled, by the systole, in the vein, by anatomisti called the Vena cava descaidais, which rising above 24 # Then nodded Love his treach'rous head*. Exulting, clapp'd his wings, and said : the heart at its junction with it, the pulsation felt, is supposed to be in the heart, though, in reality made against the vein. Mtrtnra cuuv, airahot^ wTigoi] a small hynm. Anacreon, observe the critics, was a writer of Odes, and not of Hymns ; but the difference, in my opinion, is not so 30 31 Now his fair one I pursue, Charg'd to give this billet-doux. Once he told me — " Dove," said he, ** Soon I mean to set you free." — But, so easy now my case, Should I quit the happy place ? Should I range the hill and wood. Seeking mean and scanty food ? Now securely I may stand. Crumbs receiving from his hand ; Or, if thirsty, go and sup Wine delicious from his cup. Cheer'd with this, I play and bound*. Nimbly dancing on the ground ; great as to prevent a poet from using them, for the sake of variety, as synonymous terms. * llMaa y at x<^^ivcv'] Grdca laborant levitt r, says Pauw ; for the word should be written yo^ivu. A-gainst this I have not any objection j and Stq)h, Then caress the bard, and spread Both my pinions o'er his head ; translates it salio. Mr. Pope, speaking of poets and critics, observes, ihat -less dang'rous is th' offence To tire our patience than misguide our sease. I will avoid the greater offence, to the best of my judgement, by acknowledging, that a bird drunk and dancing is the most ridiculous and preposteroua thought which appears among all the Grecian poets. The writer was infamously attached to liquor, who supposes that even a bird could not be happy with- out it. L/et a painter attempt such an image j and if he puts the bird out of its natural, easy posture, it will appear to a spectator as just shot, or other- wise dying in strong convulsions. I cannot pass unnoticed the judgement of self-praising, abusive, and insolent M. Pauw. Having first told us that Barnes nares habebat obesas, he proceeds — venuste indicat, columbat/h"Saltare velle, et saltare ttiam posse, cum iinum'-'uvide exhauscrat; illud ad sal- tandum excitabat molhculam ; absque eo, vix saltare pottrat, aut saltare cupiebat. Nihil suavius. What a poetical painter is Pauw ! 32 Last, to quiet sleep retire. Perching on the very lyre. Thus I told — a prattling jay — All my case — now go my way*. * AwixSi] Such is the judgement of Fawn;, that he speaks with as much diffidence when right, as with insolence when plainly wrong j ntscio an satis conveniens sit illud airiy.^t. This mscio may be true J fallor, aiit po'tta scripsit airth^u ; nescio quid alii dicturi sint ; this nescio is false 3 for he well knew that H. Steph. had rendered the word, valeto. Every one sees that awixGi undoubtedly must be wrong ; for the enquirer, for aught appears to the contrar)', was standing idle, whereas the dove was hastening on her message, and therefore should say, / tnust be gone ; otherwise the Ode does not con- clude, qualis ab inccsjpto ^rocesserai ; nee sibi constat. 33 ■ A^*'' •- ^ ODE X. ON A WAXEN IMAGE OF CUFID, A Youth, as once it so befell, Propos'd a waxen Love to sell. I quickly went, and said, " My boy, ** What price will buy that curious toy*?" The youth reply'd, in Doric phrase t, ** Why, master, take it as you please; * Exwr^»a>/xai cT«5] Alluswn ad T^»a? k'Suffiu Exstat Try- phiodori poema, cui nomen IX»a AKuctk;', et Petro- nius, '' sed video totum te in ilia haerere tabula " quae Trojae Halosin ostendit." Bames.^Thh adoption of Greek into Latin, Horace approves, as follows, -^"^mota factaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si Gracofonte cadant T Aff' Q^oktat] I believe that there are not any two figurative expressions so common as those which \ m .r^-' V 41 give darts to the eyes, and fire to love. Thus Musceus, Utt 0^^a?MUt *E^Wf o>v»a$a(y<(, Ksn I'm (p^na^ atd^o; odiuii. The reason why darts are thrown by the eyes, according to Xcnophoiiy is, because iro^iuht nr^uaKUfftj a much better reason than we have from Proper- tius, who says, Anteferit quoniam tuti qitam cemimns ho'^tem. This implies that a lover is wounded before he can see the object. The same poet has almost literally translated the beginning of this ode ; €wn tibi Cadmece dkimtur, Pontice, Thebce, &fc. 42 ODE XVII. ON A SILVER BOWL. Come, Vulcan, take that silver ore. But forge destructive arms no more ; They much affright my soul*. No, all your wond'rous art employ, To mould that lovely scene of joy, A deep, capacious bowl. * Ti ya^ yLuypt\a\ >taao»;] What have I to do with battles? This kind of phraseolog)'' is common in the Old and New Testament, where it never has any other sense than, what communication is there between particular persons ? Yet our universal his- torians translate t» J(Ix»» xat ao*, yvKxt j tchat is that to you and to me ? and the Rheims Bible^ still more ab- surdly gives us, what to me and to thee ? which even Maldonatus allows to be an insupportable version. It is/' says he, *' a. pious interpretation : but the idiom of the language cannot bear it ; for I find. €( t< M< 43 J^or Pleiads grave, nor heav'nly signs, Nor stars, nor wains, nor quaint designs ; But stretch the vine above : ** by the constant usage of Scripture, that the *' phrase signifies, nihil huic cum alio esse com- *' muner The Jesuit, (no doubt against his will) is most clearly right ; I say against his will ; for he proceeds to make false and weak apologies for the text, though obliged to confess that it expressed a rebuke of the Virgin, according to all the primitive fathers of the church. Our historians however tell us, that the words contain a Hebrew idiom, and refer us to a parallel in Sam. xix. 22. and 1 Kings, xvii. 18. It is really astonishing to think, that, if a reader will be at the trouble of looking at those pas- sages, he will, at first sight, perceive, that our cri- tics, by their translation, make palpable nonsense of them both. We have the phrase in question re- peated here three several times — What have 1 to do with battles ? What have I to do with the Pleiades ? what with tlie constellation of Bootes ? Will these bear the old exploded version, which our critical historians have revived ? It makes sense indeed of the text for which they propose it ; but it does so by mere accident only ; it does so, because it hap- \ 44 Then show, in gold, my beauteous fair*; Let sportive Bacchus too be there, With ever-conqu'ring Love. pens to be a reply. How would it sound in any other parts of the Gospel ? For example ; when a demoniac starts from the tombs, sure we cannot say that he accosts our Lord with, " what is tlu.t to *' you or to me?" before one word is spoken to which the relative has any relation. How often is even learning absurdly misapplied ! * Bar6t;A>.c;] See the note on Ole IX. The bard, by representing his iairone in gold, places her on a level with the other divinities. An old piiet has so disposed his metals as to give the figures almost their proper colours, except that Jupiter, as chiefs is formed of gold. A^yv^ton fAfp fi). NsiXa ^0?, K. T. A. In bras? the heifer shofe ; in silver roll'd A little Nile i but Jove appear'd in gold. i •■»■-. &'•■**■ 45 ODE XIX. ON THE NECESSITY OF DRINKING. This fertile earth imbibes the rain*; The trees her moisture drink again f; * *H yrt ixsXmvoi] the black earth; this epithet not sounding well in English, I render it fej'tile ; and indeed black, applied to earth, znA fertile, are al- most synonymous terms. Haodotus, Plutarch, Virgil, and many others, have obser\'ed that black soils give a copious harvest. Egypt, Melambolus, and (as Plutarch seems to think) Chania, are names of similar import, denoting the dark colour of that country, which feeds Constantinople at present, as it did ancient Rome. t n»»» ^£ ^ni\i uvrr,v.'] the trees drink her, (the earth.) Inepialocutio,itiis.c\-dm\s< Pauw : arboresnon bibunt terram, scd humorem in terra occlusmn, quo ita ditantur solo, ut etiam extra terram vivere et luxuriari possent, si humor ille larga copia suppeteret. Res est quatn otnnes hodie sciunt; quure neque bonus I 46 47 The swelling ocean drinks the gales ; From him the thirsty sun exhales *; poeta, nequc bonus fuit philosophus, qui hctc scripsit. That a few succulent plants will grow in water, is known to every person : but that large forest trees can thrive luxuriously in the same manner, is a new discovery, made by M. Pauw. Waving, how- ever, this question, I cannot agree with our critic, that to drink the earth, is inepta locutio ; nor will I, on his sole authority, discard a figure which has been constantly made use of by all writers, ancient and modem, sacred and profane. Who does not say, / drank a cup or a glass, lest some mighty critic should tell him that he is a blockhead, and did not, in reality, swallow the cup or glass ? When the poet observes that trees drink the earth, does he not plainly consider the earth as a cup, ill which water undoubtedly is contained ? Such little cheerful pieces as these Odes should not be treated with severity. Many of them, perhaps, were extempore compositions. Every one can be a snarier ; but few are judicious critics. Rejecting all figures, is it certain that great trees are nourished^' by the pure element of water, without some ad- dition of earth ? I suppose it is not 3 for w< chemically analysed, gives a residuum, or cap^ The moon, as thirsty, copious streams f Insatiate drinks of solar beams. mortuum, which is nothing but earth effete j and spring-water, evaporated, leaves a proportion of earth j it is therefore highly probable, that some particles of it, so minute as not to be discovered in the purest water, are taken up, with the water, into the pores of a tree. * 'HAto? da.Xaffffoit.'] the sun drinks the sea. Lucan makes it a question, whether spring-tides, as we call them, arc raised up by the moon or by the sun ; if by the sun, that he does it to drink the waves. an sidi've mota secundo Telhj/os unda laga: lunar ibus icstuet horis; FUuwni'j^er an Titan, ut alentes hauriat undas, Jirizai oceanum. f Tor 'H>»o> 5:£^»)>»3.] the moon drinks the sun. Hoc eiiam, says the great critic, ineptum est ; an Luna hibit Solcm, quia lucern ab eo mutuatur ? et lux pro potu luiberi potest ? Nugce, nugce. Kociamua^ott pro absorberi swntum apud Grdcos, notaru hie inter' prctesy ut duritiem mitigerU, credo : sed quid illud, ubi de potu senno est, et ad potum coUimant singula ? Ut brcvitcr dicam, quod res est ; ineptiit poeta, h(sc iiapawrcns; et indignus est cui patrocinetur quisquam. 48 49 in drinking, then, since all agree, What friend can justly censure me ? The surface of our planet undoubtedly absorbs a large portion of rays ; that the moon does not, but reflects all, like a looking-glass, will hardly be proved to our satisfaction by the astronomical M. Pauw. And may not absorbing be called drinking, without any great violence to poetical licence ? There is such a large number of odes on drink- ing, and such a disgusting sameness runs through all, that I have omitted the majority of them. I shall, however, take notice of any phrase in those omitted, which appears to require some animad- version. -"^i ODE XX. ON HIS MISTRESS. Old Tantalus' daughter, give credit to Fame*, Was chang'd from a nymph, and a statue be- came ; And Procne, her form of a beauty resign'd, Flies up, in a swallow, as quick as the wind. This Ode has been imitated by a cloud of poc'.s, and almost in every language. A QoyiQivffx fxt:>Affaot, y.on e? Teo» atrT^on wo»/xa». Theoc. O utinam subito fieri niea miina'a possim. Ovid. O were I made, by some transforming pow'r. The captive bird that sings within thy bow'r ! Pope. * 'H Ta>TaXy, X. t. X.] HcreiWithas discovered two eminent blunders. Kou (quadrat hie Niobes ex- eniplum ; nam ea formam non mutavit. — Si intntem habuisset odarii auctory Pr-jtewn ct Periclymenuju hie debuisset ccmimemorare,-'sic a viris duxisstt extmplumy non a muUerculis, ut nunc satis insulse facit. Quart D 50 May 1 be a mirror, my fairest to please ; That full on my bosom you ever should gaze* ; Or let me transform'd in a tunic appear, Your waist to encircle, your breast to be near. hie statim in principio duplex est lyrici minus eruditi peccatum. But a change was made from rational to irrational nature, which is enough for the poeti- cal purpose. Beside, the gallant bard's imagination was so monopolised by the fair, that he could not even think of a man. * "Ow*;? «!»■] For ever look at me : and of the gown it is said afterward, that you may ever wear me. On which Fauiv remarks, that nimium est an de spe- cula ; de tunica moxfrugalius sequitur — ita solent qui verba qvctnint — ut versus oppleant. This, in my opinion, if considered as a critical curiosity, can be scarcely equalled : such an extraordinary, such a stare-making comment, I am satisfied that Vauw could not find in Mr. Barnes. — Our poet wishes to be his fair one's glass, that she may /or ever look at him — " saying for every' replies Pauw, *' is say- ing too much of the glass."— A kind hint to his reader ! lest he should imagine that a beauty stares in her glass, when fast asleep — *' But more fruga- lity appears with regard to the gown." — How so ? il As unguents or water, I'd visit my girl*, Or hang on your neck in the shape of a pearl ; Is not eternity given to both ? I presume the reason is, because, when the lady dressed herself in the morning, she kept on the gown unlil she retired to bed ; whereas she could not conveniently hold the glass before her, while eating, drinking, doing some family-business, or walking al)out the streets; the consequence of which is, that our bard has wasted less of an on the gown, than he has, with absurd prodigality , on the glass. Such are the ob- servations of the most self-sufficient, insolent, abu- sive, dogmatical writer who ever set pen on paper. Ah and sempa' are not mere expletives : they are in- tended to signify often, or long time, by every poet ; and a literal version of them is used for the same purpose, in English, iij French, and, as I believe, in most, if not all, of the modern tongues in Europe. I am obliged to quote Pautu more frequently than any other critic ; for the others are chiefly bu- sied in settling the metre, which I pass over unno- ticed, or in stating the various readings j whereas Pauw adds his opinion of the merits or demerits of almost ever}' ode. * Tvvm] O wonujn. Neither ^?'\l?^^ in Hebrew, nor n yvtou in Greek, sounded, in those Ian- 52 53 Ev'-ii slippers I'd be, could I gain my request ; For sure 'tis a joy by your foot to be press'd*. giiagcs, as O "noman docs to an English ear. Ifo- mer makes a princess addressed by that title j Ana- creon here gives it to his fair one j characters which are always treated with the highest degree of flat- tery, or, at least, respect. * Mo»6» 'TToaiv Trartk* ^j] bj/ your feet to be kicked, or trodden. — On this concluding line M. Paiav ob- serves, — si ad pr(tcedaitl(i et indolein sennonis atten- das, facile lidtbis mccum, hctc Jtietri necessitate etiam (i. e. this line, as well as the word oiu before men- tioned) extoiia esse hounni pauperis iugtnii. — Thus it seems that an entire line of an ode, not confined to any given number of lines, and which has the same measure in every line, is an expletive only to complete the measure — the measure of what? of the whole ode ? That sure is too ridiculous. Is the verse then an expletive to complete itself ? That is, if pos- sible, worse. A reader, for aught I know, may discover the critic's intention : but, for my part, I can find nothing in it, but what, to my judgement, seems evident nonsense. ODE XXVI. ON HIMSELF. When Bacchus has fully replenish'd the veins, No trouble can reach or can tease us : I sing o'er the bowl, am a stranger to pains, And think myself rich as a Crcesus. Then wreathing green ivy my forehead around, So fruitful is liquor of mirth, Contented I stretch at fulllength on the ground, And spurn all the things upon earth*. * Ktiixcn, frzru Y ocTrsitrx.'] When a man, by filthy ebriety, has brought himself into a temporary pal- sy, and temporary idiotism j when his limbs cannot support him ; when the os sublimeMes groveling like a hog upon the ground, and every word, which he can articulate, shows the fool; then he becomes the most excellent being upon earth ! — A very na- tural picture, on which Pauiv does n«t make any 54 65 Let others love war — bring a bottle, my boy*! For have it 1 will, and I must. — Dead-drunk to lie stretch'd, is allow'd to be joy. But none to lie dead in the dust. remark, though delighted by the preternatural image of a drunken dove. * '0irx»f ', iyt» h 7r»»«.] I have followed the version o( Il.Stcph. The ode requires it J and S^rTufi, instead of oTrXifH, an active, instead of a passive verb, and vice versa, is not uncommon in poetical language. *— We have a parallel to this ode in Ode XXXVIII. Let those, whom martial glory charms, Indulge their dang'rous choice of arms. F«r me, O boy, produce the cup, &c. ODE XXVIII. OF HIS MISTRESS, TO THE PAINTER. Master of the rosy art*, Try the pleasing, friendly part : Paint my beauty all divine ; Colour you, and I'll design. . Make her tresses easy lie. Softly touch'd, and black the die. If your tint so far prevailsf , Paint them breathing od'rous gales. * 'Po5f»i ] rosy. H. Steph. who is followed by all the critics, has changed, this word into *Po^$*j?, Rho" dian j and Pauia adds quaintly, that^J'tr,; maleolet, et rosas minime spiral. However, I think that painting may be styled, and with sufficient proprie- ty, the rosy art ; for most, if not all mixed colours, are warmed with a portion of red, as every painter knows. t At hmreu.'] Anacreon is right, says Faber, to add 6G Next, her forehead fmooth and fair* Gently raise beneath her hair. if possible, since a picture is not made for the nose, but eyes : an observation worthy of Pauiv himself ! jc. T. A.] The whole sentence runs, in regard to the hair and forehead, thus — paint out of, or from an ai- tire cheek, under her beaut ful hair, an ivory forehead , The adjective entire, is rendered plena by Baxter and Mr. Banits, who tell us, that quoniam uiraquc genu non potuil integra dtpingi, voluit autent unarn ccrte intes^rum poni, quo et ipsa from compectior fiei'et ; which seems to imply, that, by turning a face, from being full, toward a profile, we lessen one cheek, and make the forehead conspcctior to the view. Such drawing, to me, is inconceivable. Blaterant misai, cries Pauw ; aliud requiritur, quod tribus vei'bis tibi vxponarn. ria^ita IM est gena plenior, quam nulla imicies obsidet. — }sihil naturalius, nihil accom- tnodatius. It seems that a plena could not satisfy our critic 3 he must have a plenior getui, which re- presents to our imagination a cheek swelled out by a violent tooth-ach. There should be a medium between plenior and macilenta, or you cannot have an agreeable contour. Beside, I do not recollect ever to have seen o?vo; made use of to signify plump 07 Form a brow on either side ; Mi>; them not, nor yet divide*; or prominent. There is here another difficulty, which the commentators have passed over without any remark j I mean, with what propriety the fore- head can be said to rise out of the cheek, whether lean or plump. For my part, I cannot answer this question, nor do 1 understand what the poet means by his epithet o^»c. Mr. Barnes render^ Ivoito^cpv- §aio-i p^atTa»5, sub violaceis capillis, and tells us, in his notes, that Tumerlam the Tartar boasted of purple hair. This is really surprising, since he could not but know that w&^ipt/go, is here an epithet only, and that the hair of this portrait is expressly painted black. •* M») jiiisi ^taxoTTTs, jwr^Ti fA»o->e.] Neither cut them nor mingle them. A junction of the eye-brows was considered by some writers as an eminent beauty. It is not generally thought so at present: but there is no accounting for different tastes. Fetronius runs into a wild excess. Supercilia ad malarwu stricturam currentia, et rursus confinio luminumpene pennixta. This in nature would be monstrous j on canvas, a mere caricature. Puuiv acknow- ledges that the brows are arched 3 but of the eye- lids he says that orbis est nullus; he is profoundly D 5 58 69 Let no eye distinctly see Where they part, or where agree. Then her eye-lash must arise Black and circling o'er her eyes. Now her eyes your hand require ; Paint them sparkling as the fire, Awful as the queen of arms*, Lively as the queen of charmst. ignorant of painting ; but it seems strange that he never looked at a human face. * r?iavxo>] blue. The epithet y'KavKvm^ is so appropriated to Alineiva, that we must under- stand by it, in this place, her look in general, and not the particular colour of her eyes : see the fol- loVing Ode. Barnes defines T-Xavxo? to be color subvirldist albo mixtiiXf et quasi clarus, et igneo quO- datn splaulore suffusus: a definition which, I think, represents too exactly the eye of a cat. t *Yygo», i? Ki;6»!^?.] Wet as the ei^e of Venus. The version of Cy^o?, which Hen. Steph. gives, is pcttus ; he takes it from a Latin epigram, which ascribes an oculus pat us to the queen of love. I wish that I ^ • <: Next attempt her cheeks and nose :- Blend the fairness through the rose*; could agree with him j for it is really painful to contradict such an eminent critic 5 but I appre- hend, from Horace, that pcztus regards the situa- tion of an eye in its socket, and by no means the beauty or vivacity of it j for, says he, Strabonan ap- pellat poetum ; here a pectus seems to be a strabo in a lesser degree j since it is absurd to imagine that a parent is so blind, as to call a manifest deformity in a child, by the name of an opposite beauty. The fondest of mothers would attempt only to pal- liate, not to praise 3 for praise would be ridicule on such an occasion j (though our dull commentator, in usum Dclpliiniy tells us that pcztus means a rolling and beauteous eye like that of Venus.) I would chuse to translate Horace-^" in friendship we " should imitate the fond parent, who says, of a squinting child, that it has a cas^"— a patus is ex- actly opposite to a strabo; in the former, the iris is turned outward, or toward the temples; but in the latter, (which is far more disgusting) invariably toward the inner canthus. When a side-look is not fixed, but occasionally mimicked, it may be fitly ascribed to a Venus. In regard to vy^o(i, I under- stand it here in its natural meaning, xuet-, a bright i ()(!) Then her lip's persuasive grace, Softly courting an embrace. eve constantly seems as wetted ; whereas, if that organ appears dryish, it indicates stupidity or dis- order. The surface of water is so bright and vivid, that even the lustre of a diamond is by jewellers called the Kata-. Henee Varnel: He m ide her eyes with di'mond water shine. Perhaps Horace alludes to this vivacity by vuhus lubricus: Solo!?>on, who was a perfect judge of beauty, says, thine ej/cs are ihe Jibh-pools ; here the metaphor cannot bear any dispute : and it must be with reference to the clearness and brightness of water, that Musmis gives the epithet ^7^05 to the virgin-blushes of his delicate IJcro— A idol; vypQt f^;t;6oc otitoc-tccL^iaa wcocwtth. • \\hi Tfc yaXaxTj w. | 5.] liUndiri'^ the fairness j &c. Mr. Barnes says, tit ii/ major in genis rosei coluris mixtura, minor in naso, ct e contra, dfc. That in- deed is requin d, but not by the text, which does not give any ~uch implication. Our poet, in this de.-jTa»— «. T. X.] The alternate hopes and fears of a lover are well expressed by Musctus in the following line. — *Ei>>i ^t \jii$ ToTi $au(ooc, ara»^iti), rpofxo^y atltv;. If Pauiv knew any thing of painting, he would certainly have damned the whole ode, and cried out, as usual, ineptilt poeta^ who begins with the locks before he had touched the face ; but Anacreon considered only the beauties of partial description, and not any general regularity or correctness of design. t Aa?itt9 ntnni] speaking silently. As the lowest I f ii '.-■ 67 Thus form'd complete her face divine- As iv'ry smooth, the neck design. From Dian's train collect the rest, The welUturn'd limb, the hand, the breast. Alas ! imperfect is your art. Which can't at once show ev'ry part. A thousand charms the eye may find. When plac'd her faultless shape behind. Why should I speak of feet?— my task Is ended : take whate'er you ask : Exact from Venus draw the fair. With all her great, celestial air: Or, if my nymph you chance to see, Her form shall Venus plan for thee. whisper, in every language which has labials, re- quires some motion of the lips, I like better what our poet says in a fragment, tli^ picture seem Usterir ins» and expects that sonie person would speak to it. 68 i ■♦ 69 ODE XXX. 0^' CUPID. It chanc'd, when the Muses young Cupid had found, Surprising the god as he lay, They took him, with garlands and fillets they bound, Then gave to fair Beauty the prey*. Tu KaX\u «rafi^ft;xa».] Thej/ delivered him to Beauty. This prosopopoeia makes Venus and Beauty two different Y>eTson6,— Odanum vere eiegans, says Pawiv, in quo nihil est quod reprehendi possit. He might have been more kind, by explaining to us wherein lies the particular elegance of this little fable. If a moral is expected, I suppose it may be^ that, when a woman is truly amiable, she secure'' the attachment of her admirer, " -tenetque grata C'yrnpede vinctutn. \ r Now Venus, his liberty wishing to gain, Proposes to ransom her Love But Cupid determines — so pleasing his chain- Though free, that he never will move. 70 71 ODE XXXII. ON HIS LOVES*. Whoe'er can tell the ocean-waves. Or number all the summer-leaves, May try alone the arduous part, And sum the conquests o'er my heart. • Odarium hand dubie, cries Puuw, tst hominis recentioris, qui Tl^To^oy^a^ anuibat, euvujue prccfcre- bat antiquorum aurece simplicitati . Hence we must conclude that hyperbole was unknown to ancient poets ', which Jtaud dubie is plainly false. This cri- tic often declares war against rhetorical figures. It seems that Virgil and he considered hyperbole in dif- ferent lights : what would he say to the following passage ? Millia quot inagnis nunfjtiom venere Mycenis. Some may think this a natural expression of fear : but our hypercritic would exclaim, Nugcr, nuga; a palpable contradiction ! 1-^ 1 iv i First courtly Athens write, and there A list of five and thirty fair. Achaia next your pen requires, Where crowds on crowds my soul desires ; For Corinth boasts a lovely race. Attractive, form'd with ev'ry grace. Now reckon twice a thousand dames, My Lesbian, Carian, Rhodian flames. What! still more loves? — Yes, more and more ; I pass'd as yet my Syrian store ; I pass'd as yet untold the Nile, And happy Crete's all-plenteous isle*. ♦ There is not a poet, not a historian, whether Greek or Latin, who speaks of Crete, without cele- brating it for riches and numerous fleets ; hence we may conclude that it enjoyed every article of conve- niency and luxury which a trade to Europe, Afric, and Asia, could afford. I am therefore surprised to 72 7S Where love their circling pleasure crowns, And revels through a hundred towns. Still shall I speak, and tell the rest, Whose winning forms my soul possess'd ? For thousands still I feel the pain, From India to the western main *. find Madame Dacier ignorant of what the poet means by his epithet uvxn txvayi;, containing every thing. If a modern writer should say of London, it contains every thing, or every thing nuty be had in it, I believe that his meaning would rarely be mista- ken. ExTo< av TaSti^vv — k. t. X.] frofn Cadiz to In- dia. Thus Juvenal : •• a Gadibus usque Auroram et Gangai. These are proverbial expressions, to signify all the world. Hue, si liceret, says Mr. Barnes, adjicerein, rTuXwf ^1 S *H^axXt»a;r. The sense would then be, / admire all the girls from this to Cadiz, and for a part oftJie way. I wonder that Barries did not mind the absurdity of such an addition. A civ- ^^ ODE XXXIII. TO THE SWALLOtr. You come, fair Swallow, ev'ry year*, To build, when genial suns appear ; * XiX»?Vv.] Snalloiv. The situation of this bird in the winter is variously reported by various au- thors. Since the time of Olaiis Magnus, it has been generally held that swallows plunge into lakes and ponds, are frozen over, and so continue until the return of spring. Dcrham was of this opinion, but, to confirm it, tells such an idle tale as is enough to discredit his whole relation — " An ancient fish- erman," says he, '' accounted an honest man, saw, at a very low ebb, a black list of some- '' thing adhering to the rock. He found it was a '^ great number of swallows hanging by the feet to " one another, as bees do, which were covered com- '' monly by the sea-waters," &c.— Supposing them to escape from crabs, cods, and other voracious fishes, how can we imagine that bodies, incompam- B (r cc 74 >»,:- "^ /z. And, ere chill snows the plains defile, Retire to Memphis or the Nile. bly heavier than swallows, would not by wintry storms, and consequent surges, be dashed to pieces against the rocks, or cast up and scattered along the beach? Neither seals, crocodiles, hippopotami, frogs, beavers, nor any kind of amphibious ani- mals, whether their usual residence is on earth, in fresh or salt water, could for a week, much less for half the year, abide without inhaling a greater quantity of air than water is known to afford. Even whales, though not amphibious, require a due pro- portion. No animal can subsist without a circula- tion of blood J and what motion of the lungs, what systole or diastole of the heart, what vis motrlx of circulation can swallows have, without gills, when the whole thorax is, of necessity, full of water ? Beside, those birds are so numerous, that few ponds, if the bishop is right, would be without a collection of them j and their ascent or descent could not escape the yearly observation of many different persons. For these reasons, I believe the common report of swallows to be nothing more than a fable. Our poet says that they retire to southern climes : and if the Greeks so conjectured, because those birds disappear before the Etesian I But Love a strong perennial nest Forms in my hapless tortur'd breast ; winds are quite ended^ it was a natural supposition. Ey the Romans it was judged that they slept hid- den among the rocks : Cum glaciantur aquoe, scopulis se condit hirundo, Willoughbi/ is on the Grecian side j and his opinion is put beyond all reasonable doubt by M. Adanson the naturalist, who resided five years at Senegal, and is a truly candid, ingenuous writer. He telJf us, that, on his passage thither, four European swallows perched on the tackle of his ship near the coast of Africa, but so fatigued that they could not attempt to escape j that, in Senegal, during winter, a crowd of them lay nightly on the sands 3 that, at Gambia, many came every evening, and slept with him in his hut ; but that, in those countries, they never were known to breed. To this I must add the account of two ship-captains, employed in the trade to Guinea for several years. Both of them assured me that swallows are as common there in December, as with us in the middle of May. These reports, in my opinion, cannot be contradicted with any measure of justice : yet that many of those birds stay with us through the year, I know by ocular demonstration, having once seen a largr 76 77 "Never, oh ! never thence removes, And reais, unceasing, endless Loves. sleeping mass of them taken, in January, from an ancient coal-pit. It may be objected, that, if some go, and some remain, the goers and residents are actuated by a different instinct. True : but as swal- lows continue to hatch until nearly their time of disappearing, may not instinct, as it is called, teach the young ones that they have not strength enough to accompany their parents in a voyage to the tropics or equinoctial line ? and may not the great Being, whose mercy is over all his works, pre- pare them for sleep during winter, since flies, their only nutriment, cannot then be obtained ? Are not young birds always fatter than the old which feed them ? so that, while the parents are enabled, by greater strength, to perform long flights, their issue are better provided for a tedious fast. I can see the benign disposition of our Creator, but nothing irrational, in such conjectures. Perhaps what has been said of swallows, is partly true of quails. These are also birds of passage, but not sleepers, which come in large flights from Africa in the spring, breed here, and return before the cold is disagreeable to them. Yet that many (young ones, I suppose) remain in these countries^ Some half appear : some newly gain Their wings; and some unhatch'd remain. No silence dwells the broods among; But ever chirp the callow young : Loves upon Loves eternal press; The larger educate the less ; m And these in turn, when fully grown, Produce an offspring of their own. Ah ! what affords some kind relief ? For language vainly paints my grief*. and are shot in the winter-season, is a truth well known to ever)' fowler. * Ey.^o»j:ra».] Many of the critics reject this verb, which is however defended by Mr. Barnes. For the proposed corrections, see Pauiv. The verb is adopted by Catullus — Uhi cymhaluni sonat vox, ubl tympana reboant. Mr. Barnes quotes an imitation of this ode by an: Italian nobleman. Count Guidobaldo Bonardli, in. a pastoral drama. \ 78 ODE XXXVII. ON THE SPRING. Behold! the flow'ry spring arrives; And slumb'ring Nature quick revives : The roses gem : the boist'rous main Forgets to rage, and smiles serene : The wanton duck in water plays : The stalking crane more boldly strays*; And Phcebus lends a genial ray. To cheer the bright'ning face of day. See! heav'n is cloudless, mild, and clear! See! rural toils refresh'd appear +! • '0^iv!».] 77it' crane travels— A picturesque ex- pression, and not unlike the spatiatur of Virgil. Et sola in sicca secum spatiatur arena. t B^TVf ifya.] The luorks of men. These are pro- perly towns, towers, &c. says Baxter: but he says i 79 The olive buds ; the teeming Earth Calls forth her various plants to birth ; And now the vine, in early pride*, Diffuses shoots on ev'ry side. it without any kind of authority. How could he suppose that architecture is improved by the re- turn of spring ? * Na/xa — X. t. A.] What is here said of the vine, appears to be much corrupted j vaifAx and xagTro? should be in a description of autumn, not of spring. Those who are fond of conjectural emen- dation, may find guessing enough among the critics. 80 81 ODE XXXIX. ON HIMSELF, m Replenish'd with liquor, well gladded my heart, — Such force has the juice of the vine, — Inspir'd and inflara'd with the musical art, I smg to the praise of the Nine, Replenish'd with liquor, the chaser of pain. I feel neither sorrow nor care, But give the hoarse tempest, which ruffles the main, To waft and disperse them in air. 3- Replenish'd with liquor, my spirits restored. Then Bacchus, a lover of play. ^ / A - - A ■ , ■: "J- ■«■ -'. While new-blowing roses their fragrance af- ford, Commands to be frolic and gay. 4- Replenish'd with liquor, I weave me a tire. In chaplets o'erjoy'd to be dress'd; And, crowningmy temples, I praiseand admire Tranquillity, freedom, and rest. 5- Replenish'd with liquor, I take the perfume, — For beauty my bosom alarms — Anoint me well over, a courage assume, And catch the dear nymph in my arms. 6. Replenish'd with liquor, high rais'd with aglass, My heart is so free and dilated. From sages and grave to the cheerful I pass, And love with the young to be rated. £ 5 82 83 Good liquor alone is the gain wc can have, The only fix'd pleasure we boast : The rest are all flitting, submit to the grave, Forsaken, forgotten, and lost. / I ODE XL. ON CUPID. As heedless Cupid chanc'd to rove « Where fragrant roses deck'd the grove, A bee, which lay the flow'rs among, Unmark'd, his finger deeply stung. Quick to his lips the wound apply *d. He suck'd, hesooth'd, and loudly cry'd. To Venus now, in trembling haste, He ran, he flew, by pain oppress^d^ And ** Mother, oh! assist your son f " Assist," he cries: " Fm lost ! undone*! * OxuT^a — x'Tro^imoKu.'] Cvpid, says Pauxv, was not such a fool, utut pai-vus et tenellus, prcesertim ubija?n arcu valebatj as to think himself in danger of death. Nonne illud oXwXa, nonne illud ccrro^mcKu nimlum est in ore pueri immortalis ? — A truly ridiculous note indeed ! It is hardly worth observing that verbs. 84 85 '* Pierc'd by a dragon — here you see — •* Swains call the monstrous snake a bee." " Think then," the beauteous queen replies, ** If wounds can pain of such a size, *' What hapless man is doom'd to know, ** At whom you draw your deadly bow." which in strictness mean c'j/in:^, expiring, &c. are used, in most languages, to signify nothing more than great uneasiness of body or mind. I 1 ODE XLIII. 0^f THE GRASS-HOPFER. Dew-fed Tettix, happy thou*, Perching on a leafy bough ! * Terlil.] The tettix, or grass-hoppa\ M. Adan- son the naturalist, wh^n jailing up the Niger, was delighted by the fine meadows, enlivened by grass- hoppers of a beautiful green colour, variegated with a lively red. In these parts of Europe, they are of a dusky gi-eenish colour, but, as in Afric, are con- stantly on the ground : yet the Greek writers uni- versally place them on the trees 3 a remarkable difference made by ditFerent cUmes. The Grecians, as appears from j£lian, were used in his time to eat those insects j which may be thought strange by a reader who had no other ac- count of them than what he collected from the Grecian poets. But an authentic traveler informs us that " sometimes grass-hoppers do fall so thick " in Constantinople, in the summer-time, and that *' especially in June and July, that a man cannot *' pass in the streets of Constantinople or Galata, 86 87 €t Happy, while you sit and sing, Thron'd sublimely as a king* ! Meadows, blossoms, all you see, Ev'ry sweet belongs to thee. Fav'rite songster of the swain. Harmless to his tender grainf ; but he shall every where tread upon them ; also they fly so thick upon the tops of houses, that " they do cover the tiles. Besides, they are much *' greater than ours," &c. This being the case, we may readily believe that such persons might eat the grass-hopper, as had a stomach and taste to eat the locust. The song of it is merely hyperbolical j it has a monotonous and hoarse chirp only ; where- fore Honnev justly compares the chat of old men on a tower to the voice of a grass-hopper. * BacTj^it;? e»«<] as a king. Since the creature does no injury, this plainly regards its situation, not its voice ; thus we say, such a house commands all the country round about it. + A»o fAri^tvoq T» CxawTftfjf.] Pauiv has much better explained this passage than Mr. Barnes; verba tra^ jecta, says he : or do est, aitt^'Kx'mvt t» ^r,^iitoj, nuUius quid ladens. To f/j^^tfo^ respicit ysu^ut prcecedens. Tales trajectiones sunt satis frequentes ; quanquam •>- ft-- All thy cheering notes adore, Prophet of autumnal store. Happy too in Phoebus' choice! Phoebus gave thy little voice. Free from age's slow decline, Pleasing thou to all the Nine. Wise, harmonious, gentle, good, Earth-born, void of flesh and blood*. Whom no passions triumph o'er — Sure the gods are scarcely moref! Bamesius certe ita vertit; " de nihilo quicquam Icedens." — ^Then he proceeds as usual — quid mirian ? ab ipsa infant ia sua nugari didicerat bonus. * Infiumana; cicadct. Mart. — Plin^ observes that insects have neither ncrvos, nee ossa, nee spinas, nee cartilaginem, nee pinguia, nee carnes, nee cms- tarn quidan fragilem, — nee qu(£ jure dicatur cutis ; sed medice cujusdum, inter hac omnia, naturce corpus. t Sp^i^b* El GfoKOfAow? ] You are almost like the gods. This certainly has the most epigram matical turn of all the odes j and from the premises, according to heathen mythology, the poet's conclusion is justly drawn. '■flV' 88 ODE XLIV. ON HIS DREAM. Asleep and easy once rcclin'd, Methought I rose, had wings behind. And quick andlightly flew ; When Cupid, still more wondVous fleet, Though lead oppress'd his little feet, Pursu'd, and caught me too. What means the vision ? — surely this : I ramble now from bliss to bliss, From nymph to nymph around : But one, attractive o'er the rest. Of all my captive soul possess'd. Will hold it strongly bound*. * 'Em ruh Ttfj^.^.tfi.] I must here give due praise to M. Pauw. xiis alteratioa of this line may, I think, be justly called a restoration : it is rational. 89 easy, clear : instead of svt tw%, he reads tvt tw, ^. How could the poet say, tbat he might escape fronj others, but would be contined to this one ? which of the 9ro^V t, the many, before mentioned ? This, doubt- less, stood in need of c orrection ; and the slight al- teration which raiav has made, gives a fit answer to the question proposed, and a desirable perspicuity to all the ode. I wish that he had omitted his rough conclusion, " the prattling of other commen- '' tators does nothing but make him sick." — 1 should have observed, that tw is here put for t»»*, which i» not without many examples. sa- 90 91 ODE XLV. ON THE ARROWS OF CUPID, When Vulcan, obliging hisgoddess of charms, At Lemnos had finished for Cupid some arms, The queen in pure honey anointed them all : But Cupid maliciously mix'd it with gall*. * MiAj — x^^^* i^cryw.] This composition makes the >At/xi;irn«5o», the bitter-sweets of love ; an epithet familiar to every poet. We have an explanation of this ode from our learned BaUley, and another from M. Pauw. Jaculum, says Bentley, ex vivo igne et atlierio fulgure constans, in Martis corpus se spotite insinU' avity ct re cogmtum liUuit. Inde est illud a»oc(mt(x^aiq, getnitum et suspirium ducens, ob vulnus scilicet, et ago* auTo, talk quceso ; quippe in intivia corporis pene- tiaverat. E^t vero avro, tecum serva, ait Cupido ir- ridenSf qui solus potuit extra/iere, sed noluit. Mira, mira, cries Pauvo, sed nimis Heicule viira; quare ea capturn meurn longe super ant, et aiiud re- quiro. Id autan ubi in aliorum cotfunentis r»on of- Now Mars, who exults in the weight of his lance, From battle returning, and passing by chance, fendo, paucis, quod res est, tibi exponam, lector. Cum Mars teluni Cupidinis in manum surnsit, vis teli oc* culta stutim per poros se in manus intima insinuavit, eamque ottini robore ita privavit, ut deus telum nianu neque sustinere, ncque emiitere potuit; quia niovendi facultas d est, etpro manumortua potiushaberi debet, quampro man'i. viva. Sic omnia hie perspicua sunt et plana. Mars nunc tenere debebat invitus, cum cmteroquin id vel Cupidini reddere, vel imnu emii- tere , pot uisset facile, Sfc. I cannot agree with Bentley j for he does not agree with mythology. It was never fabled that Cupid's arrows wounded spontaneously, and with- out any force impressed: the bow was as necessary to that little deity, as to an earthly archer. Beside, our critic makes the weapon not only pierce into the hand, but run up the arm, then tuniing at the elbow, pass through the shoulder, where changing its direction, it proceeds downward, in i)Uima cor- poris, by which we may suppose that he means the heart. Thus, it is true fulgur, which never moves in a right line, but always in different angles. Pauw tells us that he has made everything plain 92 Observ'd tht young urchin accoutred, and laugh *d, Deriding the boy, and the size of his shaft. " Though little," says Cupid, " it seems to the eye, ** You'll find it is heavy : — here, take it and try." Mars handled^ the weapon, nor thought of a cheat : and clear : but, in my judgement, he has made no- thing but an absurd heap of confusion. — Why are the virulent effluvia of Cupid's arrow confined to the hand of Mars? why not taken up by the ves- sels, and carried to the heart by a natural course of circulation ? If the hand was senseless, what made the god issue his vehement groans ? Why did not the weapon fall by its own weight, unless the hand, instead of being dead, griped it by the force of a strong convulsion ? And what pleasure can we sup- pose the tender queen of love received on foresee- ing that poor Mars would become an invalid, and lose the use of a limb ? On the whole, I think we may answer to Vawx as he does to Benilcy, mira, miiUj scd nimis Hercuie mira L 93 But Venus was pleas'd when he swallow'd the bait. ** O JLove!" cries the warrior, distracted with pain, •' 'Tis wonderful heavy ! O! take it again*." — *' Not so," replies Cupid: *' good Mars, you must have it : •* Pray call it your own ; for I heartily gave it." * B*^!/.] This Ode, in my opinion, is no more than a trick of Cupid, which he plays by using a word of two different senses, Ba^? is literally heavy, figuratively painful: and the mischief-loving ur- chin, who never cpeaks what he thinks (Ov ya^ »o"o» tom y.on ^^iyyrrati, says Moschus) tells Mars, that, however small in appearance his shaft may be, it is in reality Qa^. The plain soldier takes it without any suspicion, to poise and try the iieight of it in his hand. Vtmus smiles, well knowing that Mars would be quickly in her toils; and he, from the contact of his hand with the poisonous weapon, be- ing immediately filled with the pains of love, and now, though too late, understanding the treache- rous scheme of Cupid, exclaims, " Oh! I confess 94 95 '* that it is Cagt/, extremely painful: here, here, " take it again !" — " By no means," says Cupid, de- riding A/// r* in his tumj " I make you a present of *' it, and request that you will keep it." — I leave the critics to their anatomical and physical disquisitions. ODE XVLI. ON AVARICIOUS LOVE. Tis hard to pine by Love oppressed, And hard to want the flattering guest; But hardest is the lot, to burn And sigh and grieve without return. No more has virtue pow'r to move. Nor sense can charm the fair to love: Tis gold alone, whose conqu'ring aid Attacks the heart, and wins the maid* 1 O ! may the sordid wretch be curs'd. Who priz'd that dang'rous metal first ! Through it, fraternal love retires, And children mourn their careless sires. * Aeyvgo, ^M»8a*r.] If lions were painters, says the fable, the pictures of men, conquering lions, would be extremely rare. 96 Through it, what barb'rous feuds arise! What streams of blood! what endless sighs! And lovers too, yet more severe. Are spurn'dby all the venal fair*. * Ox>t;fx£a0« oI^jXa»Ti?.] Why lovers In general? The rich may be lovers ; and such, according to our poet, arc in no danger of any repulse. I suppose we must understand this of poetical lovers 3 for the Muses and Plutiis have seldom been cordial friends. 97 ODE LI. ON A DISCUS REPRESENTING VENUS. Has then some hand with art divine Perform'd the beauteous, bold design, O'er a small disk contrived to grave* The wide-spread ocean's ev'ry wave ? Though I am far from judging this little piece to be correct, yet it contains some agreeable touches. We have a pretty French print, entitled Venus sur les Eauxy which seems as if the engraver had taken his drawing entirely from this ode. However, Pauiv calls \t futile tt ineptum; and thoni proceeds, as usual, to correct it. Sometimes the modest cri- tic informs us, that, if he had been at the elbow of the poet, he would have instructed him how to write. For my part, though it is clear enough that many of these odes have been injured by tran- scribers, yet, when I can elicit any sense from them, I am satisfied, and leave to our critics their vague conjectures. * Aicrxo;.] The discus was used formerly, as we use 98 Has then some genius, heav'nly taught, The queen of charms completely wrought ? From whose amours the bless'd abodes Receiv'd their new-born race of gods*. Behold, he shews the fair undress'd Above ; for waves inclose the rest. See how she moves ! her hands divide With graceful ease the swelling tide ; Close to her stroke apply'd, declined. She lows and leaves the wave behind. Now through a surge her breast above The geatle goddess seems to move. As shines the lily's vivid hue, When clos'd in vi'lets' dusky blue, a sledge or a bar : it was cast for a trial of strength, and nui of skill. According to i.uatuthius , they made it of iron or stone j when of iron, it went by the name of XoXo?. * Here l^enus signifies the natural passion. See Lucretius and others. 99 So, in the smooth, encircling brine, Her charms celestial brightly shine*. Mark, where Desire and Love, astride On sportive dolphins, wanton ride ! How soft their looks ! how mild to view ! How mild, yet how deceitful too ! Round the fair queen, the gathering fry Leap up, and joyous please her eye: Around they leap, and shoot, and play, Where Venus lightly skims the sea. * Aia(paneTa».] Shines through. In colours, a fi- gure can be represented as under water : but to suppose that it can be so done in metal, is rather too violent a supposition. 100 101 ODE LIII. ON THE ROSE, The blooming rose, the flowVy prime* Of vernal sweets, inspires a rhyme. Do you, my friend, the Muse obey+. In concert join, and aid the lay; For this the gods celestial breathe; This scent delights the world beneath; * MiT* n^?, ii%>^fro^ai ^^ot Sigiwi.] / celebrate the suninier-rose, togethtr with the spring. If Sc^Mrov was never used, and I cannot say that it was, to signify e calyce protrusus, or blown, as most flowers are in summer, I must leave the- passage to critics, who repair and remake, according to their ditferent fan- cies. t rvr, ircu^* — k. t. A.] My friend assist, &c. Da- cier supposes this ode to be sung by the poet and his friend, alternately : but of such a practice he does not give any example. .i.-*aKt"t Of all the Graces this the joy, And am'rous Venus loves the toy. Hence bards this subject fondly chuse, A grateful theme to ev'ry Muse Sweet flow'r to him who lonely strays Through devious woods and thorny ways! Each mirthful banquet, ev'ry board, And Bacchus' feasts, the rose afford. What can be done without the rose P Her rosy hands Aurora shows ; The nymphs appear with rosy arms ; And Venus blooms in rosy charms. This healing plant hath pow'r to savej Or lends its aid beyond the grave*, Eludes ev'n time's destructive rage, And holds its grateful scent in aget. * Niif^oi?.] The dead. Venus, with rose-oint- ment, preserved the body of Hector. t Tti^u^.] Did age. The leaves, pulled off and dried, retain an agreeable odour. W2 Sing now the mild, propitious hour, Which gave the world this beauteous flow'r. From ocean, kill'd to calm repose. When love's wide-conqu'ring queen arose. When heav'n and all its pow'rs, afraid, Saw lab'ring Jove produce a maid, 'Twas then the rose, a glorious birth, Sprang from its wond'ring parent, earth ! Now met the gods, and merg'd the leaves Deep in their od'rous nectar-waves ; Gave the whole flow'r a splendid glow. And on a thorn-bush made it grow *. * Aita»e^?.] J tlMm. Here, I confess, we have an ^ri2uus nats, after such a flourishing panegyric! How much more poetically just is our excellent Milton, who says, that in Paradise, before Adamn transgression, were FIq^Ws of all hue, and^ without thorn, the rose. lOJ ODE LIV. ON HIMSELF*. Join 'd to a young and vigVous choir, I feel a youthful, vig'rous fire; I feel warm blood through ev'ry vein, And, wing'd by transport, dance again. Attend, and bring the fillets, maidf ! Weave rosy chaplets; crown my head: * In this ode we have, veluti descripta tabella, vita senis — an accurate picture of the poet. f KvQnQot.'] Whatever Pauiv may assert to the contrary, I take Cubeba to be the name of a servant, and not of a partner in the dance. Steph. would have a different word, which Fauiv calls inept issiifui lectioy nuga; mercc. As to Madame Dacier, who proposes to read crvrijCa, he thinks that she would do well, if she confined herself to the distaff: — a most uncourtly critic, on a courtly poet! His words are, niistre coccutivity et ea scripsit, quoi fusum potius red" okntj quam doctas libroruin chartas. ril throw this cumb'rous age away. And, 'midst the young, be young and gay. O ! let some kind and gen'rous friend With Bacchus* sparkling juice attend; To see what strength inspires a sage, Who knows to dance in spite of age, Who knows to quaff with cheerful ease, And madly toy, yet still to please*. * M«w)>ai.] The desipere in loco of Horace, and p^a^icyTw^ |bux>D»ai, are perfectly synonymous phrases. 105 ODE LV. ON LOVERS. The horse, we observe, has a character on it; And Parthians are guess'd by the shape of their bonnet: So they, in whom Cupid's warm passionsabide, Are clearly distinct from all creatures beside; For each has a tenderness easily known*, A softness peculiar to lovers alone. * Ttf? t^mran;, iJlwK fn^rruix iy9v?.] I shall here dis- miss Pa?iWj having first transcribed his following observation. Imptissima ittoicc, et inept Issima com- paratio. An ^jwtov illud xH^-y^"- ^^ uniantiuin -i^v^r, ita conspici poterat, ut wv^o? x°^^y\*-* 2» equorum coxis, et tiara in Parthorum capitlbus ? An ex eo amcin- tes dignosci poterant, eodan niodo, quo ex tiara Par- thiy ex signo inu&to equi ? Nihil stultiirs, nihil ah ipsa natura alienius. Aitamen bonus id diserte ajiimat hie; simul ac videhai a?tuintes, notam illam tmueni in F 5 106 anima eonun videre poterat, et ipsum amorcni ex ea il' lico dignoscere. Ineptice, et ineptice Tnercc, qucc sto- machum mihi cient. That is, in few wordsj *' the '' ode is modern j for the author is an absurd mira- " cle-monger, who pretends to see into the heart of man." Instead of a reply, which such nonsense does not merit, I shall only give two quotations. X^tnJ/aJ, Et^(d(, Attstyra T ahT^a. t»; ^viutT af, wXjjv ^yow — k. t. ?^. All things, my friend, can lurk within. But two; and those are clearly seen: No art or love or wine belies j They shine conspicuous through the eyes. Fragm. Antiph. Quamvis tegatur, proditur vultu furor: £rumpit oculis ignis ■ Senec. Hi»pol. 107 ODE LX- TO DIANA. Beauteous progeny of Jove,. Dian, goddess of the grove. Huntress, whose unerring darts. Pierce the roes and trembling harts. Come, oh! come, propitious maid! Lethe claims thy patron-aid. View the town with friendly eyes*; Mark their heart-emitted sighs ; Let your people, just, humane t. Favour hope, nor hope in vain* * noX»».] TJtt city. Magnesia, on the river Lethe, According to CalliniachuSy Diana obtained from Ju- piter thirty towns, of which she was to be the only (I suppose he means principal) deity. — TgK ^«xa to^ VToXlzQfiOC X, T. A. t Oy yac^ «»!pEgsj.] Not inhuman. We have a 108 109 story (by Plutarch, if I do not forget) of a poet who celebrated the goddess for cruelty and delight in blood } to which some auditor replied, *' may she *' reward you with a daughter exactly of a similar " temper." Our bard speaks a different language ; his address implies that Diana was pleased with mildness and humanity. Beside, he is so far from recommending the Magnesians on account of their expensive sacrifices, (a practice of some less judi- cious writers) — he is so far from boasting even of their philanthropy and benevolence, — that he gives them no more than a mere negative comniendation, tfx arrifjLt^^ — a modesty very proper on such an oc- casion. \ ODE LXV. ON GOLD THE DESERTER. When gold, as swift as stormy wind, Flies off, and leaves me far behind, I let the traitor freely go : For who would chuse to hunt a foe? Now quite remov'd the dang'rous ore, Perplex 'd with doubts and fears no more, I bid the gath'ring blasts obey, And waft my ev'ry care away*; Then take the long-neglected lyre, And sing and play to soft desire. I have numbered this Ode according to the edi- tion of Barnes, '* Thus Horace: • • Tristitiam et metus Tradam protervis in mare Creticum Portare vends ■ — . . . \ no But, when my soul, grown firmly bold^ Unmov'd can view the charms of gold, He quick returns in friendly guise, With tipsy mirth, devoid of sighs, Returns intent to spoil my vein*, And make me shun the lyre again. How long, oh gold! wilt thou essay To lead my vig'rous mind astray? Above thy charms, I love the lyre, And notes attun'd to soft desire. * 'n? iAs^(A.V9 >v^^ ytvQifju.l It is an old complaint that wealth is injurious to a poet. For^ as Theocri- tus observes, 'Tis poverty awakes the various arts. To shew gold at a distance, is Vatihus addere cat-- car: for, — Si dolosi spes refuherit nimimi, Corvos poetaSy &c. — — ■ , Wherefore, says Pamel, If their riches spoil their vein. Ye Muses, make them poor again. V !1 111 Perfidious ore! by your deceits The lyre is mute ! and Love retreats. 'Tis you prevent our mutual bliss; 'Tis you disturb the sacred kiss*! And then, delusive, treach'rous, fly To shine in some barbarian eye ; But first from me, oh base design! Try ev'ry lure to fright the Nine. Know, that, 'till death the bliss refuses, I'll touch the lyre, and court the Muses. Then go, and cheat, where'er you go, The starving wretch with empty show. * Mr. Barnes has collected twenty small produc- tions which he terms Epii^rammata Anacreontis ; by which he means nothing else than inscriptions j for some of them are epitaphs, as Here lies Timo critus .—^Oh partial grave ! You spare the coward, and destroy the brave ! Others are dedications, as To Phabus sacred hangs this faithful shield, Defence of P^/^^w through the dang 'rous field. Two may be called epigrams, according to the most usual acceptation of the word. On a brazen Heifer by Myron, Away, ye herdsmen ! feed your herds apart, Unmix'd vf'ith. Myron's wond'rous work of art; Lest you mistake — mistake you easy may — And drive the statue with the rest away. On the same. This heifer, sure, is chang'd by time alone To brass; and Myron boasts the work his own. 120 121 We have another little poem in the collection, which breathes the disposition and temper of our elegant poet : but I know not how to give it a suit- able title; for it is not a dedication, nor an epitaph, nor an epigram in any sense of the term j nor can I say that it is a fragment 3 and it is too short for an ode. However, as the bard might have sung and played it in some friendly and agreeable com- pany, perhaps we had best call it by the modem name, a catch I love not him, who o'er his gen'rous wine With horrid wars our wounded ear assails, Buthim,who,charm'd with r;?««jandthe Nine, Immixes sprightly jests and am'rous tales. I shall conclude with a few observations on the authenticity of these odes. 1 . Horace says that ■ — - dicunt arsisse Bnthj/Uo Anacrconta Teinniy Sui persape cava testuduie Jievit amoran, ifc. And yet, instead of persape, we have not, on that subject, one plaintive ode in the whole collection. ■ti 2. It can hardly be supposed that any po^t. ex- cept a very mean one, would disgust his reader with a long string, a oraiabe rcpttita, of songs on drink- ing, in which there is not the smallest attempt at any kind of variety. They all seem as if intended for nothing else than so many paraphra'^es on the epitaph of Sardanapalus, as I observed before. 3. The poetical taste is widely different in the different compositions. E. g. The natural painter of drunken man (Ode XXVI.) could not be guilty of that monstrous image, a drunken, dancing bird (Ode IX.) Who can read Ode III, in which Cupid gains admittance to, and v/ounds the author by a pret- ly device, and yet ascribe ii to the same hand which wrote Ode LIX ? fof the latter, if not quite ridi- culous, is, at best, but a mean conceit : here the poetaster finds Cupid in some roses, seises him by the pinions, sinks him in a glass of wine, and drinks him down, but is tormented by the feathers of the little archer, which tickle him so constantly, that he cannot get any relief. — ^To produce but one ex- ample more, out of a large number which might be collected, the conclusion of a panegyric on the grass-hopper is just, terse, and epigram matical, whereas the conclusion of that on a rose entirely spoils the whole. 4. If to these reasons we add that very strong G i 122 one, quoted from Suidus by all the critics, viz. that Anacreon uroic even/ thing in the Ionic dialect, (which can by no means agree with the present collection), it seems highly probable that time has left us but a small portion of his genuine odes, and that most of those, now ascribed to our cheerful bard, should be called Anacreontics only, or imita- tions of that elegant poet. 1 TRANSLATIONS, IMITATIONS, SfC. SfC. } 11 TRANSLATIONS, 8(C, FROM BION. IDYLLIUM II. A SPORTING boy, in hopes to find And catch in traps the feath'ry kind^ Went to a thick and devious grove. Where little birds were us'd to rove. There, as he watch'd, he chancM to set Young Cupid perching on a tree: The boy observ'd, with joyful eyes. How large the bird, how rich the prize. 1C6 Now, all his traps securely bound*. He mark*d the archer flutt'ring round. At length, grown tir'd, and vex'd at heart, That vain and useless prov'd his art. He went and brought a friendly sage, From whom he learn'd to make a cage, Show'd him the wondrous bird, and hovr It perch'd, quite careless, on a bough. The sire look'd at it, gently smil'd. And thus, in kindness, warn'd the child : ** Forbear, my child ! retire in haste. Nor wish to catch that dang'rous beast. Live free and easy while you can ; For, when you gain the size of man, * Tvq i(.0L>.xfA0^«woK7»» »cra, k. X.] Niglu and day arc equal. Equinox, succeeding the gloomy and short days of winter, is doubtless extremely grateful ; but, in our latitude, to survey the works of Nature, as they are vulgarly called, on a fair, long summer's morning, as well as at and after sunset in the even- ing, is perfectly delightful to a considerate mind. The questions and answers contained in this idyl- lium have such a natural simplicity, as, in my judge- ment, is well suited to pastoral writing. 131 FROM MOSCHUS. IDYLLIUM I. LOVE, THE DESERTER. Ye swains, cry'd Venus, if ye chance to see A rambling Cupid, he belongs to me. Who finds him, merits an ambrosial kiss ; Who back conducts — a more substantial bliss*. These marks will show him : fi'ry are his eyes; And honey 'd speech a treach'rous heart belies. Provok'd, he grows implacable ; the boy Has something cruel in his ev'ry joy. His little hands immensely far can throw. And pierce the monarch of the realms below. Huic aliiid mercedis erit • Vi rg- 132 133 His skin is naked, with a careless air ; But deep his schemes, and hid with anxious care. From sea to sea he flies, from land to land, And in the bosom takes his fav'rite stand. Though small the arrows,small thebow of Love, He oft severely wounds the pow'rs above. His tears are dang'rous; dang'rous are his smiles. Bind fast the cheat : his ev'ry act beguiles. The golden quiver fi'ry shafts contains, And I have felt them rankling in my veins r All, all are cruel! Swains, be cautious! shun His little torch ! its flame outburns the sun. Where'er the villain lurks, if haply found. To me produce him, but securely bound. His lips, though ofFer'd you in friendly guise, Reject ! in each a secret poison lies. Should he say, *' take my arms," his base desire Escape i for all are tipp'd with deadly fire. yi (M t MOSCHUS. IDYLLIUM VI. A BABBLING Echo Pan admir'd; and she, A skipping Faun ; and beauteous Lyda he. As Pan his Echo, so the nymph desir'd Her Faun, who Lyda's stubborn heart requir'd. Thus each revenge in turn to each supply'd, Lov'd those who hated, and who loy'd deny'd. Ye gentle fair, not yet inclined to know What secret joy from ties connubial flow, Regard your swains alone who fondly burn ; Their grateful hearts will love for love return* THE NUPTIAL POEM OF CATULLUS. YOUTHS. Mark, youths, where Hesper shows his beau- teous lightj And, long expected, gilds the dusky night ! Quit, then, your flowing bowls, nor idly stay ; The ready bride demands a nuptial lay. Hymtn ! Hymen ! lend your patron ear ! Hymen ! propitious to our feast appear I MAIDS. See, maids, the choir of youths! Their verse oppose. / a ^> 155 Now spacious heav'n with fires CEtaean glows : See, how they spring impatient! Maids, arise. And, from their joint exertions, bear the prize. Hymen ! Hymen ! &c. YOUTHS. No easy palm awaits, O friends, the verse, When maids their parts with studious care re- hearse ; Nor vain their study seems ; each well-turn'd line. Exactly polish'd, will be half divine. Care gives a conquest : we shall lose the bays. Whose ears and fancies rove through difF'rent ways.. Then, more attentive, let us bravely vie : The maids begin, and we in turn reply. Hymen ! Hymen ! &c. .^] }36 137 MAIDS. Is there, Hke Hesperus, a star severe,. Which from her home secludes a trembling fair — \yhich gives to ardent youth such heav'nly charms, Rent from a mother's soft encircling arms? What act more cruel can a town deform, Which foes have enter "^d by a furious storm ?, Hymen ! Hymen ! &c, YOUTHS. Is there, like Hesperus, a star benign, Which in firm compact joins, with rites di- vine? Our friends may previous meet, our sires agree ; But all the dear conclusion leave to thee ; '^ What can or youth receive, or heav'nly powV Bestow, superior to the joytul hour ? Hymen! Hymen! &c. MAIDS. '- S Hesper,0 maids, now Steals our gentle friend — Thy dread approach the sleepless watch attend; All thieves in darkness lurk, with treacherous aim. Whom you detect,, when calTd a diff'rent name*. Hymen! Hymen! &c. YOUTHS. Yes, fav'rite star ! all love your nightly fire : But maids calumniate what their souls desire. Hymen! Hymen! &c. * In the morning called Phosphorus, or Lucifer, 138 MAIDS. As in a garden springs a lovely flowV, Which ploughs nor bruise, nor hungry flocks devour ; Through its bright leaves while Zephyrs gently play. And Sol confirms them with his genial ray ; Admir'd by all, it blooms supremely fair. Of youths the passion, and of maids the care. But should some hand, with more than im- pious force, The stalk nutritious from the flow'r divorce. It droops ; it fades ; its ev'ry charm retires : No nymph approves it, and no swain desires. So fares the beauty ; while a sprightly maid, By nymphs she 's honour'd, and by swains obey'd ; 139 But if in wedlock snar*d through specious lore. The maids reject her, and no youths adore; Hymen! Hymen! &c. YOUTHS. As, in some field, neglected grows the vine^ Nor boasts a purple flood of gen'rous wine ; Unprun'd, confus'd, and grov'ling on the plain It lies, a cumbrous nuisance to the swain ; But, when its boughs on vigorous elm rely. The plant, now fruitful, pleases ev'ry eye. So the weak virgin, who untouched appears, May dully move from youth to wrinkling years; But if, in time, she yields to nuptial rites. Her sire and bridegroom feel unknown delights* Youthen, fair nymph, consent! Theam'rous boy From pow'r parental hopes the secret joy.^ ■■f~J 140 Nor think a virgin sole commands her heart ; The father claims, the mother claims, a part : Those for the youth their sev'ral shares design; Then add to theirs, O beauteous maiden, thine. Hymen! Hymen! lend your patron earl Hymen! propitious to our feast appear! - i ,-'? "iM A FAMILIAR IMITATION OF HORACE. Lib. i, Epist. 4. Since you, my friend, without a courtly sneer, Can sit on oak, and feast on country cheer, To supper come, and come in easy guise. Ere Phoebus sets, or noxious damps arise. Light is my claret ; *** is strictly true ; Th* importer he, the vintage fifty-two. For meat, the brook can eels and trouts supply, My barn a chicken, and my doves a pie. Add that Pomona, o'er vicarial land, Her fruits diffuses with a bounteous hand. If more than such your better tithes afford, Dress when you please; and I '11 attend the board; If not, your fav'rite Chillingworth resign. 142 For social converse, harmless mirth, and wine. Since this fair eveprecedesth'auspiciousmorn, On which, thank heav'n, our George the good was born. We'll sit, uncensur'd, chat the hours away, Till light appears, then grateful toast the day. Plagu'd with no doubts, unanxious for an heir, Free from lean av'rice, and the frown severe, Be mine to quaff, or stretch in careless ease ; And fools may call me thoughtless, if they please. What cannot wine perform ? Its genial fire To am'rous youth restores the tott'ring sire ; It arms the coward hand, revives the brave, Strikes off his fetters from the lab 'ring slave ; Nay, bids ev'n B***y fearless ope the door. And give (strange pow*r!) one farthing to the poor ! • 143 Though little cost adorns my friendly treat, At least the furniture is plainly neat : Each knife, well whetted, cuts exactly keen; In each bright dish your face is clearly seen ; The cloth is fair as Kitty's wondrous breast : And all may satisfy an easy guest. Nor dread, my friend, to see a motley train Of clam'rous blockheads, or of pertly vain: I hate disputes, and hold this gen'ral rule, 'Tis fretful labour to oppose a fool. No barrister, who, joy'd himself to hear. Refuses quarter to the wounded ear ; Who — in the hall, unworthy of a part — To spoil good liquor, keeps his terms of art : No rev'rend doctor, with important face. Who palms stupidity for heav'nly grace ; O'er whose broad head fat waves unwieldy flow, Impartial emblems of the brains below ; '■tv iij-.^s' \ 144 Who in polemics shows Herculean pow'r, When not oppos'd, and dulls the festive hour : None such expect: — I'll bid a sprightly few. Or leave the choice of company to you. These are my terms: if grateful these, attend, And quit a wife, one night, to please a friend. 145 'V ■ .JrV f :M-i FROM THE SAME AUTHOR. Lib. i, Epist. 10. Health to my friend, if, midst of odious smells t And putrid air, the goddess safely dwells. You love a city, I a country scene, The devious wood, the grot, the flowVy plain. In this your taste seems oddly formed to me ; In all things else our twin-like souls agree. At town I sicken, pine, am scarce alive, But, fann'd by od'rous gales, again revive. I hate your feasts, and, like some priest, lament, Who spurns at turbot near the close of lent. Suppose that Nature's uncrroneous voice Led you unbiass'd in your ev'ry choice, H 146 ( 147 Where would you build? what site would justly please, With freedom, health, content, and virtuous ease ? Such joys (nor partial think them meanly small) The fields must give, if man receives at all. No dog-day scorches here : the sultry hour Is pass'd unheeded in a friendly bow'r: Nor frost disturbs us, of our health secure ; For, if intense, *tis here intensely pure. Think you, the ponded water, tasteless, dead. Or creeping slow through half-chok'd pipes of lead, As ours, is pleasant, or as brightly shines, Which gives you music, as itself refines? Or glow the carpet-dies as richly gay As Nature's vivid blooms in flow'ry May ? Plead as you will for grandeur, pomp, and art, X I ( A taste for Nature lurks in ev'ry heart ; With joy your cits inhale a country breeze; Their Sunday-walks do justice to the trees. Securer he, unconscious of deceit, Who trusts attorneys with his whole estate. Than hewlio,judging like the senseless throng. Confounds the difF'rent paths of right and wrong. Methlnks I see you, fool'd by court grimace. Admire the candour of His faithless Grace ; So easy, so familiar, you and he. Promotion follows in a large degree. *' Indeed he sjnilei' — Experience wisely trust — He leers on all, but falsely on the just. Frowns might his pains or malice clearly tell ; But smiles inform you, that — the man is well. Know then, from such, (nor vainly moreapplyj The mark of friendship is a barbarous lie. UB n 149 *' l^eil! but he promised" — This your safety ? Pray, Arc you expert, at cards and dice to play ? What slut, what fav'rite pimp, your cause he- friends ? What votes have you, to serveHisGrace's ends? ** Does then no worth support my fond desire ?" It does, I grant; so, timely, friend, retire. Worth ! he regards it as a frightening elf, And hates the obvious contrast to himself. Your humble cot and frugal country store Suffice for Nature : learn to ask no more. Return, unruin'd yet ; attend your land; Drain, till, improve, and heav'nly peace command ; Then sit, and laugh (for cause you'll quickly find) At all the dangling slaves you left behind. J I f\ For me, if e'er the chase of flatt'ring gold You find me urge, though reason warns to hold, In turn correct, avert the deadly blow, Plain as a friend, and sharply as a foe. Here on a tomb, adorn'd in ancient style. Where Gothic art once form'd a costly pile. Where faithless stones now scarcely name the dead. And plaintive redbreasts warble o'er my head ; Where ivy'd oaks a friendly shade diffuse. And all with sober thoughts inspire the Muse, I sit and write, to anxious care unknown, And nothing want but your ret urji alone. M ■•*■.- ^ 150 ♦nKYAIAOr nOlHMA. THE ADMONITORY POEM OF PHOCYLIDES. Shun furtive marriage ; shun the base desire Of male embraces : ev'ry fraud refuse; Nor stain with human blood your impious hands. Live on the fruits of care ; enjoy your own, Nor sigh for riches purchas'd with injustice. Lies are mean arts : let every word be truth. Serve the Great Cause of all, admire, adore ; And parents honour in the next degree. With Justice walk; nor from her sacred path 4 < 1 M irits can possibly act divisim. Now, since ineffable goodness intends us for eternal happiness, not by t otally altering and 158 159 But the free spirit soars aloft to heav*n. Where is the use of riches to a mortal Who cannot bear his hoarded heaps away ? The stroke of death makes ev'ry station equal; But Heav'n disposes of the soul at pleasure. A king shall boast his regal pomp no more : The starveling beggar, ev'ry vulgar dead, Must join his side, and use one common mansion. Bofn but to die, these bodies soon decay ; Yet, in perpetual vig'rous youth, the soul Survives her prison, and for ever blooms. Nor fortune prosp'rous should exalt the mind, Nor adverse damp it. Serve necessity : new modeling human nature, but by rendering the corruptible part of us incorrvptible, we may per- ceive, if the expression be allowable, the necessity of a resurrection. St. Paul does not put the question, wherefore, but in what rnanna\ or how, is the body to be revived at the general day of judgement ? \\ A\ 'Tis vain to blow thy breath against a storm. Bless'd is the man whom powerful words attend; For reason conquers more than conqu'ring steel. The plastic Cause has furnished all with arms: Birds have their wings, the lion nerves robust; The steer presents his horns; the little bee Hides a sharp sting; but man above them all Exults in reason, as his strong defence. Strength must submit to wisdom ; wisdom tills The fruitful country, builds the stately towns, And guides a vessel^hrough the boist'rous sea. Hide not delinquents from their due desert; For oft the stroke of vengeance hits the jus When 'midst the wicked, nor with-holds the blow. Shun what is stol'n ; for who the theft receives* Maintains the fraud, and is himself a thief. i60 161 Give each his own : of future want beware. Your cattle fodder with a bounteous hand ; And, if a beast should in the road be fall'n, Upraise it, though an enemy's possession. Assist the wand'rer : sure 'tis worthy praise, Instead of enmity, to gain a friend. Prevent a growing evil : heal a wound. Eat not what beasts have torn ; but let the dogs Receive such offals: beasts should beasts de- You dine reproachless when the board *s your vour. Abstain from pois'nous arts and sorcery. Treat the soft infant with a gentle hand. Sedition hate. The man may sow the ocean Who hopes return of kindness from the wicked. Your hands should minister to ev'ry want, as sloth Is ever prone to theft ; nor basely wait To catch the fragments of another's table. own. Bred to no useful art, employ the spade. This world affords variety of scenes Which give a choice for labour. View the sea; How spacious is it, if you love to sail ! For tillage, see how widely spread the fields! Man should from labour hope his ev'ry meal; For ev'n the pow'rs celestial have employs ; And Toil is Virtue's immemorial friend. Learn from the ant : she leaves her humble cell. When now the fields, new -shorn,* have stor'd the barns, And wide expatiates In laborious search Of little grains. Pleas'd with her cumb'rous load. She urges and encourages the next. 162 163 Small, but industrious people! all, intent, Autumnal fruits provide for wint'ry store. Or mark the bee : her fragrant combs she builds Deep in a cavern, or some ancient oak. Live not unmarried; Nature's self com- mands That thou should'st form a rising progeny. And give that life which she hath giv'n to thee. *Tis base to prostitute a wife; you blot Indelibly your legal sons, and find The spurious issue dissolute and base*. • The original runs thus : Do not prostitute a wife, &c. I suppose that o^m^c relates to their characters, not their persons. It has long been observed, that bas- tards make an idle, debauched, and useless set of men ; which happens, I believe, partly from the vile example before their eyes, and partly from their education, which is, in general, much neglected. Touch not thy father*s second joys ; but know That she, who fills the place thy mother held. Should, like a mother, be rever*d and honoured. Shun am'rous commerce with thy sister ; shun Thy father's harlot: let their beds be sacred. How black the deed, to slay with impious art A harmless fetus, or to throw the child, New-born, a prey to rav'ning dogs and vul- tures ! Base is the wretch, who lifts his shameless hand. And to a pregnant consort deals a blow. Despoil not manhood ; Nature meant the boy To multiply. Shun foul bestiality : Nor contumelious gibe the virtuous bride. Attend to Nature in your ev*ry act. Male brutes indignant flee a male embrace ; Nor should the female imitate the male. 164 Permit not love to rule with boundless sway : Love is no god ; 'tis but a secret passion. Tempt not a brother's wife to be disloyal : Let each with conjugal affection treat His gentle spouse. What charms the fancy more Than some fond pair, who pass their smiling hours In perfect unison, from youth to age? Chuse wives with caution : studious flee the vile; Nor yield to woman, like a slave to gold. That ruling pow'r which Nature gave the man. Strange, that we search with care for gen'rous steeds. With care chuse dogs, and buy the lab'ring ox, And yet are heedless in our choice of women I 165 Though base the man, if rich, he'll gain the fair. Be not too fond of frequent marriages : iVedlock, repeated oft, adds ill to ill. Parents, be tender ; if your son transgresses. Let the fond mother's gentle hand correct him, Some friend dispassionate, or graver sage. Trick not with female arts the rip'ning boy ; Plait not his hair, nor wave the flowing curl ; But leave such foppish ornaments to girls. A blooming youth requires your strict atten« tion ; The world is vicious : close immur'd the girl Should live, nor, ere her spousals, loosely ram- ble. Of beauteous children arduous is the care. Be kind and constant where the ties of blood Require affection : if you meet a sire, Whose hoary locks remind you of your father, a ■ I 166 ' Revert?, givtf^)pfa(re,fl!l(!^ lik^a^^alhW fei? him*. .luov Let servants have aplenteoiis'bokfd^ kfld'jlavel No scant allowanie; nor impress therii o'er With hateful marki of servitude tff not 67ar '^ XMo people in Greece were 8o reniarkaWe for observing this rule as the Lacedemonians. I have somewhere read a narrative, to the following pur- pose: — An old man, intending to see the public games, happened to go first to the Athenian seats } here several young men rose, as if to accommodate him ', but, on his approach, they quickly took their • places : the old man, thus dbappointed and derided, went onward to the Lacedemonian quarter, where all stood up, and so continued, until he was fixed to his satbfaction. Aiasf said he, the Atlieniaiis kmtv what th^ ought to do, but the Lacedemonians do it. t We are supposed to brand felons; yet the . brand is, in reality, cold. We brand black cattle on the horns, which gives no uneasiness to the beast : we do not brand horses, because it would spoil their coats : but our fellow-subjects, in the West Indies, bum deep characters on their defenceless and inno- cent fellow-creatures ! X67- Such tales as hurt them in their mastei^'sJaJ^. vour. 1 1*1 j* Thq mind, when pure, corrects our earthl I I'j'o frame., :;:;iini lo;? ^'.i>t\*-^''--', u:;;^.^ <;M ■j/These are the mysteries of justice ; these,'' Will lead you safely to the verge of life. , , i.)i Jt I. - •- i i-. ■ i. ■ ' 'J- y.,\ 'ir.i\i -^ ■ -iSi ,t\^ f". : '-►.!» i ji V / I / / r / \ \ -gSk&j / I r-ftSf COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 010691375 s III- .^ ■%i::*mm,mM^>»'^mmH^Mk JlM ^«.;*» ■M'% ^ ■♦f *^'# 5«f,. »*1< *l*%i ' 9 • * ;«%■ *