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species of parody, as repugnant to piety as it is to taste,
where the poet of voluptuousness was made a preacher
of the gospel, and his muse, like the Venus in armour
at Lacedæmon, was arrayed in all the severities of
priestly instruction. Such was the «Anacreon Recan-
tatus, by Carolus de Aquino, a Jesuit, published 1701,
which consisted of a series of palinodes to the several
songs of our poet. Such too was the Christian Ana-sixteenth century. This was an idea from which the
creon of Patrignanus, another Jesuit,' who preposte-
rously transferred to a most sacred subject all that Ana-
creon had sung to festivity.

was then very young; and this discovery was considered
by some critics of that day as a literary imposition.'
1554, however, he gave Anacreon to the world, accom-
panied with Annotations and a Latin version of the
greater part of the odes. The learned still hesitated to
receive them as the relics of the Teian bard, and sus-
pected them to be the fabrication of some monks of the

classic muse recoiled; and the Vatican manuscript, consulted by Scaliger and Salmasius, confirmed the anItiquity of most of the poems. A very inaccurate copy His metre has been very frequently adopted by the of this MS. was taken by Isaac Vossius, and this is the modern Latin poets. Scaliger, Taubmannus, Barthius, authority which Barnes has followed in his collation; and others, have evinced that it is by no means uncon-accordingly he misrepresents almost as often as he genial with that language.3 The Anacreontics of Sca-quotes; and the subsequent editors, relying upon him, liger, however, scarcely deserve the name; they are have spoken of the manuscript with not less confidence glittering with conceits, and, though often elegant, are than ignorance. The literary world has, at length, been always laboured. The beautiful fictions of Angerianus,4 gratified with this curious memorial of the poet, by the have preserved, more happily than any, the delicate turn industry of the Abbé Spaletti, who, in 1781, published of those allegorical fables, which, frequently passing at Rome a fac-simile of the pages of the Vatican manuthrough the mediums of version and imitation, have script, which contained the odes of Anacreon.3 generally lost their finest rays in the transmission. Many of the Italian poets have sported on the subjects, and in the manner of Anacreon. Bernardo Tasso first introduced the metre, which was afterwards polished and enriched by Chabriera and others.5 If we may judge by the references of Degen, the Gerinan language abounds in Anacreontic imitations: and Hagedorn 6 is one among many who have assumed him as a model. La Farre, Chaulieu, and the other light poets of France, have professed too to cultivate the muse of Téos; but they have attained all her negligence, with little of the The old French translations, by Ronsard and Belleau, grace that embellishes it. In the delicate bard of Schi--the former published in 1555, the latter in. 1556. It ras7 we find the kindred spirit of Anacreon: some of appears that Heary Stephen communicated his manuhis gazelles, or songs, possess all the character of our script of Anacreon to Ronsard before he published it, poct. by a note of Muretus upon one of the sonnets of that

Monsieur Gail has given a catalogue of all the editions and translations of Anacreon. I find their number to be much greater than I could possibly have had an opportunity of consulting. I shall therefore content myself with enumerating those editions only which I have been able to collect; they are very few, but I believe they are the most important:

The edition by Henry Stephen, 1554, at Paris-the Latin version is, by Colomesius, attributed to John Dorat.4

The edition by Le Fevre, 1660.

The edition by Madame Dacier, 1681, with a prose translation.6

We come now to a retrospect of the editions of Ana-poct.5 creon. To Henry Stephen we are indebted for having first recovered his remains from the obscurity in which they had reposed for so many ages. He found the seventh ode, as we are told, on the cover of an old book, and communicated it to Victorius, who mentions thein circumstance in his «Various Readings. Stephen

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The edition by Longepierre, 1684, with a translation verse.

The edition by Baxter; London, 1695.

Robertellus, in his work De Ratione corrigendi, pronounces these verses to be triflings of some insipid Græcist.

Ronsard commemorates this event:

Je vay boire à Henri Etienne,
Qui des enfers nous a rendu,

Du vieil Anacreon perdu,

La douce lyre Teienne.

I 61 the bowl to Stephen's name,

Ode xv, book 5.

Who rescued from the gloom of night
The Teian bard of festive fame,

And brought his living lyre to light.

3 This manuscript, which Spaletti thinks as old as the tenth century, was brought from the Palatine into the Vatican library; it is a kind of anthology of Greek epigrams; and in the 676th page of it are found the ἡμιαμβια συμποσιακα of Anacreon.

Le même (M. Vossius) m'a dit qu'il avait possédé un Anacréon, où Scaliger avait marqué de sa main qu'Henri Etienne n'était pas l'auteur de la version Latine des odes de co poëte, mais Jean

Dorat. Paulus Colomesius, Particularités.

Colomesius, however, seems to have relied too implicitly on Vos

See Cresimbeni, Historia della Volg. Poes. L'aimable ilagedorn vaut quelquefois Anacreon. Dorat, Idée sius: almost all these Particularités begin with M. Vossius m'a dit.. de la Poesie Allemande.

See Toderini on the Learning of the Turks, as translated by De Cournard.-Prince Cantemir has made the Russians acquainted with Anacreon. See bis Life, prefixed to a translation of his Satires, by the Abbé de Guasco.

5. La fiction de ce sonnet, comme l'auteur mème m'a dit, est prise d'une ode d'Anacréon, encore non imprimée, qu'il a depuis traduite. ou may çin yedidwv..

The author of Nouvelles de la Repub, des Lett. praises this translation very liberally. I have always thought it vague and spiritless.

A French translation by la Fosse, 1704. L'Histoire des Odes d'Anacréon, by Monsieur Gacon; Rotterdam, 1712.

A translation in English verse, by several hands, 1713, in which the odes by Cowley are inserted.

The edition by Barnes; London, 1721.

The edition by Dr Trapp, 1733, with a Latin version in elegiac metre.

A translation in English verse, by John Addison, 1735. A collection of Italian translations of Anacreon, published at Venice, 1736, consisting of those by Corsini, Regnier, Salvini, Marchetti, and one by several anonymous authors.

A translation in English verse, by Fawkes and Doctor Broome, 1760.3

Another, anonymous, 1768.

The edition by Spaletti, at Rome, 1781; with the fac-simile of the Vatican MS.

The edition by Degen, 1786," who published also a German translation of Anacreon, esteemed the best, A translation in English verse, by Urquhart, 1787. The edition by Citoyen Gail, at Paris, seventh year, 1799, with a prose translation.

ODES OF ANACREON.

ODE I. 4

I SAW the smiling bard of pleasure,
The minstrel of the Teian measure;
'T was in a vision of the night,

He beam'd upon my wandering sight:
I heard his voice, and warmly press'd
The dear enthusiast to my breast.
His tresses wore a silvery dye,
But beauty sparkled in his eye;
Sparkled in his eyes of fire,
Through the mist of soft desire.

The notes of Regnier are not inserted in this edition: they must be interesting, as they were for the most part communicated by the ingenious Menage, who, we may perceive, bestowed some research on the subject, by a passage in the Menagiana—«C'est aussi lai (M. Bigot)

His lip exhaled, whene'er he sigh'd,
The fragrance of the racy tide;
And, as with weak and reeling feet,
He came my cordial kiss to meet,
An infant of the Cyprian band
Guided him on with tender hand.
Quick from his glowing brows he drew
Ilis braid, of many a wanton hue;

I took the braid of wanton twine,

It breathed of him and blush'd with wine!
I hung it o'er my thoughtless brow,
And ah! I feel its magic now!

I feel that even his garland's touch
Can make the bosom love too much!

ODE II.

GIVE me the harp of epic song,
Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;
But tear away the sanguine string,
For war is not the theme I sing.
Proclaim the laws of festal rite,
I'm monarch of the board to-night;
And all around shall brim as high,
And quaff the tide as deep as I!
And when the cluster's mellowing dews
Their warm, enchanting balm infuse,
Our feet shall catch the elastic bound,
And reel us through the dance's round.
Oh Bacchus! we shall sing to thee,
In wild but sweet ebriety!

And flash around such sparks of thought,
As Bacchus could alone have taught!
Then give the harp of epic song,
Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;
But tear away the sanguine string,
For war is not the theme I sing!

I took the braid of wanton twine,

It breathed of him, etc.] Philostratus has the same thought in one of his Epwttaa, where he speaks of the garland which he had sent to his mistr. 88. Ει δε βούλει τι φίλω χαρίζεσθαι, τα qui s'est donné la peine de conferer des manuscrits en Italie dans le λείψανα αντιπέμψον, μηκετι πνέοντα ῥόδων μόνον temps que je travaillais sur Anacreon. -Menagiana, seconde partie.xxx I find in Haym's Notizia de' Libri rari, an Italian translation

mentioned, by Caponne in Venice, 1670.

> This is the most complete of the English translations.

This ode is the first of the series in the Vatican manuscript, which attributes it to no other poet than Anacreon. They who assert that the manuscript imputes it to Basilius have been misled by the words Tou ZUTO Baschixons in the margin, which are merely intended as a title to the following ode. Whether it be the production of Anacreon or not, it has all the features of ancient simplicity, and is a beautiful imitation of the poet's happiest manner. Sparkled in his eyes of fire,

Through the mist of soft desire.] How could he know at the first look (says Baxter) that the poet was prasuvos? There are surely many tell-tales of this propensity; and the following are the indices, which the physiognomist gives, describing a disposition perhaps not unlike that of Anacreon: Opakot khusɔjzvor, xuparνοντες εν αυτοίς, εις αφροδισία και ευπάθειαν επτοηνται· ούτε δε αδικοι, ούτε κακουργοί, ούτε φυσεως prukns, oute aμov7ot.-Adamantius." The eyes that are hamid and fluctuating show a propensity to pleasure and love;they bespeak too a mind of integrity and beneficence, a generosity of disposition, and a genius for poetry."

. If thou art inclined to gratify thy lover, send him back the remains of the garland, no longer breathing of roses only, but of thee! Which pretty conceit is borrowed (as the author of the Observer remarks) in a well-known little song of Ben Jon

son's:

But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent it back to me;

Since when, it looks and smells, I swear,

Not of itself, but thee!

And ah! I feel its magic now!] This idea, as Longepierre re-
marks, is in an epigram of the seventh book of the Anthologia.
Εξοτε μοι πίνοντι συνεςάουσα Χαρικλώ
Λαθρη τους ίδιους αμφέβαλε σεράνους,
Πυρ όλουν δαπτει με.

While I unconscious quaff'd my wine,
T was then thy fingers slyly stole
Upon my brow that wreath of thine,
Which since has madden'd all my soul!

Proclaim the laws of festal rite.] The ancients prescribed certain

Baptista Porta tells us some strange opinions of the ancient phy-laws of drinking at their festivals, for an account of which see the

siognomists on this subject, their reasons for which were curious, and perhaps not altogether fanciful. Vide Physiognom. Johan. Bap

tist. Porta.

commentators. Anacreon here acis the symposiarch, or master of the festival. I have translated according to those who consider κυπελλα θεσμών as an inversion of θεσμούς κυπελλων.

ODE III.'

LISTEN to the Muse's lyre,

Master of the pencil's fire!

Sketch'd in painting's bold display,
Many a city first pourtray;
Many a city, revelling free,
Warm with loose festivity.
Picture then a rosy train,
Bacchants straying o'er the plain;
Piping, as they roam along,
Roundelay or shepherd-song.
Paint me next, if painting may
Such a theme as this pourtray,
All the happy heaven of love,
These elect of Cupid prove.

ODE IV. 2

VULCAN! hear your glorious task;
I do not from your labours ask
In gorgeous panoply to shine,

For war was ne'er a sport of mine.
No-let me have a silver bowl,
Where I may cradle all my soul;
But let not o'er its simple frame
Your mimic constellations flame;
Nor grave upon the swelling side
Orion, scowling o'er the tide.
I care not for the glittering wain,
Nor yet the weeping sister train.
But oh! let vines luxuriant roll
Their blushing tendrils round the bowl.
While many a rose-lipp'd bacchant maid
Is culling clusters in their shade.
Let sylvan gods, in antic shapes,
Wildly press the gushing grapes;
And flights of loves, in wanton ringlets,
Flit around on golden winglets;
While Venus, to her mystic bower,
Beckons the rosy vintage-Power.

ODE V.3

GRAVE me a cup with brilliant grace,

Deep as the rich and holy vase,

'Monsieur La Fosse has thought proper to lengthen this poem by considerable interpolations of his own, which he thinks are indispensably necessary to the completion of the description.

2 This is the ode which Aulus Gellius tells us was performed by minstrels at an entertainment where he was present.

While many a rose-lipp'd bacchant maid, etc.] I have given this according to the Vatican manuscript, in which the ode concludes with the following lines, not inserted accurately in any of the editions: Ποίησον αμπελους μου Και βοτρυας κατ' αυτών Και μαινάδας τρυγώσας, Ποιεί δε ληνον οίνου, Ληνοβατας πατούντας, Τους σατύρους γελώντας, Και χρυσούς τους έρωτας, Και Κυθέρην γελωσαν, Όμου καλῳ Λυκίῳ, Έρωτα και Αφροδίτην.

Degen thinks that this ode is a more modern imitation of the preceding. There is a poem by Cælius Calcagninus, in the manner of both, where he gives instructions about the making of a ring. Tornabis annulum mihi

Et fabre, et apte, et commode, etc. etc.

Which on the shrine of Spring reposes,
When shepherds hail that hour of roses.
Grave it with themes of chaste design,
Form'd for a heavenly bowl like mine.
Display not there the barbarous rites
In which religious zeal delights;
any tale of tragic fate,

Nor

Which history trembles to relate!
No-cull thy fancies from above,
Themes of heaven and themes of love.
Let Bacchus, Jove's ambrosial boy,
Distil the grape in drops of joy,
And while he smiles at every tear,
Let warm-eyed Venus, dancing near,
With spirits of the genial bed,
The dewy herbage deftly tread.
Let Love be there, without his arms,
In timid nakedness of charms;
And all the Graces link'd with Love,
Blushing through the shadowy grove;
While rosy boys, disporting round,
In circlets trip the velvet ground;
But ah! if there Apollo toys

I tremble for my rosy boys!

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I caught the boy, a goblet's tide
Was richly mantling by my side,
I caught him by his downy wing,
And whelm'd him in the racy spring.
Oh! then I drank the poison'd bowl,
And Love now nestles in my soul!
Yes, yes, my soul is Cupid's nest,
I feel him fluttering in my breast.

ODE VII..

THE women tell me every day
That all my bloom has past away,
Behold, the pretty wantons cry,
Behold this mirror with a sigh;
The locks upon thy brow are few,
And, like the rest, they're withering too?
Whether decline has thinn'd my hair,
I'm sure I neither know nor care;
But this I know, and this I feel,
As onward to the tomb I steal,

Ecce rosas inter latitantem invenit amorem
Et simul annexis floribus implicuit.
Luctatur primo, et contra nitentibus alis
Indomitus tentat solvere vincla puer,
Mox ubi lacteolas et dignas matre papillas
Vidit et ora ipsos nota movere Deos.
Impositosque come ambrosios ut sentit odores
Quosque legit diti messe beatus Arabs;

I (dixit) mea, quære novum tibi mater amorem,
Imperio sedes hæc erit apta meo.»

As fair Hyella, through the bloomy grove,
A wreath of many mingled flow'rets wove,
Within a rose a sleeping love she found,
And in the twisted wreaths the baby bound.
Awhile he struggled, and impatient tried
To break the rosy bonds the virgin tied;
But when he saw her bosom's milky swell,
Her features, where the eye of Jove might dwell;
And caught the ambrosial odours of her hair,
Rich as the breathings of Arabian air;

Ob mother Venus (said the raptured child
By charms, of more than mortal bloom, beguiled),
Go, seek another boy, thou 'st lost thine own,
Hyella's bosom shall be Cupid's throne!

This epigram of Naugerius is imitated by Lodovico Dolce, in a pom beginning

Montre raccoglie bor uno, hor altro fiore-
Vicína a un rio di chiare et lucid' onde,
Lidia, etc. etc.

Alberti has imitated this ode, in a poem beginning

Nisa mi dice e Clori

Tirsi, tu se par veglio.

Whether decline has thinn'd my hair,

I'm sure I neither know nor care.] Henry Stephen very justly remarks the elegant negligence of expression in the original here:

Εγω δε τας κομας μεν Ειτ' εισιν, ειτ' απήλθον Ουκ οίδα.

And Longepierre has adduced from Catullus what he thinks a similar instance of this simplicity of manner:

Ipse quis sit, utrum sit, an non sit, id quoque nescit. Longepierre was a good critic, but perhaps the line which he has selected is a specimen of a carelessness not very elegant; at the same time I confess, that none of the Latin poets have ever appeared to me so capable of imitating the graces of Anacreon as Catullus, if he had not allowed a depraved imagination to hurry him so often into vulgar licentiousness.

That still as death approches nearer,
The joys of life are sweeter, dearer;
And had I but an hour to live,
That little hour to bliss I'd give!

ODE VIII.'

I CARE not for the idle state
Of Persia's king, the rich, the great!
I envy not the monarch's throne,
Nor wish the treasured gold my own.
But oh! be mine the rosy braid,
The fervour of my brows to shade;
Be mine the odours, richly sighing,
Amidst my hoary tresses flying.
To-day I'll haste to quaff my wine,
As if to-morrow ne'er should shine;
But if to-morrow comes, why then-
I'll haste to quaff my wine again.
And thus while all our days are bright,
Nor time has dimm'd their bloomy light,
Let us the festal hours beguile

With mantling cup and cordial smile;

That still as death approaches nearer,

The joys of life are sweeter, dearer.] Pontanus has a very delicate thought upon the subject of old age:

Quid rides, Matrona? senem quid temnis amantem?
Quisquis amat nulla est conditione senex.

Why do you scorn my want of youth,

And with a smile my brow behold?

Lady, dear! believe this truth

That he who loves cannot be old.

The German poet Lessing has imitated this ode. Vol. i, p. 24.» -Degen. Gail de Editionibus.

Baxter conjectures that this was written upon the occasion of our poet's returning the money to Policrates, according to the anecdote in Stobæus.

I care not for the idle state Of Persia's king, etc.] There is a fragment of Archilochus in Plutarch, De tranquillitate animi,' which our poet has very closely imitated here: it begins,

Ου μοι τα Γυγέω του πολυχρυσου μελεί.» —BARNES.

In one of the monkish imitators of Anacreon we find the same thought.

Ψυχήν εμήν ερωτώ,
Τι σοι θελεις γενεσθαι ;

Θελεις Γυγέω, τα και τα;

Be mine the odours, richly sighing,

Amidst my hoary tresses flying. In the original, uporti xaтαβρέχειν υπηνην. On account of this idea of perfuming the beard, Cornelius de Pauw pronounces the whole ode to be the spurious production of some lascivious monk, who was nursing his beard with unguents. But he should bave known that this was an ancient eastern custom, which, if we may believe Savary, still exists: « Vous voyez, Monsieur (says this traveller), que l'usage antique de se parfumer la tête et la barbe, (a) célébré par le prophète roi, subsiste encore de nos jours.»-Lettre 12. Savary likewise cites this very ode of Anacreon. Angerianus has not thought the idea inconsistent -he has introduced it in the following lines:

Hæc mihi cura, rosis et cingere tempora myrto,
Et curas multo dilapidare mero.
Hæc mibi cura, comas et barbam tingere succo
Assyrio et dulces continuare jocos.

This be my care, to twine the rosy wreath,
And drench my sorrows in the ample bowl;
To let my beard the Assyrian unguent breathe,
And give a loose to levity of soul!

(a) Sicut unguentum in capite quod descendit in barbam Aaron.Psaume 133."

And shed from every bowl of wine
The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine!
For death may come with brow unpleasant,
May come when least we wish him present,
And beckon to the sable shore,

And grimly bid us-drink no more!

ODE IX.

I PRAY thee, by the gods above,

Give me the mighty bowl I love,

And let me sing, in wild delight,

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I will-I will be mad to-night!>
Alemæon once, as legends tell,

Was frenzied by the fiends of hell;
Orestes too, with naked tread,
Frantic paced the mountain head;
And why!-a murder'd mother's shade
Before their conscious fancy play'd;
But I can ne'er a murderer be,
The grape alone shall bleed by me;
Yet can I rave, in wild delight,

I will-I will be mad to-night.
The son of Jove, in days of yore
Imbrued his hands in youthful gore,
And brandish'd, with a maniac joy,
The quiver of the expiring boy:
And Ajax, with tremendous shield,
Infuriate scour'd the guiltless field.
But I, whose hands no quiver hold,
No weapon but this flask of gold,
The trophy of whose frantic hours
Is but a scatter'd wreath of flowers;
Yet, yet can sing with wild delight,
. I will-I will be mad to-night!

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This ode is addressed to a swallow. I find, from Degen and from Gail's index, that the German poet Weisse has imitated it, Scherz. Leider. lib. ii, carm. 5; that Ramler also has imitated it, Lyr. Blumenlese, lib. iv, p. 335; and some others.-See Gail de Editionibus. We are referred by Degen to that stupid book, the Epistles of Alciphron, tenth epistle, third book; where Iophon complains to Eraston of being wakened, by the crowing of a cock, from his vision of riches.

Or, as Tereus did of old
(So the fabled tale is told),
Shall I tear that tongue away,
Tongue that utter'd such a lay?
How unthinking hast thou been!
Long before the dawn was seen,
When I slumber'd in a dream,
(Love was the delicious theme!)
Just when I was nearly blest,

Ah! thy matin broke my rest!

ODE XI.'

TELL me, gentle youth, I pray thee,
What in purchase shall I pay thee
For this little waxen toy,
Image of the Paphian boy?»
Thus I said, the other day,

To a youth who pass'd my way.
Sir, (he answer'd, and the while
Answer'd all in Doric style,)

Take it, for a trifle take it;
Think not yet that I could make it;
Pray believe it was not I;
No-it cost me many a sigh,
And I can no longer keep
Little gods who murder sleep!.

. Here, then, here,» I said, with joy,
Here is silver for the boy:
He shall be my bosom guest,
Idol of my pious breast!

Little Love! thou now art mine,
Warm me with that torch of thine;

Make me feel as I have felt,

Or thy waxen frame shall melt.

I must burn in warm desire,

Or thou, my boy, in yonder fire!

ODE XII.

THEY tell how Atys, wild with love,
Roams the mount and haunted grove;

If in prating from morning till night,

A sign of our wisdom there be,

The swallows are wiser by right,

For they prattle much faster than we.

Or, as Tereus did of old, etc.] Modern poetry bas confirmed the name of Philomel upon the nightingale; but many very respectable ancients assigned this metamorphosis to Progne, and made Philomel the swallow, as Anacreon does here.

It is difficult to preserve with any grace the narrative simplicity of this ode, and the bumour of the turn with which it concludes. I feel that the translation must appear very vapid, if not ludicrous, to an English reader.

And I can no longer keep

Little gods who murder sleep! I have not literally rendered the epithet Topext2; if it has any meaning here, it is one, per

haps, better omitted.

I must burn in warm desire,

Or thor, my boy, in yonder fire !] Monsieur Longepierre conjectures from this, that whatever Anacreon might say, he sometimes felt the inconveniences of old age, and here solicits from the power of Love

Silly swallow! prating thing, etc.] The loquacity of the swallow a warmth which he could no longer expect from Nature. was proverbialized: thus Nicostratus

Ει το συνεχώς και πολλα και ταχέως λαλειν Ην του φρονειν παρατημον, αἱ χελιδόνες Ελέγοντ' αν ήμων σωφρονέτεραι πολυ.

They tell how Atys, wild with love,

Roams the mount and haunted grove.] There are many contradicetory stories of the loves of Cybele and Atys. It is certain that he was mutilated, but whether by his own fury, or her jealousy, is a point which authors are not agreed upon.

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