Her hand with skill th’embroider'd rein controls; Whom wouldst thou fly? Stay, lovely virgin, stay!
Back fly the streets, as swift the chariot rolls. Speak every thought! far hence be fears away!
Along the wheel-worn road they hold their way, Speak ! and be truth in every accent found !
The domes retreat, the sinking towers decay : Dread to deceive! we tread on hallow'd ground?
Bare to the knee succinct a damsel train

By the stern power who guards this sacred place,
Behind attends, and glitters tow'rd the plain. By the illustrious authors of thy race;
As when her limbs divine, Diana laves

By Jove, to whwm the stranger's cause belongs, In fair Parthenius, or th’ Amnesian waves, To whom the suppliant, and who feels the wrongs; Sublime in royal state the bounding roes

O guard me, save me, in the needful hour! Whirl her bright car along the mountain brows; Without thy aid, thy Jason is no more ; Swift to her fane in pomp the goddess moves ; To thce a suppliant, in distress I bend, The nymphs attend that haunt the shady groves, To thee a stranger, and who wants a friend ! Th’ Amnesian fount, or silver-streaming rills; Then, when between us seas and mountains rise, Nymphs of the vales, or Oreads of the hills ! Medea's name shall sound in distant skies; The fawning beasts before the goddess play, All Greece to thee shall owe her heroes fates, Or, trembling, savage adoration pay :

And bless Medea through her hundred states. Thus on her car subliine the nymph appears, The mother and the wife, who now in vain The crowd falls back, and as she moves reveres ; Roll their sad eyes fast-streaming o'er the main, Swift to the fanc aloft her course she bends; Shall stay their tears; the mother and the wife The fane she reaches, and to earth descends : Shall bless thee for a son's or husband's life! Then to her train—" Ah me! I fear we stray, Fair Ariadne, sprung from Minos' bed, Misled by Folly to this lonely way!

Sav'd the brave Theseus, and with Theseus filed, Alas! should Jason with his Greeks appear,

Forsook her father, and her native plain, Where should we fly? I fear, alas, I fear! And stemm’d the tumults of the surging main ; No more the Colchian youths, and virgin train, Yet the stern sire relented, and forgave Haunt the cool shade, or tread in dance the plain: The maid, whose only crime it was to save: But since alone ;-with sports beguile the hours, Ev'n the just gods forgave : and now on high Come chamt the song, or pluck the blooming flowers: A star she shines, and beautifies the sky : Pluck every sweet, to deck your virgin bowers !" What blessings then shall rightcous Heaven decree Then warbling soft', she lifts her heavenly voice; For all our heroes sav'd, and sav'd by thee ! But sick with mighty love, the song is noise ; Heaven gave thee not, to kill, so soft an air, She hears from every note a discord rise,

And Cruelty sure never look'd so fair !" Till, pausing, on her tongue the music dies; He ceas'd; but left so charming on her ear She hates each object, every face offends , His voice, that listening still she seem'd to hear : In every wish, her soul to Jason sends;

Her eye to earth she bends with modest grace, With sharpen'd eyes the distant lawn explores, And Heaven in smiles is open'd in her face. To find the object whom her soul adores :

A glance she steals; but rosy blushes spread At every whisper of the passing air,

Q'er her fair cheek, and then she drops her heads She starts, she turns, and hopes her Jason there; A thousand words at once to speak she tries; Again she fondly looks, nor looks in vain; in vain-but speaks a thousand with her eyes : He comes, her Jason shines along the plain. Trembling, the shining casket she expands, As when, emerging from the watery way,

Then gives the magic virtue to his hands; Refulgent Sirius litts his golden ray,

And had the power been granted to convey He shines terrific ! for his burning breath

Her heart-shad given her very heart away. Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death; Such to the nymph approaching Jason shows, Bright author of unutterable woes; Before her eyes a swimming darkness spread, EPISTOLA AD AMICUM RUSTICANTEM, Her flush'd cheek glow'd, her very heart was dead;

SCRIPTA VERE INEUNTE CANTAB. 1709. No more her knees their wonted office knew,

Ecquid absenti tibi cura Grantæ ?. Fix'd, without motion, as to earth she grew:

Ecquid antiqui memor es sodalis !
Her train recedes; the meeting lovers gaze

Chare permultis, mihi præter omnes
In silent wonder, and in still amaze :
As two fair cedars on the mountain's brow,

Chare Georgi. Pride of the groves ! with roots adjoining grow;

Cernis ! ut mulcet levis aura campos ! Erect and motionless the stately trees

Ut rosa dulci, violisque terram Awhile remain, while sleeps each fanning breeze, Flora depingit, Zephyrusque blandis Till from th’ Folian caves a blast unbound (sound;

Ventilat alis ! Bends their proud tops, and bids their boughs re- Tarde, quid cessas? Age Rozinantis Thus gazing they, till by the breath of love Terga conscendas eques ingementis, Strongly at length inspir'd, they speak, they move : Tenè ruralis Galatæa duris With smiles the love-sick virgin he surveyd,

Detinet Ulnis ? And fondly thus addrest the blooming maid:

Digne succendi meliore flamma !-“ Dismiss, my fair, my love, thy virgin fear;

Sive Clarissam', Juvenumvè curam 'Tis Jason speaks, no enemy is here!

Philliden mavis, placeatvè, quondain Man, haughty man, is of obdurate kind;

Pulchra, Lycoris But Jason bears no proud, inhuman mind, By gentle manners, softest arts refind.

'Temple of Hecate.

8 Obeso fuit corpore. • 947,

» Tres elegantes apud Cantabrigiam puellæ.

7

ODE XV.

Tarde, quid cessas? tibi multa virgo
Splendidos lædit lacryinis ocellos,

SIXTEEN ODES OF ANACREONS.
Et tibi frustrà ad speculum coinarum

Circinat orbes !
Te frequens votis revocat sophistes,

HAPPY LIFE.
Dum Johannensi madidus İyæo,
De tubis haurit, revomitque dulcem

The wealth of Gyges I despise ;
Undique nubem.

Genis are useless glittering toys.

Gold I leave, and such vain things, Quin velis scribam quid habet novorum

To the low aim and pride of kings. Granta ? Marlburus spoliis onustus,

Let my hair with unguents flow, Gallicas fudit propè 'Scaldis undam

With rosy garlands crown my brow!

Strage Phalangas. The present inoment I enjoy, 0! triumphalem gladium recondas !

Doom'd in the next, perhaps, to die! Ite vos laurus sanie rubentes !

Then, while the hour serenely shines;
Sis meinor pacis, viridique cingas

Toss the gay die, and quaff thy wines ;
Tempora Myrto!

But ever, in the genial hour,

To Bacchus the libation pour, Huc ades dirûm atque hominum voluptas

Lest Death in wrath approach, and cry, Mollè subridens, Venus ! huc sorores

“ Man-taste no more the cup of Joy."
Gratiæ ! longùm vale, 0! Minerva,
Aspera Virgo !

ODE XVI.
Barbaro tandem satiata ludo,
Ægidem ponas, gladiumque; Castam

THE POWER OF BEAUTY.
Virginem dirus gladius, feroxque

Dedecet Ægis.

Some sing of Thebes, and some destroy

In lofty numbers haughty Troy. Flagitas nostræ quid agunt camoenæ?

I mourn, alas ! in plaintive strains, Uror infelix! mihi ine Belinda

My own captivity and chains ! Surripit! Collum 0! niveum, O! Puellæ

No navy, rang'd in proud array,

Suave labellum ! No foot, no horseman, arm'd to slay, Ah! ut obliquo aspiciens ocello

My peace alarm ! Far other foes, Torruit pectus neque tu furoris

Far other hosts, create my woes :
Inscius blandi! tibi sævit imis

Strange, dangerous hosts, that ambush'd lic
Flamma medullis! In every bright love-darting eyc !

Snch as destroy, when beauty arms
Tu tamen felix! cohibere tristes

To conquer, dreadful in its charms !
Tu potes curas ! Cerealis 2 haustus
Est tibi, præsens relevare diro

Pectora luctu.
Corticem astrictum pice cum reducis,

TO HIS MITRESS, Audin' ingenti tonat ut boatu

The gods o'er mortals prove their sway,
Fumidus! summo ruit ut lagenæ

And steal thein from theinselves away :
Sp
eus ore !

Transform'd by their almighty hands,
Cernis ! ut vitro nitet invidendo

Sad Niobe an image stands; Aureum nectar! comes it facetus

And Philomel, up-born on wings
Cui jocus, quocum Venus & Cupido

Through air, her mournful story sings
Spicula tingunt. Would Heaven, indulgent to my vow,

The happy change I wish, allow;
Jam memor charæ, cyathum coronas,

The envy'd mirror I would be, Virginis :-plenum video !-ah! caveto

That thou might'st always gaze on me;
Doxtra nè quasset malè, dum laborat

And could my naked heart appear,
Pondere dulci !

Thou ’dst see thyself for thou art there!
Enge! siccâsti bene, fortiterque !

(! were I made thy folding vest, Hinc adest curæ medicina ! suaves

That thou might'st clasp me to thy breast:

Or turn'd into a fount, to lave Hinc tibi somni, & tibi suaviora

Somnia somnis!

Thy naked beautjes in my wave!

Thy bosom-cincture I would grow, Hos bibens succos, nihil invidebis

To warm those little hills of snow; Italis, quamvis cyathi Falemo

Thy ointment, in rich fragrant streanis Dulce nigrescant, neque Gallicanæ

To wander o'er thy beauteous limbs ;

Laudibus uvæ ! Thy chain of shining pearl-to deck, Hic Johannensi latitans suili

And close embrace thy graceful neck: Grunnio, scribens sitiente labro,

A very sandal I would be Aut graves haustus, inimica Musis

'To tread on--if trod on by thee! Pocula, duco.

3 First published in the Gentleman's Magazine ; 1 Juxtà Aldenardum.

and afterwards inserted in the translations of ? Anglicè bottled ale.

Anaorcon, published by Mr. Fawkos

ODZ XX.

ODE XXV.

I, peaceful I, no falchion wield;
ODE XXIV.

I bend no bow, I poise no shield.
IMITATED.

The flowery garlau! crowns my hairs,

My hand the powerful goblet bears ; Aras! alas! I see each day

The powerful goblet, nobly brave,
Steals me from anyself away ;

I drain, and then 'tis sweet to rava
And every step of life I tread,
I speed to mingle with the dead.

ODE XXXVI.
How many years are past, my friends,
I know, and there my knowledge ends.

Talk not to me of pedant rules;
How many years are still in store,

I leave debates to learned fools, I neither can, nor would explore.

Who solemnly in form advise; Then, since the bours incessant fly,

At best, impertinently wise ! They ail shall find me crown'd with joy.

To me more pleasing precepts give, To those, my cares I here bequeath,

And teach the science how to live; Who meanly die for fear of death,

To bury in the friendly draught And daily with assiduous strife

Sorrows that spring from too much thoughts Contrive to live, accurs'd with life.

To learn soft lessons from the fair, Then, Care, begone! I'd dance and play ; How life may glide exempt from care. Hence, with thy serious face au ay !

Alas! I'm old! I see my head I'll laugh, and whilst gay wine inflames,

With hoary locks by Time o'erspread : I'll court the laughter-loving daines;

Then instant be the goblet brought, And study to resign my breath

To make me young--at least in thought In extasy, and smile in death.

Alas! incessant speeds the day
When I must mix with commion clay;
When I must tread the dismal shore,

And dream of love and wine no more.
IMITATED.
Bring me, O bring th’ enlivening Iraught,

ODE XXXVII.
Lenient of grief, and anxious thought.

THE SPRING.
Then Care retires, asham'd to show
His downcast eye, and faded brow.

SEE, Winter's past ! the seasons bring
I banish business to the great,

Soft breezes with returning Spring ; To all that cuise, yet covet state.

At whose approach the Graces wear Death hastes amain: then who would rug Fresh honours in their flowing hair : To meet what most he strives to shun?

The raging Seas forget to roar, Or antedate the dreadful day

And, smiling, gently kiss the shore : By cares, and aid the fiend to slay?

The sportive duck, in wanton play, If tears could bribe fris dreadful powers,

Now dives, now rises into day; I'd weep, and bless the precious showers;

The cranes from freezing skies repair, But let our lot be joy or woe,

And sailing iloat to warmer air: Alike he speeds to strike the blow.

Th' enlivening Suns in glory rise, Then crown the bowl !--ye sorrows, fly

And gaily dance along the skies. To kill some wretch who wants to die.

The clouds disperse; or if in showers They fall, it is to wake the flowers :

See, verdure clothes the teeming Earth!
ODE XXXI.

The olive struggles into birth :
THE PLEASING FRENZY.

The swelling grapes adorn the vine,

And kindly promise future wine : Now bring, by all the powers divine,

Blest juice ! already I in thought
Bring me a bowl of rosy wine;

Quaff an imaginary draught.
A mighty bowl of wine I crave :
When wine inspires, 'tis sweet to rave
In frantic rage Alemæon drew
His falchion, and his mother * slew :

GAY LIFE.
Orestes in a furious mood

Give me Homer's tuneful lyre,
Raring shed his mother's " blood.
Dreadful, sober madmen, they !

Let the sound my breast inspire !
None, harmless drunkard, none I slay:

But with no troublesome delight The blood of grapes I only crave;

Of arms, and heroes slain in tight: I quaff it, and 'tis sweet to rave.

Let it play no conquests here, Alcides, frantic, grasp'd his bow;

Or conquests only o'er the fair! His quiver rattled, stord with woe :

Boy, reach that volume-book divine ; Stern Ajax shook his glittering blade,

The statutes of the god of wine ! And broad his sevenfold shield display'd :

He, legislator, statutes draws;

And I, his judge, enforce his laws;
Dangerous madman ! how he drew
His sword, and hosts in fancy slew !

And, faithful to the weighty trust,
Compel his vot'ries to be just :

Thus round, the bowl impartial flics, • Eryphila

Clytemaestca Till to the sprightly dance we rise ;

ODB XLVIII.

ODE L.

ODE LII.

We frisk it with a lively bound,

Gently touch it, while I sing Charm'd with the lyre's harmonious sound : The Rose, the glory of the Spring. Then pour forth, with an heat divine,

To Heaven the Rose in fragrance flies, Rapturous songs that breathe of wine.

The sweetest incense of the skies.
Thee, joy of Earth, when veral hours
Pour forth a blooming waste of flowers,

The gaily-smiling Graces wear,
THE HAPPY EFFECTS OF WINE.

A trophy in their flowing hair.
See! see the jolly god appears;

Thee Venus queen of beauty loves, His hand a mighty goblet bears:

And, crown'd with thee, more graceful moves With sparkling wine full-charg'd it fows,

In fabled song, and tuneful lays, The sovereign cure of human woes.

Their favourite Rose the Muses praise : Wine gives a kind release from care,

To pluck the Rose, the virgin-train And courage to subdue the fair;

With blood their pretty fingers stain, Instructs the cheerful to advance

Nor dread the pointed terrours round, Harmonious in the sprightly dance:

That threaten, and inflict a wound: Hail, goblet ! rich with generous wines !

See ! how they wave the charming toy, See! round the verge a vine-branch twincs. Now kiss, now snuff the fragrant joy! See ! how the mimic clusters roll,

The Rose the poets strive to praise As ready to re-fill the bow!!

And for it would exchange their bays; Wine keeps its happy patients free

0! ever to the sprightly feast From every painful malady ;

Admitted, welcome, pleasing guest ! Our best physician all the year:

But chiefly when the goblet tlows, Thus guarded, no disease we fear,

And rosy wreaths adorn our brows! No troublesome disease of mind,

Lovely smiling Rose, how sweet Until another year grows kind,

The object where thy beauties meet! And loads again the fruitful vine,

Aurora, with a blushing ray, ,
And brings again our health new wine. And rosy fingers, spreads the day:

The Graces more enchanting show
When rosy blushes paint their snow;

And every pleas'd beholder seeks
GRAPES; OR THE VINTAGE.

The Rose in Cytheræa's cheeks. lo! the vintage now is done!

When pain afflicts, or sickness grieves, And black’ned with th' autumnal Sun

Its juice the drooping heart relieves ; The grapes, gay youths and virgins bear,

And, after death, its odours shed The sweetest product of the year!

A pleasing fragrance o'er the dead; In vats the heavenly load they lay,

And when its withering charms decay, And swift the damsels trip away:

And sinking, fading, die away, The youths alone the wine-press tread,

Triumphant o'er the rage of Time, For wine 's by skilful drunkards made:

It keeps the fragrance of its prime. Mean time the mirthful song they raise,

Come, lyrist, join to sing the birth Io! Bacchus, to thy praise !

Of this sweet offspring of the Earth! And, eying the blest juice, in thought

When Venus from the Ocean's bed Quaff an imaginary draught.

Rais'd o'er the waves her lovely head ; Gaily, through wine, the old advance,

When warlike Pallas sprung from Jove, And doubly tremble in the dance:

Tremendous to the powers above; In fancy'd youth they chaunt and play,

To grace the world, the teeming Earth Forgetful that their locks are grey.

Gave the fragrant infant birth, Through wine, the youth completes his loves ; And “ T'his," she cry'd, “ I this ordain He haunts the silence of the groves:

My favourite, queen of flowers to reign !" Where, stretch'd beneath thị embowering shade, But first th' assembled gods debate He spies some love-inspiring maid :

The future wonder to create: On beds of rosy sweets she lies,

Agreed at length, from Heaven they threw Inviting sleep to close her eyes :

A drop of rich, nectareous dew; Fast by her side his limbs he throws,

A bramble-stem the drop receives, Her hand he presses-breathes his vows;

And strait the Rose adorns the leaves. And cries, “ My love, my soul, comply

The gods to Bacchus gave the flower,
This instant, or, alas ! I die.”

To grace him in the genial hour.
In vain the youth persuasion tries !
In vain !-her tongue at least denies:
Then scorning Death through dull despair,
He storms th' unwilling willing fair ;
Blessing the grapes that could dispense

GROWN YOUNG.
The happy, happy impudence.

When sprightly youths my eyes survey,
I too am young, and I am gay ;

In dance my active body swims,
THE ROSE.

And sudden pinions lift iny limbs.
COME, lyrist, - tune thy harp, and play

Haste, crown, (yba ba, crown my brows Responsive to my rocal lay:

With garlands of the fragrant rose !

ODE LIV.

ODE LIII.

ODE LV.

ODE LVI.

Hence, hoary age!--I now am strong,

No Pythic laurel-wreath I claim, And dauce, a youth ainong the young.

That lifts Ambition into fame: Come then, my friends, the goblet drain! My voice unbidden tunes the lay: Blest juice!-I feel thee in each vein!

Some god impels, and I obey. See! how with active bounds I spring!

Listen, ye groves !--The Muse prepares How strong, and yet, how sweet, I sing !

A sacred song in Phrygian airs; How blest am I! who thus excel

Such as the swan expiring sings,
In pleasing arts of trilling well!

Melodious by Cäyster's springs,
While listening winds in silence hear

And to the gods the music bear.
THE MARK

Celestial Muse! attend, and bring

Thy aid, while I thy Phabus sing : The stately steed expressive bears

To Pha:bus and the Muse belong A mark inprinted on his hairs:

The laurel, lyre, and Delphic song. The turban that adorns the brows

Begin, begin the lofty strain ! Of Asia's sons, the Parthian shows :

How Phæbus lov'd, but lov'd in vain; And marks betray the lover's heart,

How Daphne fed his guilty fame, Deeply engravd by Cupid's dart :

And scorn'd a god that offir'd shame. I plainly read them in his eyes,

With glorious pride his vows she hears ; That look too foolish, or too wise.

And Heaven, indulgent to her prayers,
To laurel chang'd the nyinph, and gave

Her foliage to reward the brave.
ALAS! the powers of life decay!

Ah! how, on wings of Love convey'd, My hairs are fall'n, or chang'd to grey!

He few to clasp the panting maid ! The smiling bloom, and youthful grace,

Now, now o'ertakes !—but Heaven deceives Is banish'd from my faded face!

His hope he seizes only leaves. Thus man beholds, with weeping eyes,

Why fires my raptur'd breast ? ah! why, Himself half-dead before he dies.

Ah! whither strives my soul to fly? For this, and for the grave, I fear,

I feel the pleasing frenzy strong, And pour the never-ceasing tear!

Impulsive to some nobler song: A dreadful prospect strikes my eye;

Let, let the wanton fancy play; I soon must sicken, soon must die.

But guide it, lest it devious stray. For this the mournful groan I shed;

But oh! in vain, my Muse denies I dread-alas! the hour I dread!

Her aid, a slave to lovely eyes. What eye can stedfastly survey

Suffice it to rehearse the pains Death, and its dark tremendous way?

Of bleeding nymphs, and dying swains; For soon as Fate has clos'd our eyes,

Nor dare to wield the shafts of Love, Man dies-for ever, ever dies !

That wound the gods, and conquer Jova All pale, all senseless in the urn!

I yield! adieu the lofty strain !
Never, ah! never to return.

I am Anacreon once again :
Again the melting song I play,
Attemper'd to the vocal lay:

See! see ! how with attentive cars
TO APOLLO.

The youths imbibe the nectar'd airs !
Oxce more, not uninspir'd, the string

And quaff, in lowery shades reclin'd, I waken, and spoutancous sing :

My precepts, to regale the mind.

ODE LXIV.