ODES OF ANACREON.

ODE I.-ON HIS LYRE.'

WHILE I Sweep the sounding string,
While th' Atrida's praise I sing,2
Victors on the Trojan plain,
Or to Cadmus raise the strain,
Hark! in soft and whisper'd sighs,
Love's sweet notes the shell replies.
Late I strung my harp anew,3
Changed the strings—the subject too ;-
Loud I sung Alcides' toils,

Still the lyre my labor foils;

Still with love's sweet silver sounds

Every martial theme confounds.4

1 As love is the prevailing subject of the poet's muse, this beautiful little ode is with great propriety placed at the commencement of most editions.

2 Agamemnon and Menelaus, the sons of Atreus, who were the chief commanders at the siege of Troy. By the Atridæ is meant the Trojan, and by Cadmus, the Theban war.

3 It was common among the ancient poets to say that they had new-strung their lyre,' when about to celebrate any important subject, or extraordinary event.

4 In order to understand this passage clearly, we must imagine Anacreon singing and playing on his lyre, which, instead of returning sounds suitable to the lofty subject of his song, perversely warbles Love's sweet silver sounds.' The original is here beautifully expressive, signifying not

ANAC.

A

Farewell! heroes, chiefs and kings,
Nought but love will suit my strings.

ODE II.-ON WOMEN.1

POINTED horns, the dread of foes,
Nature on the bull bestows;
Horny hoofs the horse defend,
Swift-wing'd feet the hare befriend;
Lions' gaping jaws disclose

Dreadful teeth in grinning rows;
Wings to birds her care supplied,

Finny fishes swim the tide ;

Nobler gifts to man assign'd,

Courage firm, and strength of mind.”

merely to send forth a wrong note, but one directly contrary to that intended to be produced. The lyre is said to have been made of the shell of the tortoise, and its invention is by some ascribed to Anacreon.

1 The sentiment of this little ode is natural and beautiful, and it has been imitated by many succeeding writers. The first of modern poets, Lord Byron, has in the following beautiful passage a similar idea to that contained in the latter part of it:

Oh, too convincing, dangerously dear!

In woman's eye, the unanswerable tear!
That weapon of her weakness she can wield

To save-subdue-at once her spear and shield.

Corsair, Canto ii. 15.

2 The single word in the original thus translated, usually signifies wisdom or prudence; but surely so polite a poet as Anacreon would not have denied these important qualities to the ladies. It may likewise be rendered, as in the text, Courage, or strength of mind;' but in neither sense may we arrogate to ourselves the title of the exclusives,' so long as the deeds and daring of the softer sex live in the Records of Woman, and are related by such a champion as Mrs. He

mans.

From her then exhausted store
Nought for Woman had she more:
How does Nature prove her care?
Beauty's charms is Woman's share,
Stronger far than warrior's dress
Is her helpless loveliness.
Safety smiles in Beauty's eyes,
She the hostile flame defies:
Fiercest swords submissive fall,-
Lovely Woman conquers all!

ODE III.-CUPID BENIGHTED.'

"TWAS at the solemn midnight hour,
When silence reigns with awful pow'r,
Just when the bright and glittering Bear2
Is yielding to her keeper's care;

When spent with toil, with cares oppress'd,
Man's busy race has sunk to rest,

Sly Cupid, sent by cruel Fate,
Stood loudly knocking at my gate.
'Who's there,' I cried, at this late hour?
Who is it batters thus my door?

Begone! you break my blissful dreams'
But he, on mischief bent, it seems,
With feeble voice and piteous cries
In childish accents thus replies:

1 Longuepierre has observed that this is one of the most beautiful odes in the collection; and it is I think a good proof of the truth of his remark, that after a lapse of more than 2000 years its spirit and meaning are still preserved, and are to be found embodied in a pretty little song, which was a few years ago a popular favorite.

2 The Bear and Boötes, or the Bear-keeper, are two constellations near the North Pole.

'Be not alarm'd, kind sir, 'tis I,
A little wretched, wandering boy.
Pray ope the door-I've lost my way
This moonless night-alone I stray:
I'm stiff with cold, I'm drench'd all o'er ;
For pity's sake, pray ope the door.'
Touch'd with this simple tale of woe,
And little dreaming of a foe,

I rose, lit up my lamp, and straight
Undid the fastenings of the gate;
And there indeed a boy I spied,
With bow and quiver at his side.
Wings too he wore—a strange attire!
My guest I seated near the fire,
And while the blazing faggots shine,
I chafed his little hands in mine.
His dank and dripping locks I wrung,
That down his shoulders loosely hung.
Soon as his cheeks began to glow,
'Come now,' he cries, let's try this bow;
For much I fear, this rainy night,
The wet and damp have spoil'd it quite.'
That instant twang'd the sounding string,
Loud as the whizzing gad-fly's wing:
Too truly aim'd, the fatal dart

My bosom pierced, with painful smart.'
Up sprung the boy with laughing eyes,

And, Wish me joy, mine host!' he cries.

My bow is sound in ev'ry part;

Thou'lt find the arrow in thy heart.'

1 In the original it is pierced through the middle of my liver.' The ancients, as may be proved by numerous passages, considered the liver to be the seat of the affections; and it is reasonable to suppose that the sympathy existing between this organ and the brain was as well known to them as it is to physicians in the present day.

ODE IV.-ON HIMSELF.

On this flowery couch reclining,
Thick with leaves of myrtle strew'd,'
Every graver care resigning,

I will drink in joyous mood.

His tunic shorten'd-standing near me,
His waist with rushy girdle bound,
With rosy wine let Cupid cheer me,
And serve the golden goblet round.

For, ah! with what unwearied pace2
The ceaseless wheel of life runs on!
Just like the chariot's rapid race,

How swift the course, how quickly run!

Yet thus, alas! our moments fly;
Thus pass our fleeting years away;
And soon shall we neglected lie,
A little dust-a lump of clay!

1 Madame Dacier observes that the ancients were fond of reposing on leaves of fragrant herbs and flowers, which afforded them a soft and pleasant couch, and at the same time regaled their senses with their agreeable odors. A passion for perfumes and flowers seems to be common to all oriental nations.

2 If, according to the ancient proverb, it is commendable to receive instruction even from an enemy, surely we should not disdain to be made wiser by a heathen. These lines contain a fine moral sentiment; and the Christian reader, excited by higher motives, will seek to improve that time which, ceaseless in its progress, and irrevocable in its flight, is given to him for nobler purposes than to be wasted in trifling pur suits or sensual indulgences.