Now ripen'd by the genial sun,
The grapes are glean'd; the sports begun.
See youths and smiling virgins bear1
The purple produce of the year;
In vats the luscious burden lies,
And home the modest maiden hies:
For joyous youths alone remain,
With blood-red juice their limbs to stain,2
To crush the cluster's bloomy pride,
And revel in the crimson tide.
Then loud they raise the vintage hymn,
When foaming o'er the vessel's brim
They view the joy-inspiring juice,
Which Bacchus sends them for their use.
Should hoary age inhale the draught,
His youth renew'd, at least in thought,
His tott'ring, trembling limbs advance,
And try the long-forgotten dance.
But when the youth its influence feels,
When wine prevails, and reason reels;
When wandering through the lonely grove
His heart beats high with hopes of love;
1 Fair maids and blooming youths, that smiling bear, The purple product of th' autumnal year.-Pope.
2 We are informed by travellers that the ancient custom of treading the grapes is still practised in many of the wine countries. Matthews, in his Diary of an Invalid,' has given us a full description of this disgusting process, which he witnessed in Portugal. After the juice is crushed out it is put into vats to ferment itself fine, during which process all impurities are carefully removed. It may however be proper to mention, that of late years wine-presses have come into more general use.
If there, beneath the secret shade,
He chance to spy some lovely maid,
Who, press'd by sleep's invading pow'r,
Lies slumb'ring midst the leafy bower,
Herself the fairest, frailest flower,-
Before the startled maid can rouse
He breathes his hasty, burning vows,
And while his breast with Bacchus glows,
His lawless love he dares propose.
In vain the angry fair denies,
He better reads her tell-tale eyes;
And sure of victory ere 'tis won,
His eager suit he urges on;
And when his soft persuasion fails,
Rude, boisterous Bacchus oft prevails:
And thus the wanton god decoys
The youth to wild intemperate joys.
THOU, my friend, shalt sweep the string,
I, in softest strains will sing,
While its fragrance round us flows,
The queen of flowers-the lovely rose.
Its perfumed breath ascends the skies
On every gentle gale that sighs:
Its sweets descend to earth again,
Alike beloved by gods and men.
When Spring awakes the slumbering flowers,
And music breathes amidst the bowers,
1 This ode will be understood by supposing that Anacreon while celebrating a rose, requests a lyrist to accompany his voice.
Thee, darling gem, the Graces wear
Entwined amid their flowing hair;
And rosy wreaths alone may dress
The queen of love and loveliness.
In every song and fable known1
The Muses claim thee as their own.
Thou bidd'st thy blooming sweetness blow
In thorny paths of pain and woe.
But, oh! what joy, when bless'd we rove
Through rosy bowers, and dream of love;
While bliss on every breeze is borne,
To pluck the rose without the thorn;
With gentlest touch its leaves to press,
And raise it to our soft caress!
O! thou art still the poet's theme,
And thee a welcome guest we deem,
1 The editor of an ingenious little edition of this author observes: Did Anacreon anticipate the beautiful fable of the rose Sultana of the Nightingale,' so justly a favorite with later eastern poets?
All the country is now full of nightingales, whose amours with roses is an Arabian fable, as well known here as any part of Ovid amongst us.'-Lady Montague's Letters.
For well may maids of Helle deem
That this can be no earthly flower,
Which mocks the tempest's withering hour,
And buds unshelter'd by a bower;
Nor droops, though Spring refuse her shower,
Nor woos the summer beam:
To it the livelong night there sings
A bird unseen, but not remote :
Invisible his airy wings,
But soft as harp that Houri strings
His long entrancing note!
It were the bulbul; but his throat,
Though mournful, pours not such a strain :
For they who listen cannot leave
The spot, but linger there and grieve
As if they loved in vain !-Bride of Abydos.
The reader will, I trust, pardon the length of this extract, on account of its enchanting beauty.
To grace our feasts and deck our hair,
When Bacchus bids us banish care.
E'en Nature does thy beauties prize,
She steals thy tints to paint the skies;
For rosy-finger'd is the morn
With which the crimson veil is drawn.
The lovely nymphs we always deck
With rosy arms and rosy neck,
And roseate tints are ever seen
To bloom the cheeks of beauty's queen.
Its power to soothe the pangs of pain1
Physicians try, nor try in vain;
And e'en when life and hope is fled
Its deathless scent embalms the dead:
For, though its withering charms decay,
And, one by one, all fade away,
Its grateful smell the rose retains,
And redolent of youth remains.2
But, lyrist, let it next be sung
From whence this precious treasure sprung―
When first from Ocean's dewy spray
Fair Venus rose to upper day;
When, fearful to the powers above,
The armed Pallas sprung from Jove;
'Twas then they say the jealous earth
First gave the lovely stranger birth.
A drop of pure nectareous dew
From heaven the bless'd immortals threw ;
Awhile it trembled on the thorn,
And then the lovely rose was born.
1 In Anacreon's time roses were frequently used medi
2 And redolent of joy and youth
To breathe a second spring.
Gray's ode to Eton College.
To Bacchus they the flower assign,
And roses still his brows entwine.
WHILST I view the youthful throng,
Fancy whispers I am young;
To the merry dance I fly,
Who so gay, so brisk as I?
Haste, Cybele, bring me flowers,
Bring sweet roses from the bowers;
Quick a graceful garland twine,
Youthful vigor still is mine.
Hateful, hoary age, away!
Let me sport with striplings gay;
Bring the bright autumnal bowl-
Age can ne'er subdue the soul.
Still I raise the cheerful strain,
Still the brimming bowl I drain ;
Still, with native humor gay,
Sport the happy hours away!
ODE LV.-THE LOVER'S MARK.
THE Courser bears a brand of fire,
To mark his owner, or his sire;
The turban, twisted round his brows,'
The fiery foreign Parthian shows;
1 The tiara worn by the ancient Parthians resembled the modern turban. Addison has translated from Dionysius the following description of the situation and manners of this ancient people:
Beyond the Caspian straits those realms extend,
Where circling bows the martial Parthians bend.
|