Then why, when life's short scene is o'er,
Anoint a cold unconscious stone? 1
Why vainly rich libations pour,

Or call my ghost with useless moan?

Nay, rather, friends, anoint me now,
While life remains, and fate is kind;
With rosy garlands crown my brow,
And go, my lovely fair one find.

My cares I'll drown in pleasure's tide,
Before my wand'ring spirit go
Where unsubstantial spectres glide,

And dance in dismal shades below."

1 The custom among the ancients of pouring sweet unguents on the tombs of their deceased friends, and crowning them with chaplets of flowers, is well known. The eastern nations are still remarkable for the careful and affectionate attention they bestow on their departed relatives.

The Turkish burying-ground stands on the slope of the hill, at a small distance from the town, near that of the Jews, and is encircled by a deep grove of cypress trees. No guard or shade around a cemetery can be so suitable as that of this noble tree with its waveless and mournful foliage, it looks the very emblem of mortality. The orientals love that every thing should be sad and impressive round the abodes of their dead, which they never approach but with the deepest reverence; and they often sit for hours in their kiosques on the Bosphorus, gazing with mournful pleasure on the shores of Asia, where the ashes of their fathers are laid.'-Carne's Letters from the East, p. 65.

2 It seems not a little remarkable that the ancients, amid all their wild and extravagant fancies, never affected the skies; or, in other words, that they contented themselves with an elysium in the infernal regions, assigning the heavens above them to their gods and demi-gods alone. In this, as in many other respects, Christianity has enlarged our ideas, and exalted our hopes beyond the most daring conceptions of the heathen world.

ODE V.-ON THE ROSE.1

WITH sparkling wine sweet roses join,
"Twill make the nectar'd draught divine;
Let mirth and laughter rule the hour,
While roses, pluck'd from Love's own bower,
Around our moisten'd temples twine,
And add fresh fragrance to the wine.
O, lovely rose! to thee I sing,
Thou sweetest, fairest child of spring!
O thou art dear to all the gods,
The darling of their bless'd abodes.
Thy breathing buds and blossoms fair
Entwine young Cupid's golden hair,
When gaily dancing, hand in hand,
He joins the Graces' lovely band.
Then bring fresh garlands, crown my brows,
And while thus joyous, I carouse,
Admitted, Bacchus, to thy shrine,
Thy praise I'll sing in hymns divine;
Or, thick with rosy chaplets crown'd,
With Chloe dance a sprightly round,
Whose snowy bosom softly swells,
And tales of tender transport tells.

1 Among the ancients, especially the Grecians, the rose was particularly esteemed. It was always introduced at entertainments; and it was customary on such occasions to employ flowers and perfumes, not merely for pleasure, but because they imagined their odors prevented the intoxicating effects of wine. With the Romans they were held in equal estimation, as appears from the following passage:

Here pour your wines, your odors shed;
Bring forth the rose's short-lived flower,

While Fate yet spins thy mortal thread,

While youth and fortune give th' indulgent hour.

Francis' Horace, b. ii, ode 3.

ODE VI. THE BANQUET.

WITH glowing wreaths of roses crown'd,
We'll pass the cheerful goblet round;
But with no squeamish, modest sips.
The cup shall kiss our thirsty lips.
And, see, to grace the festive hour,
The maiden seeks our shelter'd bower,'
Whose pretty, slender foot well suits
The music of the soft-toned lutes;
While ivy-wreath'd, her thyrsus fair2
She rustles through the yielding air.
And hark! a fair-hair'd youth begins,3
And as he wakes the warbling strings
His liquid voice breathes odors round,
And mingles with the melting sound.
With golden locks, young Cupid see,
And Bacchus, young and fair as he ;

:

1 A custom seems to be here alluded to which is still common in Turkey at the entertainments of persons of consequence dancing girls, called almas, are hired to amuse the company by their performances.

2 The thyrsus was a spear encircled with ivy, and sometimes with vine-leaves, and was carried by those who attended the feasts in honor of Bacchus.

3 The following extract may perhaps elucidate this pas sage: The summer is already far advanced in this part of the world; and, for some miles round Adrianople, the whole ground is laid out in gardens, and the banks of the rivers are set with rows of fruit-trees, under which all the most considerable Turks divert themselves every evening; not with walking, that is not one of their pleasures; but a set party of them choose out a green spot, where the shade is very thick, and there they spread a carpet, on which they sit drinking their coffee, and are generally attended by some slave with a fine voice, or that plays on some instrument.'-Lady Montague's Letters. Letter to Mr. Pope from Adrianople, April 1st, 1717.

With these is lovely Venus too,

Who hastes to join the sportive crew;
While we old men can scarce refrain
To live the life we loved again.

6

ODE VII.-ON CUPID.'

CUPID once, with staff in hand
(A slender hyacinthine wand),
Slow walking with a tottering pace,
Defied me to the rapid race.
Away we flew o'er flood and fell,
O'er craggy rock and bushy dell,
Till, hastening on with swiftest speed,
A serpent stung me; then indeed 2
My heart forgot its wonted play;
I fainted-sunk-and died away.
The urchin laugh'd at my disgrace,

And while his pinions fann'd my face,

My friend,' he cried,' you clearly prove

That you are not a match for Love!'

1 As commentators are by no means agreed either as to the text or meaning of this ode, I have given it the turn which I conceived most agreeable to the genius and style of the author. By a pleasing allegory, he seems to intimate, that under whatever disguise love may appear, his power is equally certain and resistless.

2 It is observed by Madame Dacier that his being stung by a serpent was a punishment for his insensibility and presumption.

ODE VIII.-ON HIS DREAM.'

PEACEFUL slumbering through the night,
On a purple couch reclined,
Dreams of joy and visions bright
Bacchus sent to charm my mind.

Methought I join'd in rapid race
With flying nymphs-a sportive crew,
And urging on with swiftest pace,
Still kept the lovely game in view.

While youths, as young Lyæus fair,2
With jealous hate, and envy stung,
Who saw my joy, but could not share,
Reviled me as I pass'd along.

A kiss I claim'd-my promised prize;
But as on pleasure's brink I seem,
The vision fled my cheated eyes:

I woke and lo! 'twas all a dream!

Then, lonely, sad, and angry too,3

To find my high-raised hopes were vain,

1 For the different metre of this ode, and of some others in the collection, I have only to remark that I have deviated from the usual Anacreontic measure for the sake of variety.

2 Lyæus is a name given to Bacchus. It is derived from a Greek verb, signifying to loosen or free, and is, from the cir cumstance of wine freeing the mind from anxiety, appropriately assigned to him.

3 There is a similar passage in one of Ovid's epistles; in that from Sappho to Phaon, so beautifully translated by Pope. I have transcribed it, in order that the reader may have the pleasure of comparing them :

Oh, night, more pleasing than the brightest day,
When fancy gives what absence takes away,