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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Odes of Anacreon
+
+Author: Thomas Moore
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2011 [EBook #38230]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODES OF ANACREON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by Case Western Reserve University Preservation Department
+Digital Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    THE ODES OF ANACREON.
+
+
+    'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon
+    Delevit ætas.'          _Hor._
+
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    THE ODES OF ANACREON.
+
+    TRANSLATED BY THOMAS MOORE.
+
+    WITH FIFTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIVE DESIGNS BY GIRODET DE ROUSSY.
+
+    _NOW FIRST PRODUCED IN ENGLAND._
+
+    LONDON:
+    JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON:
+    STRANGEWAYS AND WALDEN, PRINTERS,
+    Castle St. Leicester Sq.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
+
+
+Amongst the innumerable translators of Anacreon, there was one--a
+Frenchman by birth--who was both an illustrious painter and a literary
+enthusiast. Girodet de Roussy, inspired by a genius altogether Greek in
+its character, has translated Anacreon better by his pencil than he
+could have been translated by words. One might fancy that his designs
+had been executed under Anacreon's own eye by some Greek artist, who had
+himself witnessed that soft and voluptuous existence, where song and
+pleasure are one.
+
+Seldom indeed have chasteness of execution and voluptuousness of
+character been so curiously and indissolubly blended. Seldom has a
+modern artist so happily caught the spirit of an ancient poet. We seem
+to be transported, as in a dream, to the vines, and orange-groves, and
+cloudless skies of Greece, and the wearied spirit abandons itself for a
+while to the soft influences of the azure heaven, the countless
+luxuriance of roses, the undulating forms of the fair girls dancing in
+the shade, while youthful attendants brim the beaker with wine. Under
+such influences we remember that youth, and love, and mirth are
+immortal, and we say with Horace,--
+
+'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon Delevit ætas.'[1]
+
+In that close wrestle of the genius that imitates with the genius that
+creates, Girodet alone came out from the trial successfully. He has
+shown himself the rival of Anacreon in grace, in _abandon_, in
+_naïveté_. He has succeeded in depicting his poet's theme with equal
+elegance and delicacy. Loving with a real love those old Greek songs, he
+has displayed them in living beauty before our eyes in fifty-four
+exquisite drawings. To attempt such a masterpiece required a poet's as
+well as a painter's skill; and Girodet was both a painter and a poet.
+
+In examining these compositions, one cannot abstain from a certain kind
+of surprise: all the odes of Anacreon revolve upon two or three central
+ideas, expressed in a manner full of grace, unquestionably, but still
+always the same ideas. The artist, while not deviating from the narrow
+circle traced for him by the poet, shows a fecundity and variety that
+are truly marvellous--that astonish and enchant us at the same time. The
+nobility, elegance, and wealth of accessories that prevail throughout
+the whole series might, as we have already hinted, lead us to suppose
+that we owed them to one of the famous artists that Greece produced: the
+painter and the poet seem to have been born under one heaven, and
+informed with one soul.
+
+The manners of the time in which Anacreon lived permitted him to say
+many things which, in their crudity, might offend our modern taste.
+Girodet is not less voluptuous than Anacreon; but he always maintains
+that grace and delicacy which add so great a charm to the voluptuous:
+nowhere in his animated panorama is sight or sense shocked.
+
+These designs originally accompanied a translation of the Odes of
+Anacreon, made by the painter himself and published shortly after his
+death. Some small photographs of them on a greatly reduced scale
+appeared in 1864, in an exquisite little edition of the original Greek,
+from the press of Firmin Didot, at the almost prohibitive price of Two
+Pounds. The present reproductions are on a scale more proportionate with
+the originals, and constitute the first appearance of Girodet's designs
+in England, where, we feel assured, they will be appreciated as they
+deserve by all true lovers of classical art.
+
+The English verse-translation of Moore has been chosen to accompany
+them, because, though it has often been objected to by the learned for
+its imperfect scholarship, it seemed to us to be most in harmony with
+the real spirit of the great French painter, and of the old Greek poet
+himself.
+
+    _Oct. 25, 1869._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] 'Time cannot raze Anacreon's name, Nor prey upon his youthful
+strains.'
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+_FRONTISPIECE_--THE APOTHEOSIS OF ANACREON.
+
+PAGE
+
+THE LYRE OF ANACREON 15
+
+NATURE'S GIFT TO WOMAN 19
+
+CUPID BELATED 23
+
+ANACREON TENDING CUPID 27
+
+CUPID TRIES HIS BOW 31
+
+LOVE AND WINE 35
+
+THE ROSE 39
+
+THE GENIUS OF FESTIVITY 43
+
+A RACE WITH CUPID 47
+
+ANACREON'S DREAM 51
+
+THE DOVE 55
+
+THE GIFT OF VENUS 59
+
+THE DOVE TENDED BY ANACREON 63
+
+THE IMAGE OF CUPID 67
+
+AGE AND PLEASURE 71
+
+THE CONFLICT WITH LOVE 75
+
+THE SURRENDER 79
+
+THE WREATH OF ROSES 83
+
+THE VICTORY OF THE EYE 87
+
+THE CUP 91
+
+CUPID DISARMED 95
+
+THE MIRROR 99
+
+THE CHAPLET OF FLOWERS 103
+
+THE TRUE WEALTH 107
+
+THE POWER OF WINE 111
+
+SONG AND DANCE 115
+
+THE PORTRAIT 119
+
+BATHYLLUS 123
+
+THE RANSOM OF CUPID 127
+
+THE FAIR FUGITIVE 131
+
+THE LILY AND THE ROSE 135
+
+EUROPA AND THE BULL 139
+
+ANACREON DEFYING THE PHILOSOPHER 143
+
+THE GRACES AND SPRING 147
+
+THE SUMMONS TO FESTIVITY 151
+
+THE BOWL OF WINE 155
+
+VOWS TO VENUS 159
+
+CUPID STUNG 163
+
+THE DANCE OF MIRTH 167
+
+THE FRONTLET OF HYACINTH 171
+
+CAUGHT BY LOVE 175
+
+THE LEMNIAN CAVE 179
+
+THE EVERGREEN HEART 183
+
+THE BLUSHING YEAR 187
+
+THE QUEEN OF LOVE 191
+
+THE ROSE 195
+
+YOUTH AND DANCE 199
+
+THE LOVER'S EYES 203
+
+SPRING 207
+
+VISION OF THE TEIAN BARD 211
+
+THE HARP 215
+
+BACCHANTS 219
+
+CUPID IN THE GOBLET 223
+
+
+
+
+_ODE I._
+
+
+    I often wish this languid lyre,
+    This warbler of my soul's desire,
+    Could raise the breath of song sublime,
+    To men of fame in former time.
+    But when the soaring theme I try,
+    Along the chords my numbers die,
+    And whisper, with dissolving tone,
+    'Our sighs are given to love alone!'
+    Indignant at the feeble lay,
+    I tore the panting chords away,
+    Attuned them to a nobler swell,
+    And struck again the breathing shell;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    In all the glow of epic fire,
+    To Hercules I wake the lyre!
+    But still its fainting sighs repeat,
+    'The tale of love alone is sweet!'
+    Then fare thee well, seductive dream,
+    That madest me follow Glory's theme;
+    For thou my lyre, and thou my heart,
+    Shall never more in spirit part;
+    And thou the flame shalt feel as well
+    As thou the flame shalt sweetly tell.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE II._
+
+
+    To all that breathe the airs of heaven,
+    Some boon of strength has Nature given.
+    When the majestic bull was born,
+    She fenced his brow with wreathèd horn.
+    She arm'd the courser's foot of air,
+    And wing'd with speed the panting hare.
+    She gave the lion fangs of terror,
+    And, on the ocean's crystal mirror,
+    Taught the unnumber'd scaly throng
+    To trace their liquid path along;
+    While for the umbrage of the grove,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    She plumed the warbling bird of love.
+    To man she gave the flame refined,
+    The spark of heaven--a thinking mind!
+    And had she no surpassing treasure,
+    For thee, oh woman! child of pleasure?
+    She gave thee beauty--shaft of eyes,
+    That every shaft of war outflies!
+    She gave thee beauty--blush of fire,
+    That bids the flames of war retire!
+    Woman! be fair, we must adore thee;
+    Smile, and a world is weak before thee!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE III._
+
+
+    'Twas noon of night, when round the pole
+    The sullen Bear is seen to roll;
+    And mortals, wearied with the day,
+    Are slumbering all their cares away;
+    An infant, at that dreary hour,
+    Came weeping to my silent bower,
+    And waked me with a piteous prayer,
+    To save him from the midnight air!
+    'And who art thou,' I waking cry,
+    'That bidd'st my blissful visions fly?'
+    'O gentle sire!' the infant said,
+    'In pity take me to thy shed;
+    Nor fear deceit: a lonely child
+    I wander o'er the gloomy wild.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Chill drops the rain, and not a ray
+    Illumes the drear and misty way!'
+    I hear the baby's tale of woe;
+    I hear the bitter night-winds blow;
+    And sighing for his piteous fate,
+    I trimm'd my lamp and oped the gate.
+    'Twas Love! the little wandering sprite,
+    His pinion sparkled through the night!
+    I knew him by his bow and dart;
+    I knew him by my fluttering heart!
+    I take him in, and fondly raise
+    The dying embers' cheering blaze;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Press from his dank and clinging hair
+    The crystals of the freezing air,
+    And in my hand and bosom hold
+    His little fingers thrilling cold.
+    And now the embers' genial ray
+    Had warm'd his anxious fears away:
+    'I pray thee,' said the wanton child,
+    (My bosom trembled as he smiled,)
+    'I pray thee let me try my bow,
+    For through the rain I've wander'd so,
+    That much I fear the ceaseless shower
+    Has injured its elastic power.'
+    The fatal bow the urchin drew;
+    Swift from the string the arrow flew;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Oh! swift it flew as glancing flame
+    And to my very soul it came!
+    'Fare thee well,' I heard him say,
+    As laughing wild he wing'd away:
+    'Fare thee well, for now I know
+    The rain has not relax'd my bow;
+    It still can send a maddening dart,
+    As thou shalt own with all thy heart!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE IV._
+
+
+    Strew me a breathing bed of leaves,
+    Where lotos with the myrtle weaves;
+    And while in luxury's dream I sink,
+    Let me the balm of Bacchus drink!
+    In this delicious hour of joy,
+    Young Love shall be my goblet-boy;
+    Folding his little golden vest,
+    With cinctures, round his snowy breast,
+    Himself shall hover by my side,
+    And minister the racy tide!
+    Swift as the wheels that kindling roll,
+    Our life is hurrying to the goal:
+    A scanty dust, to feed the wind,
+    Is all the trace 'twill leave behind.
+    Why do we shed the rose's bloom
+    Upon the cold insensate tomb?
+    Can flowery breeze, or odour's breath,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Affect the slumbering chill of death?
+    No, no; I ask no balm to steep
+    With fragrant tears my bed of sleep:
+    But now, while every pulse is glowing,
+    Now let me breathe the balsam flowing;
+    Now let the rose, with blush of fire,
+    Upon my brow its scent expire;
+    And bring the nymph with floating eye,--
+    Oh! she will teach me how to die!
+    Yes, Cupid! ere my soul retire,
+    To join the blest elysian choir,
+    With wine, and love, and blisses dear,
+    I'll make my own elysium here!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE V._
+
+
+    Buds of roses, virgin flowers,
+    Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers,
+    In the bowl of Bacchus steep,
+    Till with crimson drops they weep!
+    Twine the rose, the garland twine,
+    Every leaf distilling wine;
+    Drink and smile, and learn to think
+    That we were born to smile and drink.
+    Rose! thou art the sweetest flower
+    That ever drank the amber shower;
+    Rose! thou art the fondest child
+    Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild!
+    E'en the gods, who walk the sky,
+    Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
+    Cupid too, in Paphian shades,
+    His hair with rosy fillet braids,
+    When with the blushing naked Graces,
+    The wanton winding dance he traces.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Then bring me showers of roses, bring,
+    And shed them round me while I sing:
+    Great Bacchus! in thy hallow'd shade,
+    With some celestial, glowing maid,
+    While gales of roses round me rise,
+    In perfume, sweeten'd by her sighs,
+    I'll bill and twine in airy dance,
+    Commingling soul with every glance!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VI._
+
+
+    While our rosy fillets shed
+    Blushes o'er each fervid head,
+    With many a cup and many a smile
+    The festal moments we beguile.
+    And while the harp, impassion'd, flings
+    Tuneful rapture from the strings,
+    Some airy nymph, with fluent limbs,
+    Through the dance luxuriant swims,
+    Waving, in her snowy hand,
+    The leafy Bacchanalian wand,
+    Which, as the tripping wanton flies,
+    Shakes its tresses to her sighs;
+    A youth the while, with loosen'd hair,
+    Floating on the listless air,
+    Sings to the wild harp's tender tone,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    A tale of woes, alas! his own;
+    And then what nectar in his sigh,
+    As o'er his lip the murmurs die!
+    Surely never yet has been
+    So divine, so blest a scene!
+    Has Cupid left the starry sphere,
+    To wave his golden tresses here?
+    Oh yes! and Venus, queen of wiles,
+    And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles,
+    All, all are here, to hail with me
+    The genius of festivity!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VII._
+
+
+    Arm'd with hyacinthine rod,
+    (Arms enough for such a god,)
+    Cupid bade me wing my pace,
+    And try with him the rapid race,
+    O'er the wild torrent, rude and deep.
+    By tangled brake and pendent steep,
+    With weary foot I panting flew,
+    My brow was chill with drops of dew.
+    And now my soul, exhausted, dying,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    To my lip was faintly flying;
+    And now I thought the spark had fled,
+    When Cupid hover'd o'er my head,
+    And fanning light his breezy plume,
+    Recall'd me from my languid gloom;
+    Then said, in accents half-reproving,
+    'Why hast thou been a foe to loving?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VIII._
+
+
+    'Twas night, and many a circling bowl
+    Had deeply warmed my swimming soul;
+    As lull'd in slumber I was laid,
+    Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd!
+    With virgins blooming as the dawn,
+    I seem'd to trace the opening lawn;
+    Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,
+    We flew, and sported as we flew!
+    Some ruddy striplings, young and sleek,
+    With blush of Bacchus on their cheek,
+    Saw me trip the flowery wild
+    With dimpled girls, and slily smiled;
+    Smiled indeed with wanton glee,
+    But, ah! 'twas plain they envied me.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And still I flew--and now I caught
+    The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
+    To kiss--when all my dream of joys,
+    Dimpled girls and ruddy boys,
+    All were gone! 'Alas!' I said,
+    Sighing for the illusions fled,
+    'Sleep! again my joys restore,
+    Oh! let me dream them o'er and o'er!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE IX._
+
+
+    Tell me, why, my sweetest dove,
+    Thus your humid pinions move,
+    Shedding through the air in showers
+    Essence of the balmiest flowers?
+    Tell me whither, whence you rove,
+    Tell me all, my sweetest dove.--
+    Curious stranger! I belong
+    To the bard of Teian song:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    With his mandate now I fly
+    To the nymph of azure eye;
+    Ah! that eye has madden'd many,
+    But the poet more than any!
+    Venus, for a hymn of love,
+    Warbled in her votive grove,
+    ('Twas in sooth a gentle lay,)
+    Gave me to the bard away.
+    See me now his faithful minion,
+    Thus with softly-gliding pinion,
+    To his lovely girl I bear
+    Songs of passion through the air.
+    Oft he blandly whispers me,
+    'Soon, my bird, I'll set you free.'
+    But in vain he'll bid me fly,
+    I shall serve him till I die.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Never could my plumes sustain
+    Ruffling winds and chilling rain,
+    O'er the plains, or in the dell,
+    On the mountain's savage swell;
+    Seeking in the desert wood
+    Gloomy shelter, rustic food.
+    Now I lead a life of ease,
+    Far from such retreats as these;
+    From Anacreon's hand I eat
+    Food delicious, viands sweet;
+    Flutter o'er his goblet's brim,
+    Sip the foamy wine with him.
+    Then I dance and wanton round
+    To the lyre's beguiling sound;
+    Or with gently-fanning wings
+    Shade the minstrel while he sings:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    On his harp then sink in slumbers,
+    Dreaming still of dulcet numbers!
+    This is all--away--away--
+    You have made me waste the day.
+    How I've chatter'd! prating crow
+    Never yet did chatter so.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE X._
+
+
+    '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!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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 XI._
+
+
+    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,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    As onward to the tomb I steal,
+    That still as death approaches 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 XII._
+
+
+    I will; I will; the conflict's past,
+    And I'll consent to love at last.
+    Cupid has long, with smiling art,
+    Invited me to yield my heart;
+    And I have thought that peace of mind
+    Should not be for a smile resign'd;
+    And I've repell'd the tender lure,
+    And hoped my heart should sleep secure.
+    But, slighted in his boasted charms,
+    The angry infant flew to arms;
+    He slung his quiver's golden frame,
+    He took his bow, his shafts of flame,
+    And proudly summon'd me to yield,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Or meet him on the martial field.
+    And what did I unthinking do?
+    I took to arms, undaunted too;
+    Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear,
+    And, like Pelides, smiled at fear.
+    Then (hear it, all you powers above!)
+    I fought with Love! I fought with Love!
+    And now his arrows all were shed
+    And I had just in terrors fled--
+    When heaving an indignant sigh
+    To see me thus unwounded fly,
+    And having now no other dart,
+    He glanced himself into my heart!
+    My heart--alas the luckless day!
+    Received the god, and died away.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield!
+    Thy lord at length is forced to yield.
+    Vain, vain, is every outward care,
+    My foe's within, and triumphs there.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XIII._
+
+
+    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,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let us the festal hours beguile
+    With mantling cup and cordial smile;
+    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 XIV._
+
+
+    Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms,
+    Or tell the tale of Theban arms;
+    With other wars my song shall burn,
+    For other wounds my harp shall mourn.
+    'Twas not the crested warrior's dart,
+    Which drank the current of my heart;
+    Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed,
+    Have made this vanquish'd bosom bleed;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    No--from an eye of liquid blue,
+    A host of quiver'd cupids flew;
+    And now my heart all bleeding lies
+    Beneath this army of the eyes!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XV_.
+
+
+    Grave me a cup with brilliant grace,
+    Deep as the rich and holy vase,
+    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;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Nor any tale of tragic fate,
+    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;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVI._
+
+
+    The Phrygian rock that braves the storm,
+    Was once a weeping matron's form;
+    And Progne, hapless, frantic maid,
+    Is now a swallow in the shade.
+    Oh! that a mirror's form were mine,
+    To sparkle with that smile divine;
+    And like my heart I then should be,
+    Reflecting thee, and only thee!
+    Or were I, love, the robe which flows
+    O'er every charm that secret glows,
+    In many a lucid fold to swim,
+    And cling and grow to every limb!
+    Oh! could I, as the streamlet's wave,
+    Thy warmly-mellowing beauties lave,
+    Or float as perfume on thine hair,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And breathe my soul in fragrance there!
+    I wish I were the zone, that lies
+    Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs!
+    Or like those envious pearls that show
+    So faintly round that neck of snow,
+    Yes, I would be a happy gem,
+    Like them to hang, to fade like them.
+    What more would thy Anacreon be?
+    Oh! anything that touches thee.
+    Nay, sandals for those airy feet--
+    Thus to be press'd by thee were sweet!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVII._
+
+
+    Now the star of day is high,
+    Fly, my girls, in pity fly,
+    Bring me wine in brimming urns,
+    Cool my lip, it burns, it burns!
+    Sunn'd by the meridian fire,
+    Panting, languid I expire!
+    Give me all those humid flowers,
+    Drop them o'er my brow in showers.
+    Scarce a breathing chaplet now
+    Lives upon my feverish brow;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Every dewy rose I wear
+    Sheds its tears and withers there.
+    But for you, my burning mind!
+    Oh! what shelter shall I find?
+    Can the bowl, or floweret's dew,
+    Cool the flame that scorches you?
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVIII._
+
+
+    If hoarded gold possess'd a power
+    To lengthen life's too fleeting hour,
+    And purchase from the land of death
+    A little span, a moment's breath,
+    How I would love the precious ore!
+    And every day should swell my store;
+    That when the Fates would send their minion,
+    To waft me off on shadowy pinion,
+    I might some hours of life obtain,
+    And bribe him back to hell again.
+    But, since we ne'er can charm away
+    The mandate of that awful day,
+    Why do we vainly weep at fate,
+    And sigh for life's uncertain date?
+    The light of gold can ne'er illume
+    The dreary midnight of the tomb!
+    And why should I then pant for treasures?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures;
+    The goblet rich, the board of friends,
+    Whose flowing souls the goblet blends:
+    Mine be the nymph, whose form reposes
+    Seductive on that bed of roses;
+    And oh! be mine the soul's excess,
+    Expiring in her warm caress!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XIX._
+
+
+    When my thirsty soul I steep,
+    Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep.
+    Talk of monarchs! I am then
+    Richest, happiest, first of men;
+    Careless, o'er my cup I sing,
+    Fancy makes me more than king;
+    Gives me wealthy Croesus' store,
+    Can I, can I wish for more?
+    On my velvet couch reclining,
+    Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
+    While my soul dilates with glee,
+    What are kings and crowns to me?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    If before my feet they lay,
+    I would spurn them all away!
+    Arm you, arm you, men of might,
+    Hasten to the sanguine fight;
+    Let me, oh my budding vine,
+    Spill no other blood than thine.
+    Yonder brimming goblet see,
+    That alone shall vanquish me.
+    Oh! I think it sweeter far
+    To fall in banquet than in war!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XX._
+
+
+    When Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,
+    The rosy harbinger of joy,
+    Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,
+    Thaws the winter of our soul;
+    When to the inmost core he glides,
+    And bathes it with his ruby tides,
+    A flow of joy, a lively heat,
+    Fires my brain, and wings my feet;
+    'Tis surely something sweet, I think,
+    Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Sing, sing of love, let music's breath
+    Softly beguile our rapturous death,
+    While, my young Venus, thou and I
+    To the voluptuous cadence die!
+    Then waking from our languid trance,
+    Again we'll sport, again we'll dance.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXI._
+
+
+    Thou, whose soft and rosy hues,
+    Mimic form and soul infuse;
+    Best of painters! come portray
+    The lovely maid that's far away.
+    Far away, my soul! thou art,
+    But I've thy beauties all by heart.
+    Paint her jetty ringlets straying,
+    Silky twine in tendrils playing;
+    And, if painting hath the skill
+    To make the spicy balm distil,
+    Let every little lock exhale
+    A sigh of perfume on the gale.
+    Where her tresses' curly flow
+    Darkles o'er the brow of snow,
+    Let her forehead beam to light,
+    Burnish'd as the ivory bright.
+    Let her eyebrows sweetly rise
+    In jetty arches o'er her eyes,
+    Gently in her crescent gliding,
+    Just commingling, just dividing.
+    But hast thou any sparkles warm,
+    The lightning of her eyes to form?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let them effuse the azure ray
+    With which Minerva's glances play,
+    And give them all that liquid fire
+    That Venus' languid eyes respire.
+    O'er her nose and cheek be shed
+    Flushing white and mellow'd red;
+    Gradual tints, as when there glows
+    In snowy milk the bashful rose.
+    Then her lip, so rich in blisses!
+    Sweet petitioner for kisses!
+    Pouting nest of bland persuasion,
+    Ripely suing Love's invasion.
+    Then beneath the velvet chin,
+    Whose dimple shades a love within,
+    Mould her neck with grace descending.
+    In a heaven of beauty ending;
+    While airy charms, above, below,
+    Sport and flutter on its snow.
+    Now let a floating, lucid veil,
+    Shadow her limbs, but not, conceal;
+    A charm may peep, a hue may beam,
+    And leave the rest to Fancy's dream.
+    Enough--'tis she! 'tis all I seek;
+    It glows, it lives, it soon will speak.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXII._
+
+    And now with all thy pencil's truth,
+    Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth!
+    Let his hair in lapses bright,
+    Fall like streaming rays of light,
+    And there the raven's dye confuse
+    With the yellow sunbeam's hues.
+    Let not the braid, with artful twine,
+    The flowing of his locks confine;
+    But loosen every golden ring,
+    To float upon the breeze's wing,
+    Beneath the front of polished glow.
+    Front as fair as mountain-snow,
+    And guileless as the dews of dawn,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let the majestic brows be drawn,
+    Of ebon dies, enriched by gold,
+    Such as the scaly snakes unfold.
+    Mingle in his jetty glances,
+    Power that awes, and love that trances;
+    Steal from Venus bland desire,
+    Steal from Mars the look of fire,
+    Blend them in such expression here,
+    That we by turns may hope and fear!
+    Now from the sunny apple seek
+    The velvet down that spreads his cheek;
+    And there let Beauty's rosy ray
+    In flying blushes richly play;
+    Blushes, of that celestial flame
+    Which lights the cheek of virgin shame.
+    Then for his lips, that ripely gem--
+    But let thy mind imagine them!
+    Paint, where the ruby cell uncloses,
+    Persuasion sleeping upon roses;
+    And give his lip that speaking air,
+    As if a word was hovering there!
+    His neck of ivory splendour trace,
+    Moulded with soft but manly grace;
+    Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy,
+    Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy.
+    Give him the winged Hermes' hand.
+    With which he waves his snaky wand:
+    Let Bacchus then the breast supply,
+    And Leda's son the sinewy thigh.
+    But oh! suffuse his limbs of fire
+    With all that glow of young desire,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Which kindles, when the wishful sigh
+    Steals from the heart, unconscious why.
+    Thy pencil, though divinely bright,
+    Is envious of the eye's delight,
+    Or its enamoured touch would shew
+    His shoulder, fair as sunless snow,
+    Which now in veiling shadow lies,
+    Removed from all but Fancy's eyes,
+    Now, for his feet--but hold--forbear--
+    I see a godlike portrait there;
+    So like Bathyllus! sure there's none
+    So like Bathyllus but the Sun!
+    Oh! let this pictured god be mine,
+    And keep the boy for Samos' shrine;
+    Phoebus shall then Bathyllus be,
+    Bathyllus then the deity!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIII._
+
+
+    One day, the Muses twined the hands
+    Of baby Love, with flowery bands;
+    And to celestial Beauty gave
+    The captive infant as her slave.
+    His mother comes with many a toy,
+    To ransom her beloved boy;
+    His mother sues, but all in vain!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    He ne'er will leave his chains again.
+    Nay, should they take his chains away,
+    The little captive still would stay.
+    'If this,' he cries, 'a bondage be,
+    Who could wish for liberty?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIV._
+
+
+    Fly not thus my brow of snow,
+    Lovely wanton! fly not so.
+    Though the wane of age is mine,
+    Though the brilliant flush is thine,
+    Still I'm doom'd to sigh for thee,
+    Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me!
+    See, in yonder flowery braid,
+    Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    How the rose, of orient glow,
+    Mingles with the lily's snow;
+    Mark, how sweet their tints agree,
+    Just, my girl, like thee and me!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXV._
+
+
+    Methinks, the pictur'd bull we see
+    Is amorous Jove--it must be he!
+    How fondly blest he seems to bear
+    That fairest of Phoenician fair!
+    How proud he breasts the foamy tide
+    And spurns the billowy surge aside!
+    Could any beast of vulgar vein,
+    Undaunted thus defy the main?
+    No: he descends from climes above,
+    He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVI._
+
+
+    Away, away, you men of rules,
+    What have I to do with schools?
+    They'd make me learn, they'd make me think,
+    But would they make me love and drink?
+    Teach me this; and let me swim
+    My soul upon the goblet's brim;
+    Teach me this, and let me twine
+    My arms around the nymph divine!
+    Age begins to blanch my brow,
+    I've time for nought but pleasure now.
+    Fly, and cool my goblet's glow
+    At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
+    I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    This soul to slumber as I drink!
+    Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
+    You'll deck your master's grassy grave;
+    And there's an end--for ah! you know
+    They drink but little wine below!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVII._
+
+
+    See the young, the rosy Spring,
+    Gives to the breeze her spangled wing;
+    While virgin Graces, warm with May,
+    Fling roses o'er her dewy way!
+    The murmuring billows of the deep
+    Have languished into silent sleep;
+    And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave
+    Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
+    While cranes from hoary winter fly
+    To flutter in a kinder sky.
+    Now the genial star of day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Dissolves the murky clouds away;
+    And cultur'd field, and winding stream,
+    Are sweetly tissued by his beam.
+    Now the earth prolific swells
+    With leafy buds and flowery bells;
+    Gemming shoots the olive twine,
+    Clusters ripe festoon the vine;
+    All along the branches creeping,
+    Through the velvet foliage peeping,
+    Little infant fruits we see
+    Nursing into luxury!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVIII._
+
+
+    'Tis true, my fading years decline,
+    Yet I can quaff the brimming wine,
+    As deep as any stripling fair,
+    Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear;
+    And if, amidst the wanton crew,
+    I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue,
+    Thou shall behold this vigorous hand,
+    Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    But brandishing a rosy flask,
+    The only Thyrsus e'er I'll ask!
+    Let those who pant for Glory's charms,
+    Embrace her in the held of arms;
+    While my inglorious placid soul
+    Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.
+
+    Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,
+    And bathe me in its honied wave!
+    For though my fading years decay,
+    And though my bloom has passed away,
+    Like old Silenus, sire divine,
+    With blushes borrowed from my wine,
+    I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,
+    And live my follies all again!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIX._
+
+
+    When I drink, I feel, I feel,
+    Visions of poetic zeal!
+    Warm with the goblet's fresh'ning dews,
+    My heart invokes the heavenly Muse.
+    When I drink my sorrow's o'er;
+    I think of doubts and fears no more;
+    But scatter to the railing wind
+    Each gloomy phantom of the mind!
+    When I drink, the jesting boy
+    Bacchus himself partakes my joy;
+    And while we dance through breathing bowers,
+    Whose every gale is rich with flowers,
+    In bowls he makes my senses swim,
+    Till the gale breathes of nought but him!
+    When I drink, I deftly twine
+    Flowers, begemm'd with tears of wine;
+    And, while with festive hand I spread
+    The smiling garland round my head,
+    Something whispers in my breast,
+    How sweet it is to live at rest!
+    When I drink, and perfume stills
+    Around me all in balmy rills,
+    Then as some beauty, smiling roses,
+    In languor on my breast reposes,
+    Venus! I breathe my vows to thee,
+    In many a sigh of luxury!
+    When I drink, my heart refines,
+    And rises as the cup declines;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Rises in the genial flow,
+    That none but social spirits know,
+    When youthful revellers round the bowl,
+    Dilating, mingle soul with soul!
+    When I drink, the bliss is mine;
+    There's bliss in every drop of wine!
+    All other joys that I have known,
+    I've scarcely dared to call my own;
+    But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,
+    Till death o'ershadows all my joy!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXX._
+
+
+    Cupid once upon a bed
+    Of roses laid his weary head;
+    Luckless urchin, not to see
+    Within the leaves a slumbering bee!
+    The bee awaked--with anger wild
+    The bee awaked, and stung the child.
+    Loud and piteous are his cries;
+    To Venus quick he runs, he flies!
+    'Oh, mother!--I am wounded through--
+    I die with pain--in sooth I do!
+    Stung by some little angry thing,
+    Some serpent on a tiny wing--
+    A bee it was--for once, I know
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    I heard a rustic call it so.'
+    Thus he spoke, and she the while
+    Heard him with a soothing smile;
+    Then said, 'My infant, if so much
+    Thou feel the little wild-bee's touch,
+    How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be,
+    The hapless heart that's stung by thee?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXI._
+
+
+    Let us drain the nectar'd bowl,
+    Let us raise the song of soul
+    To him, the God who loves so well
+    The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!
+    Him, who instructs the sons of earth
+    To thrid the tangled dance of mirth;
+    Him, who was nursed with infant Love,
+    And cradled in the Paphian grove;
+    Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms
+    Has fondled in her twining arms.
+    From him that dream of transport flows,
+    Which sweet intoxication knows;
+    With him, the brow forgets to darkle,
+    And brilliant graces learn to sparkle.
+    Behold! my boys a goblet bear,
+    Whose sunny foam bedews the air.
+    Where are now the tear, the sigh?
+    To the winds they fly, they fly!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking,
+    Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking!
+    Oh! can the tears we lend to thought
+    In life's account avail us aught?
+    Can we discern, with all our lore,
+    The path we're yet to journey o'er?
+    No, no! the walk of life is dark;
+    'Tis wine alone can strike a spark!
+    Then let me quaff the foamy tide,
+    And through the dance meandering glide;
+    Let me imbibe the spicy breath
+    Of odours chafed to fragrant death;
+    Or from the kiss of love inhale
+    A more voluptuous, richer gale!
+    To souls that court the phantom
+    Care, Let him retire and shroud him there;
+    While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl,
+    And swell the choral song of soul
+    To him, the God who loves so well
+    The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXII._
+
+
+    Yes, be the glorious revel mine,
+    Where humour sparkles from the wine!
+    Around me let the youthful choir
+    Respond to my beguiling lyre;
+    And while the red cup circles round,
+    Mingle in soul as well as sound!
+    Let the bright nymph, with trembling eye,
+    Beside me all in blushes lie;
+    And, while she weaves a frontlet fair
+    Of hyacinth to deck my hair,
+    Oh! let me snatch her sidelong kisses,
+    And that shall be my bliss of blisses!
+    My soul, to festive feeling true,
+    One pang of envy never knew;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And little has it learn'd to dread
+    The gall that envy's tongue can shed.
+    Away--I hate the slanderous dart,
+    Which steals to wound th' unwary heart;
+    And oh! I hate, with all my soul,
+    Discordant clamours o'er the bowl,
+    Where every cordial heart should be
+    Attuned to peace and harmony.
+    Come, let us hear the soul of song
+    Expire the silver harp along;
+    And through the dance's ringlet move,
+    With maidens mellowing into love:
+    Thus simply happy, thus at peace,
+    Sure such a life should never cease!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIII._
+
+
+    'Twas in an airy dream of night,
+    I fancied that I wing'd my flight
+    On pinions fleeter than the wind,
+    While little Love, whose feet were twined
+    (I know not why) with chains of lead,
+    Pursued me as I trembling fled;
+    Pursued--and could I e'er have thought?--
+    Swift as the moment I was caught!
+    What does the wanton fancy mean
+    By such a strange, illusive scene?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    I fear she whispers to my breast,
+    That you, my girl, have stol'n my rest;
+    That though my fancy, for a while,
+    Has hung on many a woman's smile,
+    I soon dissolved the passing vow,
+    And ne'er was caught by love till now!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIV._
+
+
+    As in the Lemnian caves of fire,
+    The mate of her who nursed Desire
+    Moulded the glowing steel, to form
+    Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm;
+    While Venus every barb imbues
+    With droppings of her honied dews;
+    And Love (alas the victim-heart!)
+    Tinges with gall the burning dart;
+    Once, to this Lemnian cave of flame,
+    The crested Lord of battles came;
+    'Twas from the ranks of war he rush'd,
+    His spear with many a life-drop blush'd!
+    He saw the mystic darts, and smiled
+    Derision on the archer-child.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    'And dost thou smile?' said little Love;
+    'Take this dart, and thou mayst prove,
+    That though they pass the breeze's flight,
+    My bolts are not so feathery light.'
+    He took the shaft--and oh! thy look,
+    Sweet Venus! when the shaft he took--
+    He sigh'd, and felt the urchin's art;
+    He sigh'd, in agony of heart,
+    'It is not light--I die with pain!
+    Take--take thy arrow back again.'
+    'No,' said the child, 'it must not be,
+    That little dart was made for thee!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXV._
+
+
+    How I love the festive boy,
+    Tripping wild the dance of joy!
+    How I love the mellow sage,
+    Smiling through the veil of age!
+    And whene'er this man of years
+    In the dance of joy appears,
+    Age is on his temples hung,
+    But his heart--his heart is young!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVI._
+
+
+    He, who instructs the youthful crew
+    To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,
+    And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses,
+    All the bliss that wine possesses!
+    He, who inspires the youth to glance
+    In winged circlets through the dance;
+    Bacchus, the god again is here,
+    And leads along the blushing year;
+    The blushing year with rapture teems,
+    Ready to shed those cordial streams,
+    Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,
+    Illuminate the sons of earth,
+    And when the ripe and vermeil wine,
+    Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,
+    Which now in mellow clusters swells,
+    Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,
+    The heavenly stream shall mantling flow,
+    To balsam every mortal woe!
+    No youth shall then be wan or weak,
+    For dimpling health shall light the cheek;
+    No heart shall then desponding sigh,
+    For wine shall bid despondence fly!
+    Thus--till another autumn's glow
+    Shall bid another vintage flow!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVII._
+
+
+    And whose immortal hand could shed
+    Upon this disk the ocean's bed?
+    And, in a frenzied flight of soul
+    Sublime as heaven's eternal pole,
+    Imagine thus, in semblance warm,
+    The Queen of Love's voluptuous form
+    Floating along the silvery sea
+    In beauty's naked majesty!
+    Oh! he has given the raptured sight
+    A witching banquet of delight;
+    And all those sacred scenes of love,
+    Where only hallow'd eyes may rove,
+    Lie, faintly glowing, half conceal'd,
+    Within the lucid billows veil'd.
+    Light as the leaf, that summer's breeze
+    Has wafted o'er the glassy seas,
+    She floats upon the ocean's breast,
+    Which undulates in sleepy rest,
+    And stealing on, she gently pillows
+    Her bosom on the amorous billows.
+    Her bosom, like the humid rose,
+    Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,
+    Illume the liquid path she traces,
+    And burn within the stream's embraces!
+    In languid luxury soft she glides,
+    Encircled by the azure tides,
+    Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,
+    Upon a bed of violets sleeping!
+    Beneath their queen's inspiring glance,
+    The dolphins o'er the green sea dance,
+    Bearing in triumph young Desire,
+    And baby Love with smiles of fire!
+    While, sparkling on the silver waves,
+    The tenants of the briny caves
+    Around the pomp in eddies play,
+    And gleam along the watery way.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVIII._
+
+
+    While we invoke the wreathed spring,
+    Resplendent rose! to thee we'll sing;
+    Resplendent rose, the flower of flowers,
+    Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers;
+    Whose virgin blush of chasten'd dye,
+    Enchants so much our mortal eye.
+    When pleasure's bloomy season glows,
+    The Graces love to twine the rose;
+    The rose is warm Dione's bliss,
+    And flushes like Dione's kiss!
+    Oft has the poet's magic tongue
+    The rose's fair luxuriance sung;
+    And long the Muses, heavenly maids,
+    Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades.
+    When, at the early glance of morn,
+    It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,
+    'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,
+    To cull the timid flowret thence,
+    And wipe with tender hand away
+    The tear that on its blushes lay!
+    'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems,
+    Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,
+    And fresh inhale the spicy sighs
+    That from the weeping buds arise.
+    When revel reigns, when mirth is high,
+    And Bacchus beams in every eye,
+    Our rosy fillets scent exhale,
+    And fill with balm the fainting gale!
+    Oh! there is nought in nature bright,
+    Where roses do not shed their light!
+    When morning paints the orient skies,
+    Her fingers burn with roseate dyes;
+    The nymphs display the rose's charms,
+    It mantles o'er their graceful arms;
+    Through Cytherea's form it glows,
+    And mingles with the living snows.
+    The rose distils a healing balm,
+    The beating pulse of pain to calm;
+    Preserves the cold inurned clay,
+    And mocks the vestige of decay:
+    And when at length, in pale decline,
+    Its florid beauties fade and pine,
+    Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath
+    Diffuses odour e'en in death!
+    Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung?
+    Attend--for thus the tale is sung.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    When, humid, from the silvery stream,
+    Effusing beauty's warmest beam,
+    Venus appear'd, in flushing hues,
+    Mellow'd by ocean's briny dews;
+    When, in the starry courts above,
+    The pregnant brain of mighty Jove
+    Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,
+    The nymph who shakes the martial lance!
+    Then, then, in strange eventful hour,
+    The earth produced an infant flower,
+    Which sprung, with blushing tinctures drest,
+    And wanton'd o'er its parent breast.
+    The gods beheld this brilliant birth,
+    And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth!
+    With nectar drops, a ruby tide,
+    The sweetly orient buds they dyèd,
+    And bade them bloom, the flowers divine
+    Of him who sheds the teeming vine;
+    And bade them on the spangled thorn
+    Expand their bosoms to the morn.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIX._
+
+
+    When I behold the festive train
+    Of dancing youth, I'm young again!
+    Memory wakes her magic trance,
+    And wings me lightly through the dance.
+    Come, Cybeba, smiling maid!
+    Cull the flower and twine the braid;
+    Bid the blush of summer's rose
+    Burn upon my brow of snows;
+    And let me, while the wild and young
+    Trip the mazy dance along,
+    Fling my heap of years away,
+    And be as wild, as young as they.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Hither haste, some cordial soul!
+    Give my lips the brimming bowl;
+    Oh! you will see this hoary sage
+    Forget his locks, forget his age.
+    He still can chant the festive hymn,
+    He still can kiss the goblet's brim;
+    He still can act the mellow raver,
+    And play the fool as sweet as ever!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XL._
+
+
+    We read the flying courser's name
+    Upon his side in marks of flame;
+    And, by their turban'd brows alone,
+    The warriors of the East are known.
+    But in the lover's glowing eyes,
+    The inlet to his bosom lies;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Thro' them we see the small faint mark,
+    Where Love has dropt his burning spark!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLI._
+
+
+    When Spring begems the dewy scene,
+    How sweet to walk the velvet green,
+    And hear the Zephyr's languid sighs,
+    As o'er the scented mead he flies!
+    How sweet to mark the pouting vine,
+    Ready to fall in tears of wine;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And with the maid, whose every sigh
+    Is love and bliss, entranced to lie
+    Where the imbowering branches meet--
+    Oh! is not this divinely sweet?
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLII._
+
+
+    I saw the smiling bard of pleasure,
+    The minstrel of the Teian measure;
+    'Twas in a vision of the night.
+    He beam'd upon my wond'ring sight;
+    I heard his voice, and warmly prest
+    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.
+    His lip exhaled, whene'er he sigh'd,
+    The fragrance of the racy tide;
+    And, as with weak and reeling feet,
+    He came my coral kiss to meet,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    An infant, of the Cyprian band,
+    Guided him on with tender hand.
+    Quick from his glowing brows he drew
+    His 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 e'en his garland's touch
+    Can make the bosom love too much!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLIII._
+
+
+    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 right
+    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 th' elastic bound,
+    And reel us through the dance's round.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLIV._
+
+
+    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.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Paint me next, if painting may
+    Such a theme as this pourtray,
+    All the happy heaven of love,
+    These elect of Cupid prove.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLV._
+
+
+    As late I sought the spangled bowers,
+    To cull a wreath of matin flowers,
+    Where many an early rose was weeping,
+    I found the urchin Cupid sleeping.
+    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.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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.
+
+
+
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+In Ode III, beginning of last line on page 26, the word 'The' is mostly
+illegible and has been added by comparison with another version of the
+text.
+
+In Ode III, after the phrase 'my blissful visions fly?', the missing
+punctuation mark ' has been added.
+
+In Ode VII, after 'rapid race', period has been replaced with comma.
+
+In Ode X, after the phrase 'who murder sleep!' The single quotation mark
+' has been deleted.
+
+In Ode XXIII, after the phrase 'wish for liberty', the missing
+punctuation marks ?' have been added.
+
+There are three words with the [oe] ligature. This is normalised to 'oe'
+in the text file; in the HTML file the ligature has been retained.
+
+There is one word with the 'ae' ligature; this has been retained in both
+versions.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Odes of Anacreon, translated by Thomas Moore.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Odes of Anacreon
+
+Author: Thomas Moore
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2011 [EBook #38230]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODES OF ANACREON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Margo Romberg and the Online
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+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>THE ODES OF ANACREON.</h1>
+
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Delevit &aelig;tas.'&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Hor.</i><br /><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;">
+<img src="images/frontis.png" width="452" height="382" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h1>THE ODES OF ANACREON.<br /><br /></h1>
+
+<h4>TRANSLATED BY THOMAS MOORE.<br /><br /></h4>
+
+<h4>WITH FIFTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIVE DESIGNS BY</h4>
+<h3>GIRODET DE ROUSSY.<br /><br /><br /></h3>
+
+<h5><i>NOW FIRST PRODUCED IN ENGLAND.</i><br /><br /></h5>
+
+<h4>LONDON:<br />
+JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY.</h4>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h5>LONDON:<br />
+<span class="smcap">Strangeways and Walden, Printers</span>,<br />
+Castle St. Leicester Sq.</h5>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3>
+<h4>TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.</h4>
+<hr style="width: 26%;" />
+
+<p><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">mongst</span> the innumerable translators of Anacreon, there was one&mdash;a
+Frenchman by birth&mdash;who was both an illustrious painter and a
+literary enthusiast. Girodet de Roussy, inspired by a genius altogether
+Greek in its character, has translated Anacreon better by his pencil than
+he could have been translated by words. One might fancy that his designs
+had been executed under Anacreon's own eye by some Greek artist, who
+had himself witnessed that soft and voluptuous existence, where song and
+pleasure are one.</p>
+
+<p>Seldom indeed have chasteness of execution and voluptuousness of
+character been so curiously and indissolubly blended. Seldom has a
+modern artist so happily caught the spirit of an ancient poet. We seem to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>be transported, as in a dream, to the vines, and orange-groves, and cloudless
+skies of Greece, and the wearied spirit abandons itself for a while to
+the soft influences of the azure heaven, the countless luxuriance of roses,
+the undulating forms of the fair girls dancing in the shade, while youthful
+attendants brim the beaker with wine. Under such influences we remember
+that youth, and love, and mirth are immortal, and we say with
+Horace,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Delevit &aelig;tas.'&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Hor.</i><a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a><br />
+</span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p>In that close wrestle of the genius that imitates with the genius that
+creates, Girodet alone came out from the trial successfully. He has shown
+himself the rival of Anacreon in grace, in <i>abandon</i>, in <i>na&iuml;vet&eacute;</i>. He has
+succeeded in depicting his poet's theme with equal elegance and delicacy.
+Loving with a real love those old Greek songs, he has displayed them in
+living beauty before our eyes in fifty-four exquisite drawings. To attempt
+such a masterpiece required a poet's as well as a painter's skill; and
+Girodet was both a painter and a poet.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a></div>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><span class="i2">'Time cannot raze Anacreon's name,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Nor prey upon his youthful strains.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In examining these compositions, one cannot abstain from a certain
+kind of surprise: all the odes of Anacreon revolve upon two or three
+central ideas, expressed in a manner full of grace, unquestionably, but still
+always the same ideas. The artist, while not deviating from the narrow
+circle traced for him by the poet, shows a fecundity and variety that are
+truly marvellous&mdash;that astonish and enchant us at the same time. The
+nobility, elegance, and wealth of accessories that prevail throughout the
+whole series might, as we have already hinted, lead us to suppose that we
+owed them to one of the famous artists that Greece produced: the painter
+and the poet seem to have been born under one heaven, and informed
+with one soul.</p>
+
+<p>The manners of the time in which Anacreon lived permitted him to
+say many things which, in their crudity, might offend our modern taste.
+Girodet is not less voluptuous than Anacreon; but he always maintains
+that grace and delicacy which add so great a charm to the voluptuous:
+nowhere in his animated panorama is sight or sense shocked.</p>
+
+<p>These designs originally accompanied a translation of the Odes of
+Anacreon, made by the painter himself and published shortly after his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+death. Some small photographs of them on a greatly reduced scale
+appeared in 1864, in an exquisite little edition of the original Greek, from
+the press of Firmin Didot, at the almost prohibitive price of Two Pounds.
+The present reproductions are on a scale more proportionate with the
+originals, and constitute the first appearance of Girodet's designs in England,
+where, we feel assured, they will be appreciated as they deserve by
+all true lovers of classical art.</p>
+
+<p>The English verse-translation of Moore has been chosen to accompany
+them, because, though it has often been objected to by the learned for
+its imperfect scholarship, it seemed to us to be most in harmony with
+the real spirit of the great French painter, and of the old Greek poet
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Oct. 25, 1869.</i><br />
+<br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>FRONTISPIECE</i>&mdash;THE APOTHEOSIS OF ANACREON.</p>
+
+
+<table>
+
+<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="left">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo15">THE LYRE OF ANACREON</a></td><td align="left">15</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo19">NATURE'S GIFT TO WOMAN</a></td><td align="left">19</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo23">CUPID BELATED</a></td><td align="left">23</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo27">ANACREON TENDING CUPID</a></td><td align="left">27</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo31">CUPID TRIES HIS BOW</a></td><td align="left">31</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo35">LOVE AND WINE</a></td><td align="left">35</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo39">THE ROSE</a></td><td align="left">39</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo43">THE GENIUS OF FESTIVITY</a></td><td align="left">43</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo47">A RACE WITH CUPID</a></td><td align="left">47</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo51">ANACREON'S DREAM</a></td><td align="left">51</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo55">THE DOVE</a></td><td align="left">55</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo59">THE GIFT OF VENUS</a></td><td align="left">59</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo63">THE DOVE TENDED BY ANACREON</a></td><td align="left">63</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo67">THE IMAGE OF CUPID</a></td><td align="left">67</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo71">AGE AND PLEASURE</a></td><td align="left">71</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo75">THE CONFLICT WITH LOVE</a></td><td align="left">75</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo79">THE SURRENDER</a></td><td align="left">79</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo83">THE WREATH OF ROSES</a></td><td align="left">83</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo87">THE VICTORY OF THE EYE</a></td><td align="left">87</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo91">THE CUP</a></td><td align="left">91</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo95">CUPID DISARMED</a></td><td align="left">95</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo99">THE MIRROR</a></td><td align="left">99</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo103">THE CHAPLET OF FLOWERS</a></td><td align="left">103</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo107">THE TRUE WEALTH</a></td><td align="left">107</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo111">THE POWER OF WINE</a></td><td align="left">111</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo115">SONG AND DANCE</a></td><td align="left">115</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo119">THE PORTRAIT</a></td><td align="left">119</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo123">BATHYLLUS</a></td><td align="left">123</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo127">THE RANSOM OF CUPID</a></td><td align="left">127</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo131">THE FAIR FUGITIVE</a></td><td align="left">131</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo135">THE LILY AND THE ROSE</a></td><td align="left">135</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo139">EUROPA AND THE BULL</a></td><td align="left">139</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo143">ANACREON DEFYING THE PHILOSOPHER</a></td><td align="left">143</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo147">THE GRACES AND SPRING</a></td><td align="left">147</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo151">THE SUMMONS TO FESTIVITY</a></td><td align="left">151</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo155">THE BOWL OF WINE</a></td><td align="left">155</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo159">VOWS TO VENUS</a></td><td align="left">159</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo163">CUPID STUNG</a></td><td align="left">163</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo167">THE DANCE OF MIRTH</a></td><td align="left">167</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo171">THE FRONTLET OF HYACINTH</a></td><td align="left">171</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo175">CAUGHT BY LOVE</a></td><td align="left">175</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo179">THE LEMNIAN CAVE</a></td><td align="left">179</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo183">THE EVERGREEN HEART</a></td><td align="left">183</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo187">THE BLUSHING YEAR</a></td><td align="left">187</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo191">THE QUEEN OF LOVE</a></td><td align="left">191</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo195">THE ROSE</a></td><td align="left">195</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo199">YOUTH AND DANCE</a></td><td align="left">199</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo203">THE LOVER'S EYES</a></td><td align="left">203</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo207">SPRING</a></td><td align="left">207</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo211">VISION OF THE TEIAN BARD</a></td><td align="left">211</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo215">THE HARP</a></td><td align="left">215</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo219">BACCHANTS</a></td><td align="left">219</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illo223">CUPID IN THE GOBLET</a></td><td align="left">223</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE I.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">I <span class="smcap">often</span> wish this languid lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">This warbler of my soul's desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Could raise the breath of song sublime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To men of fame in former time.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But when the soaring theme I try,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Along the chords my numbers die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And whisper, with dissolving tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Our sighs are given to love alone!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Indignant at the feeble lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I tore the panting chords away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Attuned them to a nobler swell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And struck again the breathing shell;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="illo15" id="illo15"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo15.png" width="450" height="377" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">In all the glow of epic fire,<br /><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To Hercules I wake the lyre!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But still its fainting sighs repeat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'The tale of love alone is sweet!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then fare thee well, seductive dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That madest me follow Glory's theme;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For thou my lyre, and thou my heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shall never more in spirit part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And thou the flame shalt feel as well<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As thou the flame shalt sweetly tell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE II.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">TO all that breathe the airs of heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Some boon of strength has Nature given.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When the majestic bull was born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She fenced his brow with wreath&egrave;d horn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She arm'd the courser's foot of air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And wing'd with speed the panting hare.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She gave the lion fangs of terror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, on the ocean's crystal mirror,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Taught the unnumber'd scaly throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To trace their liquid path along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While for the umbrage of the grove,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 448px;"><a name="illo19" id="illo19"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo19.png" width="448" height="383" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">She plumed the warbling bird of love.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To man she gave the flame refined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The spark of heaven&mdash;a thinking mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And had she no surpassing treasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For thee, oh woman! child of pleasure?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She gave thee beauty&mdash;shaft of eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That every shaft of war outflies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She gave thee beauty&mdash;blush of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That bids the flames of war retire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Woman! be fair, we must adore thee;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Smile, and a world is weak before thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE III.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">'TWAS noon of night, when round the pole<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The sullen Bear is seen to roll;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And mortals, wearied with the day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Are slumbering all their cares away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">An infant, at that dreary hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Came weeping to my silent bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And waked me with a piteous prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To save him from the midnight air!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'And who art thou,' I waking cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'That bidd'st my blissful visions fly?'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'O gentle sire!' the infant said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'In pity take me to thy shed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor fear deceit: a lonely child<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I wander o'er the gloomy wild.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="illo23" id="illo23"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo23.png" width="450" height="375" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Chill drops the rain, and not a ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Illumes the drear and misty way!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I hear the baby's tale of woe;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I hear the bitter night-winds blow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sighing for his piteous fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I trimm'd my lamp and oped the gate.<br /><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">'Twas Love! the little wandering sprite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His pinion sparkled through the night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I knew him by his bow and dart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I knew him by my fluttering heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I take him in, and fondly raise<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The dying embers' cheering blaze;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="illo27" id="illo27"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo27.png" width="450" height="380" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Press from his dank and clinging hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The crystals of the freezing air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And in my hand and bosom hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His little fingers thrilling cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And now the embers' genial ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Had warm'd his anxious fears away:<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">'I pray thee,' said the wanton child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(My bosom trembled as he smiled,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'I pray thee let me try my bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For through the rain I've wander'd so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That much I fear the ceaseless shower<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Has injured its elastic power.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The fatal bow the urchin drew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Swift from the string the arrow flew;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="illo31" id="illo31"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo31.png" width="450" height="381" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Oh! swift it flew as glancing flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And to my very soul it came!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Fare thee well,' I heard him say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As laughing wild he wing'd away:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Fare thee well, for now I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rain has not relax'd my bow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It still can send a maddening dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As thou shalt own with all thy heart!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE IV.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">STREW me a breathing bed of leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where lotos with the myrtle weaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And while in luxury's dream I sink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let me the balm of Bacchus drink!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In this delicious hour of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Young Love shall be my goblet-boy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Folding his little golden vest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With cinctures, round his snowy breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Himself shall hover by my side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And minister the racy tide!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Swift as the wheels that kindling roll,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our life is hurrying to the goal:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A scanty dust, to feed the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is all the trace 'twill leave behind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Why do we shed the rose's bloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon the cold insensate tomb?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can flowery breeze, or odour's breath,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a name="illo35" id="illo35"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo35.png" width="450" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Affect the slumbering chill of death?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No, no; I ask no balm to steep<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With fragrant tears my bed of sleep:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But now, while every pulse is glowing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now let me breathe the balsam flowing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now let the rose, with blush of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon my brow its scent expire;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bring the nymph with floating eye,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! she will teach me how to die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yes, Cupid! ere my soul retire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To join the blest elysian choir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With wine, and love, and blisses dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'll make my own elysium here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE V.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">BUDS of roses, virgin flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the bowl of Bacchus steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Till with crimson drops they weep!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Twine the rose, the garland twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Every leaf distilling wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Drink and smile, and learn to think<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That we were born to smile and drink.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Rose! thou art the sweetest flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That ever drank the amber shower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Rose! thou art the fondest child<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">E'en the gods, who walk the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Are amorous of thy scented sigh.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cupid too, in Paphian shades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His hair with rosy fillet braids,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When with the blushing naked Graces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The wanton winding dance he traces.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo39" id="illo39"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo39.png" width="452" height="380" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Then bring me showers of roses, bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And shed them round me while I sing:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Great Bacchus! in thy hallow'd shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With some celestial, glowing maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While gales of roses round me rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In perfume, sweeten'd by her sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'll bill and twine in airy dance,<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE VI.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHILE our rosy fillets shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Blushes o'er each fervid head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With many a cup and many a smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The festal moments we beguile.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And while the harp, impassion'd, flings<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tuneful rapture from the strings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Some airy nymph, with fluent limbs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through the dance luxuriant swims,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Waving, in her snowy hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The leafy Bacchanalian wand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which, as the tripping wanton flies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shakes its tresses to her sighs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A youth the while, with loosen'd hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Floating on the listless air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sings to the wild harp's tender tone,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo43" id="illo43"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo43.png" width="452" height="387" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">A tale of woes, alas! his own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And then what nectar in his sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As o'er his lip the murmurs die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Surely never yet has been<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">So divine, so blest a scene!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Has Cupid left the starry sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To wave his golden tresses here?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh yes! and Venus, queen of wiles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All, all are here, to hail with me<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The genius of festivity!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE VII.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">ARM'D with hyacinthine rod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(Arms enough for such a god,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cupid bade me wing my pace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And try with him the rapid race.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er the wild torrent, rude and deep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By tangled brake and pendent steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With weary foot I panting flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My brow was chill with drops of dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And now my soul, exhausted, dying,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo47" id="illo47"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo47.png" width="452" height="384" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">To my lip was faintly flying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And now I thought the spark had fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When Cupid hover'd o'er my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And fanning light his breezy plume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Recall'd me from my languid gloom;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then said, in accents half-reproving,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Why hast thou been a foe to loving?'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE VIII.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">'TWAS night, and many a circling bowl<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Had deeply warmed my swimming soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As lull'd in slumber I was laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With virgins blooming as the dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I seem'd to trace the opening lawn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">We flew, and sported as we flew!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Some ruddy striplings, young and sleek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With blush of Bacchus on their cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Saw me trip the flowery wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With dimpled girls, and slily smiled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Smiled indeed with wanton glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But, ah! 'twas plain they envied me.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo51" id="illo51"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo51.png" width="452" height="383" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">And still I flew&mdash;and now I caught<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The panting nymphs, and fondly thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To kiss&mdash;when all my dream of joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Dimpled girls and ruddy boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All were gone! 'Alas!' I said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sighing for the illusions fled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Sleep! again my joys restore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! let me dream them o'er and o'er!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE IX.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">TELL me, why, my sweetest dove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus your humid pinions move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shedding through the air in showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Essence of the balmiest flowers?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tell me whither, whence you rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tell me all, my sweetest dove.&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Curious stranger! I belong<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the bard of Teian song:<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo55" id="illo55"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo55.png" width="452" height="378" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">With his mandate now I fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the nymph of azure eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ah! that eye has madden'd many,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But the poet more than any!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Venus, for a hymn of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Warbled in her votive grove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">('Twas in sooth a gentle lay,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gave me to the bard away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+<span class="i3">See me now his faithful minion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus with softly-gliding pinion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To his lovely girl I bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Songs of passion through the air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oft he blandly whispers me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Soon, my bird, I'll set you free.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But in vain he'll bid me fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I shall serve him till I die.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo59" id="illo59"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo59.png" width="452" height="386" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Never could my plumes sustain<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ruffling winds and chilling rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er the plains, or in the dell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On the mountain's savage swell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Seeking in the desert wood<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gloomy shelter, rustic food.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now I lead a life of ease,</span>
+<span class="i3">Far from such retreats as these;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">From Anacreon's hand I eat<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Food delicious, viands sweet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Flutter o'er his goblet's brim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sip the foamy wine with him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then I dance and wanton round<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the lyre's beguiling sound;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or with gently-fanning wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shade the minstrel while he sings:<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo63" id="illo63"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo63.png" width="452" height="388" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">On his harp then sink in slumbers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Dreaming still of dulcet numbers!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">This is all&mdash;away&mdash;away&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You have made me waste the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How I've chatter'd! prating crow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Never yet did chatter so.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE X.</i></b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">'TELL me, gentle youth, I pray thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What in purchase shall I pay thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For this little waxen toy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Image of the Paphian boy?'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus I said the other day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To a youth who pass'd my way:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Sir,' he answer'd, and the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Answer'd all in Doric style,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Take it, for a trifle take it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Think not yet that I could make it;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pray, believe it was not I;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No&mdash;it cost me many a sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And I can no longer keep<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Little gods, who murder sleep!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo67" id="illo67"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo67.png" width="452" height="385" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Here, then, here,' (I said with joy)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Here is silver for the boy:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He shall be my bosom guest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Idol of my pious breast!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Little Love! thou now art mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Warm me with that torch of thine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Make me feel as I have felt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or thy waxen frame shall melt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I must burn in warm desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or thou, my boy, in yonder fire!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">THE women tell me every day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That all my bloom has past away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Behold,' the pretty wantons cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Behold this mirror with a sigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The locks upon thy brow are few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And like the rest, they're withering too!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whether decline has thinn'd my hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'm sure I neither know nor care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But this I know, and this I feel,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo71" id="illo71"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo71.png" width="452" height="383" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">As onward to the tomb I steal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That still as death approaches nearer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The joys of life are sweeter, dearer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And had I but an hour to live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That little hour to bliss I'd give!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">I WILL; I will; the conflict's past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And I'll consent to love at last.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cupid has long, with smiling art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Invited me to yield my heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And I have thought that peace of mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Should not be for a smile resign'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And I've repell'd the tender lure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And hoped my heart should sleep secure.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But, slighted in his boasted charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The angry infant flew to arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He slung his quiver's golden frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He took his bow, his shafts of flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And proudly summon'd me to yield,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo75" id="illo75"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo75.png" width="452" height="377" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Or meet him on the martial field.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And what did I unthinking do?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I took to arms, undaunted too;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, like Pelides, smiled at fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then (hear it, all you powers above!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I fought with Love! I fought with Love!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">And now his arrows all were shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And I had just in terrors fled&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When heaving an indignant sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To see me thus unwounded fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And having now no other dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He glanced himself into my heart!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My heart&mdash;alas the luckless day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Received the god, and died away.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo79" id="illo79"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo79.png" width="452" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy lord at length is forced to yield.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Vain, vain, is every outward care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My foe's within, and triumphs there.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">I CARE not for the idle state<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of Persia's king, the rich, the great!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I envy not the monarch's throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor wish the treasured gold my own.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But oh! be mine the rosy braid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The fervour of my brows to shade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Be mine the odours, richly sighing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Amidst my hoary tresses flying.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To-day, I'll haste to quaff my wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As if to-morrow ne'er should shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But if to-morrow comes, why then&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'll haste to quaff my wine again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And thus while all our days are bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor time has dimm'd their bloomy light,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo83" id="illo83"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo83.png" width="452" height="380" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Let us the festal hours beguile<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With mantling cup and cordial smile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And shed from every bowl of wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The richest drop on Bacchus' shrine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For Death may come, with brow unpleasant,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">May come, when least we wish him present,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And beckon to the sable shore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And grimly bid us drink no more!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XIV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">THY harp may sing of Troy's alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or tell the tale of Theban arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With other wars my song shall burn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For other wounds my harp shall mourn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Twas not the crested warrior's dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which drank the current of my heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Have made this vanquish'd bosom bleed;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo87" id="illo87"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo87.png" width="452" height="376" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">No&mdash;from an eye of liquid blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A host of quiver'd cupids flew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And now my heart all bleeding lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Beneath this army of the eyes!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XV</i>.</b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">GRAVE me a cup with brilliant grace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Deep as the rich and holy vase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which on the shrine of Spring reposes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When shepherds hail that hour of roses.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Grave it with themes of chaste design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Form'd for a heavenly bowl like mine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Display not there the barbarous rites,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In which religious zeal delights;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo91" id="illo91"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo91.png" width="452" height="378" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Nor any tale of tragic fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which history trembles to relate!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No&mdash;cull thy fancies from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Themes of heaven and themes of love.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let Bacchus, Jove's ambrosial boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Distil the grape in drops of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">And while he smiles at every tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let warm-eyed Venus dancing near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With spirits of the genial bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The dewy herbage deftly tread.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let Love be there, without his arms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In timid nakedness of charms;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo95" id="illo95"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo95.png" width="452" height="378" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">And all the Graces link'd with Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Blushing through the shadowy grove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While rosy boys disporting round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In circlets trip the velvet ground;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But ah! if there Apollo toys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I tremble for my rosy boys!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XVI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">THE Phrygian rock that braves the storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Was once a weeping matron's form;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Progne, hapless, frantic maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is now a swallow in the shade.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! that a mirror's form were mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To sparkle with that smile divine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And like my heart I then should be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Reflecting thee, and only thee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or were I, love, the robe which flows<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er every charm that secret glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In many a lucid fold to swim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And cling and grow to every limb!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! could I, as the streamlet's wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy warmly-mellowing beauties lave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or float as perfume on thine hair,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo99" id="illo99"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo99.png" width="452" height="382" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">And breathe my soul in fragrance there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I wish I were the zone, that lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or like those envious pearls that show<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">So faintly round that neck of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yes, I would be a happy gem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Like them to hang, to fade like them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What more would thy Anacreon be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! anything that touches thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nay, sandals for those airy feet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus to be press'd by thee were sweet!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XVII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">NOW the star of day is high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fly, my girls, in pity fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bring me wine in brimming urns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cool my lip, it burns, it burns!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sunn'd by the meridian fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Panting, languid I expire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Give me all those humid flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Drop them o'er my brow in showers.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Scarce a breathing chaplet now<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lives upon my feverish brow;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo103" id="illo103"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo103.png" width="452" height="385" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Every dewy rose I wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sheds its tears and withers there.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But for you, my burning mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! what shelter shall I find?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can the bowl, or floweret's dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cool the flame that scorches you?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XVIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">IF hoarded gold possess'd a power<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To lengthen life's too fleeting hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And purchase from the land of death<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A little span, a moment's breath,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How I would love the precious ore!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And every day should swell my store;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That when the Fates would send their minion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To waft me off on shadowy pinion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I might some hours of life obtain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bribe him back to hell again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But, since we ne'er can charm away<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The mandate of that awful day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Why do we vainly weep at fate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And sigh for life's uncertain date?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The light of gold can ne'er illume<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The dreary midnight of the tomb!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And why should I then pant for treasures?<br /></span></p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo107" id="illo107"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo107.png" width="452" height="376" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The goblet rich, the board of friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose flowing souls the goblet blends:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mine be the nymph, whose form reposes<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Seductive on that bed of roses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And oh! be mine the soul's excess,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Expiring in her warm caress!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XIX.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHEN my thirsty soul I steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Talk of monarchs! I am then<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Richest, happiest, first of men;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Careless, o'er my cup I sing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fancy makes me more than king;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gives me wealthy Cr&oelig;sus' store,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can I, can I wish for more?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On my velvet couch reclining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ivy leaves my brow entwining,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While my soul dilates with glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What are kings and crowns to me?<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;">
+<a name="illo111" id="illo111"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo111.png" width="452" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">If before my feet they lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I would spurn them all away!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Arm you, arm you, men of might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Hasten to the sanguine fight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let me, oh my budding vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Spill no other blood than thine.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yonder brimming goblet see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That alone shall vanquish me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! I think it sweeter far<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To fall in banquet than in war!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XX.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHEN Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rosy harbinger of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thaws the winter of our soul;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When to the inmost core he glides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bathes it with his ruby tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A flow of joy, a lively heat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fires my brain, and wings my feet;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis surely something sweet, I think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo115" id="illo115"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo115.png" width="452" height="381" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Sing, sing of love, let music's breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Softly beguile our rapturous death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While, my young Venus, thou and I<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the voluptuous cadence die!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then waking from our languid trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Again we'll sport, again we'll dance.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">THOU, whose soft and rosy hues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mimic form and soul infuse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Best of painters! come portray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The lovely maid that's far away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Far away, my soul! thou art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But I've thy beauties all by heart.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Paint her jetty ringlets straying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Silky twine in tendrils playing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, if painting hath the skill<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To make the spicy balm distil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let every little lock exhale<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A sigh of perfume on the gale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where her tresses' curly flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Darkles o'er the brow of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let her forehead beam to light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Burnish'd as the ivory bright.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let her eyebrows sweetly rise<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In jetty arches o'er her eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gently in her crescent gliding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Just commingling, just dividing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But hast thou any sparkles warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The lightning of her eyes to form?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3"><br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo119" id="illo119"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo119.png" width="452" height="377" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Let them effuse the azure ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With which Minerva's glances play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And give them all that liquid fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That Venus' languid eyes respire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">O'er her nose and cheek be shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Flushing white and mellow'd red;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gradual tints, as when there glows<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In snowy milk the bashful rose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then her lip, so rich in blisses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sweet petitioner for kisses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pouting nest of bland persuasion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ripely suing Love's invasion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then beneath the velvet chin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose dimple shades a love within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mould her neck with grace descending.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In a heaven of beauty ending;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While airy charms, above, below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sport and flutter on its snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now let a floating, lucid veil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shadow her limbs, but not, conceal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A charm may peep, a hue may beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And leave the rest to Fancy's dream.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Enough&mdash;'tis she! 'tis all I seek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It glows, it lives, it soon will speak.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">AND now with all thy pencil's truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let his hair in lapses bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fall like streaming rays of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And there the raven's dye confuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With the yellow sunbeam's hues.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let not the braid, with artful twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The flowing of his locks confine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But loosen every golden ring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To float upon the breeze's wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Beneath the front of polished glow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Front as fair as mountain-snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And guileless as the dews of dawn,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo123" id="illo123"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo123.png" width="452" height="375" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Let the majestic brows be drawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of ebon dies, enriched by gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Such as the scaly snakes unfold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mingle in his jetty glances,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Power that awes, and love that trances;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Steal from Venus bland desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Steal from Mars the look of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Blend them in such expression here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That we by turns may hope and fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now from the sunny apple seek<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The velvet down that spreads his cheek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And there let Beauty's rosy ray<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In flying blushes richly play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Blushes, of that celestial flame<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which lights the cheek of virgin shame.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">Then for his lips, that ripely gem&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But let thy mind imagine them!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Paint, where the ruby cell uncloses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Persuasion sleeping upon roses;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And give his lip that speaking air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As if a word was hovering there!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His neck of ivory splendour trace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Moulded with soft but manly grace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Give him the winged Hermes' hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With which he waves his snaky wand:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let Bacchus then the breast supply,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Leda's son the sinewy thigh.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But oh! suffuse his limbs of fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With all that glow of young desire,<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo127" id="illo127"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo127.png" width="452" height="384" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Which kindles, when the wishful sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Steals from the heart, unconscious why.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thy pencil, though divinely bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is envious of the eye's delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or its enamoured touch would shew<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His shoulder, fair as sunless snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which now in veiling shadow lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Removed from all but Fancy's eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now, for his feet&mdash;but hold&mdash;forbear&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I see a godlike portrait there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">So like Bathyllus! sure there's none<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">So like Bathyllus but the Sun!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! let this pictured god be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And keep the boy for Samos' shrine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ph&oelig;bus shall then Bathyllus be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bathyllus then the deity!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">ONE day, the Muses twined the hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of baby Love, with flowery bands;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And to celestial Beauty gave<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The captive infant as her slave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His mother comes with many a toy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To ransom her beloved boy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His mother sues, but all in vain!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo131" id="illo131"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo131.png" width="452" height="380" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">He ne'er will leave his chains again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nay, should they take his chains away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The little captive still would stay.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'If this,' he cries, 'a bondage be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who could wish for liberty?'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXIV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">FLY not thus my brow of snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lovely wanton! fly not so.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Though the wane of age is mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Though the brilliant flush is thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Still I'm doom'd to sigh for thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">See, in yonder flowery braid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo135" id="illo135"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo135.png" width="452" height="381" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">How the rose, of orient glow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mingles with the lily's snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mark, how sweet their tints agree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Just, my girl, like thee and me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">METHINKS, the pictur'd bull we see<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is amorous Jove&mdash;it must be he!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How fondly blest he seems to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That fairest of Ph&oelig;nician fair!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How proud he breasts the foamy tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And spurns the billowy surge aside!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Could any beast of vulgar vein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Undaunted thus defy the main?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No: he descends from climes above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo139" id="illo139"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo139.png" width="452" height="377" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXVI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">AWAY, away, you men of rules,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What have I to do with schools?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They'd make me learn, they'd make me think,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But would they make me love and drink?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Teach me this; and let me swim<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My soul upon the goblet's brim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Teach me this, and let me twine<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">My arms around the nymph divine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Age begins to blanch my brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I've time for nought but pleasure now.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fly, and cool my goblet's glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">At yonder fountain's gelid flow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo143" id="illo143"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo143.png" width="452" height="362" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">This soul to slumber as I drink!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">You'll deck your master's grassy grave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And there's an end&mdash;for ah! you know<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">They drink but little wine below!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXVII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">SEE the young, the rosy Spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gives to the breeze her spangled wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While virgin Graces, warm with May,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fling roses o'er her dewy way!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The murmuring billows of the deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Have languished into silent sleep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Their plumes in the reflecting wave;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While cranes from hoary winter fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To flutter in a kinder sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now the genial star of day<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo147" id="illo147"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo147.png" width="452" height="381" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Dissolves the murky clouds away;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And cultur'd field, and winding stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Are sweetly tissued by his beam.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now the earth prolific swells<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With leafy buds and flowery bells;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gemming shoots the olive twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Clusters ripe festoon the vine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All along the branches creeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through the velvet foliage peeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Little infant fruits we see<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Nursing into luxury!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXVIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">'TIS true, my fading years decline,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yet I can quaff the brimming wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As deep as any stripling fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And if, amidst the wanton crew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thou shall behold this vigorous hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo151" id="illo151"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo151.png" width="452" height="382" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">But brandishing a rosy flask,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The only Thyrsus e'er I'll ask!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let those who pant for Glory's charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Embrace her in the held of arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While my inglorious placid soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bathe me in its honied wave!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For though my fading years decay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And though my bloom has passed away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Like old Silenus, sire divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With blushes borrowed from my wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And live my follies all again!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo155" id="illo155"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo155.png" width="452" height="377" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXIX.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHEN I drink, I feel, I feel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Visions of poetic zeal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Warm with the goblet's fresh'ning dews,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My heart invokes the heavenly Muse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink my sorrow's o'er;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I think of doubts and fears no more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But scatter to the railing wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Each gloomy phantom of the mind!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink, the jesting boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bacchus himself partakes my joy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And while we dance through breathing bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose every gale is rich with flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In bowls he makes my senses swim,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">Till the gale breathes of nought but him!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink, I deftly twine<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Flowers, begemm'd with tears of wine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, while with festive hand I spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The smiling garland round my head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Something whispers in my breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How sweet it is to live at rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink, and perfume stills<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Around me all in balmy rills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then as some beauty, smiling roses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In languor on my breast reposes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Venus! I breathe my vows to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In many a sigh of luxury!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink, my heart refines,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And rises as the cup declines;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo159" id="illo159"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo159.png" width="452" height="382" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Rises in the genial flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That none but social spirits know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When youthful revellers round the bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Dilating, mingle soul with soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When I drink, the bliss is mine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">There's bliss in every drop of wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All other joys that I have known,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I've scarcely dared to call my own;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Till death o'ershadows all my joy!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXX.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">CUPID once upon a bed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of roses laid his weary head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Luckless urchin, not to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Within the leaves a slumbering bee!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The bee awaked&mdash;with anger wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The bee awaked, and stung the child.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Loud and piteous are his cries;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To Venus quick he runs, he flies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Oh, mother!&mdash;I am wounded through&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I die with pain&mdash;in sooth I do!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Stung by some little angry thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Some serpent on a tiny wing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A bee it was&mdash;for once, I know<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo163" id="illo163"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo163.png" width="452" height="370" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">I heard a rustic call it so.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus he spoke, and she the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Heard him with a soothing smile;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then said, 'My infant, if so much<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thou feel the little wild-bee's touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The hapless heart that's stung by thee?'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">LET us drain the nectar'd bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let us raise the song of soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To him, the God who loves so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Him, who instructs the sons of earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To thrid the tangled dance of mirth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Him, who was nursed with infant Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And cradled in the Paphian grove;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Has fondled in her twining arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">From him that dream of transport flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which sweet intoxication knows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With him, the brow forgets to darkle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And brilliant graces learn to sparkle.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Behold! my boys a goblet bear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose sunny foam bedews the air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where are now the tear, the sigh?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To the winds they fly, they fly!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo167" id="illo167"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo167.png" width="452" height="360" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! can the tears we lend to thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In life's account avail us aught?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can we discern, with all our lore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The path we're yet to journey o'er?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No, no! the walk of life is dark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis wine alone can strike a spark!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then let me quaff the foamy tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And through the dance meandering glide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let me imbibe the spicy breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of odours chafed to fragrant death;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Or from the kiss of love inhale<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A more voluptuous, richer gale!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To souls that court the phantom Care,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let him retire and shroud him there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And swell the choral song of soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To him, the God who loves so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">YES, be the glorious revel mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where humour sparkles from the wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Around me let the youthful choir<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Respond to my beguiling lyre;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And while the red cup circles round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mingle in soul as well as sound!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Let the bright nymph, with trembling eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Beside me all in blushes lie;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, while she weaves a frontlet fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of hyacinth to deck my hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! let me snatch her sidelong kisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And that shall be my bliss of blisses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My soul, to festive feeling true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">One pang of envy never knew;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo171" id="illo171"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo171.png" width="452" height="385" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">And little has it learn'd to dread<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The gall that envy's tongue can shed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Away&mdash;I hate the slanderous dart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which steals to wound th' unwary heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And oh! I hate, with all my soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Discordant clamours o'er the bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where every cordial heart should be<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Attuned to peace and harmony.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Come, let us hear the soul of song<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Expire the silver harp along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And through the dance's ringlet move,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With maidens mellowing into love:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus simply happy, thus at peace,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sure such a life should never cease!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">'TWAS in an airy dream of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I fancied that I wing'd my flight<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">On pinions fleeter than the wind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While little Love, whose feet were twined<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">(I know not why) with chains of lead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pursued me as I trembling fled;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Pursued&mdash;and could I e'er have thought?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Swift as the moment I was caught!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">What does the wanton fancy mean<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">By such a strange, illusive scene?<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo175" id="illo175"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo175.png" width="452" height="384" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">I fear she whispers to my breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That you, my girl, have stol'n my rest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That though my fancy, for a while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Has hung on many a woman's smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I soon dissolved the passing vow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And ne'er was caught by love till now!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXIV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">AS in the Lemnian caves of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The mate of her who nursed Desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Moulded the glowing steel, to form<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While Venus every barb imbues<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With droppings of her honied dews;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Love (alas the victim-heart!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tinges with gall the burning dart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Once, to this Lemnian cave of flame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The crested Lord of battles came;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Twas from the ranks of war he rush'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His spear with many a life-drop blush'd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He saw the mystic darts, and smiled<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Derision on the archer-child.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo179" id="illo179"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo179.png" width="452" height="378" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">'And dost thou smile?' said little Love;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Take this dart, and thou mayst prove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That though they pass the breeze's flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">My bolts are not so feathery light.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He took the shaft&mdash;and oh! thy look,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sweet Venus! when the shaft he took&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He sigh'd, and felt the urchin's art;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He sigh'd, in agony of heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'It is not light&mdash;I die with pain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Take&mdash;take thy arrow back again.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'No,' said the child, 'it must not be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That little dart was made for thee!'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">HOW I love the festive boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Tripping wild the dance of joy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How I love the mellow sage,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Smiling through the veil of age!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And whene'er this man of years<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the dance of joy appears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Age is on his temples hung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But his heart&mdash;his heart is young!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo183" id="illo183"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo183.png" width="452" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXVI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">HE, who instructs the youthful crew<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All the bliss that wine possesses!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He, who inspires the youth to glance<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In winged circlets through the dance;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bacchus, the god again is here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And leads along the blushing year;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The blushing year with rapture teems,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ready to shed those cordial streams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Illuminate the sons of earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And when the ripe and vermeil wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which now in mellow clusters swells,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The heavenly stream shall mantling flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To balsam every mortal woe!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No youth shall then be wan or weak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For dimpling health shall light the cheek;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">No heart shall then desponding sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For wine shall bid despondence fly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Thus&mdash;till another autumn's glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Shall bid another vintage flow!<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo187" id="illo187"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo187.png" width="452" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXVII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">AND whose immortal hand could shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon this disk the ocean's bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, in a frenzied flight of soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sublime as heaven's eternal pole,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Imagine thus, in semblance warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Queen of Love's voluptuous form<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Floating along the silvery sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In beauty's naked majesty!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! he has given the raptured sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A witching banquet of delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all those sacred scenes of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where only hallow'd eyes may rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Lie, faintly glowing, half conceal'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Within the lucid billows veil'd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Light as the leaf, that summer's breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Has wafted o'er the glassy seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">She floats upon the ocean's breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which undulates in sleepy rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">And stealing on, she gently pillows<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Her bosom on the amorous billows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Her bosom, like the humid rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Illume the liquid path she traces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And burn within the stream's embraces!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In languid luxury soft she glides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Encircled by the azure tides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon a bed of violets sleeping!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Beneath their queen's inspiring glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The dolphins o'er the green sea dance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bearing in triumph young Desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And baby Love with smiles of fire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">While, sparkling on the silver waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The tenants of the briny caves<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Around the pomp in eddies play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And gleam along the watery way.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo191" id="illo191"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo191.png" width="452" height="382" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXVIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHILE we invoke the wreathed spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Resplendent rose! to thee we'll sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Resplendent rose, the flower of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Whose virgin blush of chasten'd dye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Enchants so much our mortal eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When pleasure's bloomy season glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The Graces love to twine the rose;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rose is warm Dione's bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And flushes like Dione's kiss!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oft has the poet's magic tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rose's fair luxuriance sung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And long the Muses, heavenly maids,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When, at the early glance of morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To cull the timid flowret thence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And wipe with tender hand away<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The tear that on its blushes lay!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
+<span class="i3">And fresh inhale the spicy sighs<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">That from the weeping buds arise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When revel reigns, when mirth is high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Bacchus beams in every eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our rosy fillets scent exhale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And fill with balm the fainting gale!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! there is nought in nature bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where roses do not shed their light!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When morning paints the orient skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Her fingers burn with roseate dyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The nymphs display the rose's charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It mantles o'er their graceful arms;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through Cytherea's form it glows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And mingles with the living snows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The rose distils a healing balm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The beating pulse of pain to calm;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Preserves the cold inurned clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And mocks the vestige of decay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And when at length, in pale decline,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Its florid beauties fade and pine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Diffuses odour e'en in death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung?<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Attend&mdash;for thus the tale is sung.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo195" id="illo195"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo195.png" width="452" height="381" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">When, humid, from the silvery stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Effusing beauty's warmest beam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Venus appear'd, in flushing hues,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Mellow'd by ocean's briny dews;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">When, in the starry courts above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The pregnant brain of mighty Jove<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The nymph who shakes the martial lance!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then, then, in strange eventful hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The earth produced an infant flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which sprung, with blushing tinctures drest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And wanton'd o'er its parent breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The gods beheld this brilliant birth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With nectar drops, a ruby tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The sweetly orient buds they dy&egrave;d,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bade them bloom, the flowers divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of him who sheds the teeming vine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And bade them on the spangled thorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Expand their bosoms to the morn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XXXIX.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHEN I behold the festive train<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Of dancing youth, I'm young again!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Memory wakes her magic trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And wings me lightly through the dance.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Come, Cybeba, smiling maid!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Cull the flower and twine the braid;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bid the blush of summer's rose<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Burn upon my brow of snows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And let me, while the wild and young<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Trip the mazy dance along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Fling my heap of years away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And be as wild, as young as they.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo199" id="illo199"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo199.png" width="452" height="385" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Hither haste, some cordial soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Give my lips the brimming bowl;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! you will see this hoary sage<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Forget his locks, forget his age.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He still can chant the festive hymn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He still can kiss the goblet's brim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He still can act the mellow raver,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And play the fool as sweet as ever!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XL.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WE read the flying courser's name<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Upon his side in marks of flame;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, by their turban'd brows alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The warriors of the East are known.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But in the lover's glowing eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The inlet to his bosom lies;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo203" id="illo203"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo203.png" width="452" height="383" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Thro' them we see the small faint mark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where Love has dropt his burning spark!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XLI.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap2"><span class="i3">WHEN Spring begems the dewy scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How sweet to walk the velvet green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And hear the Zephyr's languid sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As o'er the scented mead he flies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">How sweet to mark the pouting vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Ready to fall in tears of wine;<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo207" id="illo207"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo207.png" width="452" height="375" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">And with the maid, whose every sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Is love and bliss, entranced to lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where the imbowering branches meet&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Oh! is not this divinely sweet?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XLII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap"><span class="i3">I SAW the smiling bard of pleasure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The minstrel of the Teian measure;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">'Twas in a vision of the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He beam'd upon my wond'ring sight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I heard his voice, and warmly prest<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The dear enthusiast to my breast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His tresses wore a silvery dye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But beauty sparkled in his eye;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sparkled in his eyes of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Through the mist of soft desire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His lip exhaled, whene'er he sigh'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">The fragrance of the racy tide;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And, as with weak and reeling feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">He came my coral kiss to meet,<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo211" id="illo211"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo211.png" width="452" height="386" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">An infant, of the Cyprian band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Guided him on with tender hand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Quick from his glowing brows he drew<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">His braid, of many a wanton hue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I took the braid of wanton twine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">It breathed of him and blush'd with wine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I hung it o'er my thoughtless brow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And ah! I feel its magic now!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I feel that e'en his garland's touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Can make the bosom love too much!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XLIII.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">GIVE me the harp of epic song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But tear away the sanguine string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For war is not the theme I sing.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Proclaim the laws of festal right<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I'm monarch of the board to-night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And all around shall brim as high,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And quaff the tide as deep as I!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And when the cluster's mellowing dews<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Their warm, enchanting balm infuse<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our feet shall catch th' elastic bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And reel us through the dance's round.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo215" id="illo215"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo215.png" width="452" height="380" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Oh, Bacchus! we shall sing to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In wild but sweet ebriety!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And flash around such sparks of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As Bacchus could alone have taught!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Then give the harp of epic song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Which Homer's finger thrill'd along;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But tear away the sanguine string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For war is not the theme I sing!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XLIV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">LISTEN to the Muse's lyre,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Master of the pencil's fire!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Sketch'd in painting's bold display,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Many a city first pourtray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Many a city revelling free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Warm with loose festivity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Picture then a rosy train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Bacchants straying o'er the plain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Piping, as they roam along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Roundelay or shepherd-song.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo219" id="illo219"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo219.png" width="452" height="379" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Paint me next, if painting may<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Such a theme as this pourtray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All the happy heaven of love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">These elect of Cupid prove.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center"><b><i>ODE XLV.</i></b></p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="cap1"><span class="i3">AS late I sought the spangled bowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To cull a wreath of matin flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Where many an early rose was weeping,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I found the urchin Cupid sleeping.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I caught the boy, a goblet's tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Was richly mantling by my side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I caught him by his downy wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And whelm'd him in the racy spring.<br /></span></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;"><a name="illo223" id="illo223"></a><br /><br />
+<img src="images/illo223.png" width="452" height="383" alt="" title="" /><br /><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Oh! then I drank the poison'd bowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And Love now nestles in my soul!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Yes, yes, my soul is Cupid's nest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">I feel him fluttering in my breast.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+<hr style="width: 85%;" />
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+
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+<p class="center">Mr. <span class="smcap">Swinburne's</span> New Book.</p>
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+
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+
+<h4>Transcriber's Notes</h4>
+
+<p>In Ode III, beginning of last line on page 26, the word 'The' is mostly illegible and has been added by comparison with another version of the text.<br /></p>
+
+<p>In Ode III, after the phrase 'my blissful visions fly?', the missing punctuation mark ' has been added.<br /></p>
+
+<p>In Ode VII, after 'rapid race', period has been replaced with comma.<br /></p>
+
+<p>In Ode X, after the phrase 'who murder sleep!' The single quotation mark ' has been deleted.<br /></p>
+
+<p>In Ode XXIII, after the phrase 'wish for liberty', the missing punctuation marks ?' have been added.<br /></p>
+
+<p>There are three words with the [oe] ligature.  This is normalised to 'oe' in the text file; in the HTML file the ligature has been retained.<br /></p>
+
+<p>There is one word with the 'ae' ligature; this has been retained in both versions.<br /></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODES OF ANACREON ***
+
+***** This file should be named 38230-h.htm or 38230-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/2/3/38230/
+
+Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by Case Western Reserve University Preservation Department
+Digital Library)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
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+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Odes of Anacreon
+
+Author: Thomas Moore
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2011 [EBook #38230]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODES OF ANACREON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Giacomelli, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by Case Western Reserve University Preservation Department
+Digital Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    THE ODES OF ANACREON.
+
+
+    'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon
+    Delevit aetas.'          _Hor._
+
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+    THE ODES OF ANACREON.
+
+    TRANSLATED BY THOMAS MOORE.
+
+    WITH FIFTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIVE DESIGNS BY GIRODET DE ROUSSY.
+
+    _NOW FIRST PRODUCED IN ENGLAND._
+
+    LONDON:
+    JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY.
+
+
+
+
+    LONDON:
+    STRANGEWAYS AND WALDEN, PRINTERS,
+    Castle St. Leicester Sq.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
+
+
+Amongst the innumerable translators of Anacreon, there was one--a
+Frenchman by birth--who was both an illustrious painter and a literary
+enthusiast. Girodet de Roussy, inspired by a genius altogether Greek in
+its character, has translated Anacreon better by his pencil than he
+could have been translated by words. One might fancy that his designs
+had been executed under Anacreon's own eye by some Greek artist, who had
+himself witnessed that soft and voluptuous existence, where song and
+pleasure are one.
+
+Seldom indeed have chasteness of execution and voluptuousness of
+character been so curiously and indissolubly blended. Seldom has a
+modern artist so happily caught the spirit of an ancient poet. We seem
+to be transported, as in a dream, to the vines, and orange-groves, and
+cloudless skies of Greece, and the wearied spirit abandons itself for a
+while to the soft influences of the azure heaven, the countless
+luxuriance of roses, the undulating forms of the fair girls dancing in
+the shade, while youthful attendants brim the beaker with wine. Under
+such influences we remember that youth, and love, and mirth are
+immortal, and we say with Horace,--
+
+'Nec, si quid olim lusit Anacreon Delevit aetas.'[1]
+
+In that close wrestle of the genius that imitates with the genius that
+creates, Girodet alone came out from the trial successfully. He has
+shown himself the rival of Anacreon in grace, in _abandon_, in
+_naivete_. He has succeeded in depicting his poet's theme with equal
+elegance and delicacy. Loving with a real love those old Greek songs, he
+has displayed them in living beauty before our eyes in fifty-four
+exquisite drawings. To attempt such a masterpiece required a poet's as
+well as a painter's skill; and Girodet was both a painter and a poet.
+
+In examining these compositions, one cannot abstain from a certain kind
+of surprise: all the odes of Anacreon revolve upon two or three central
+ideas, expressed in a manner full of grace, unquestionably, but still
+always the same ideas. The artist, while not deviating from the narrow
+circle traced for him by the poet, shows a fecundity and variety that
+are truly marvellous--that astonish and enchant us at the same time. The
+nobility, elegance, and wealth of accessories that prevail throughout
+the whole series might, as we have already hinted, lead us to suppose
+that we owed them to one of the famous artists that Greece produced: the
+painter and the poet seem to have been born under one heaven, and
+informed with one soul.
+
+The manners of the time in which Anacreon lived permitted him to say
+many things which, in their crudity, might offend our modern taste.
+Girodet is not less voluptuous than Anacreon; but he always maintains
+that grace and delicacy which add so great a charm to the voluptuous:
+nowhere in his animated panorama is sight or sense shocked.
+
+These designs originally accompanied a translation of the Odes of
+Anacreon, made by the painter himself and published shortly after his
+death. Some small photographs of them on a greatly reduced scale
+appeared in 1864, in an exquisite little edition of the original Greek,
+from the press of Firmin Didot, at the almost prohibitive price of Two
+Pounds. The present reproductions are on a scale more proportionate with
+the originals, and constitute the first appearance of Girodet's designs
+in England, where, we feel assured, they will be appreciated as they
+deserve by all true lovers of classical art.
+
+The English verse-translation of Moore has been chosen to accompany
+them, because, though it has often been objected to by the learned for
+its imperfect scholarship, it seemed to us to be most in harmony with
+the real spirit of the great French painter, and of the old Greek poet
+himself.
+
+    _Oct. 25, 1869._
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] 'Time cannot raze Anacreon's name, Nor prey upon his youthful
+strains.'
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+_FRONTISPIECE_--THE APOTHEOSIS OF ANACREON.
+
+PAGE
+
+THE LYRE OF ANACREON 15
+
+NATURE'S GIFT TO WOMAN 19
+
+CUPID BELATED 23
+
+ANACREON TENDING CUPID 27
+
+CUPID TRIES HIS BOW 31
+
+LOVE AND WINE 35
+
+THE ROSE 39
+
+THE GENIUS OF FESTIVITY 43
+
+A RACE WITH CUPID 47
+
+ANACREON'S DREAM 51
+
+THE DOVE 55
+
+THE GIFT OF VENUS 59
+
+THE DOVE TENDED BY ANACREON 63
+
+THE IMAGE OF CUPID 67
+
+AGE AND PLEASURE 71
+
+THE CONFLICT WITH LOVE 75
+
+THE SURRENDER 79
+
+THE WREATH OF ROSES 83
+
+THE VICTORY OF THE EYE 87
+
+THE CUP 91
+
+CUPID DISARMED 95
+
+THE MIRROR 99
+
+THE CHAPLET OF FLOWERS 103
+
+THE TRUE WEALTH 107
+
+THE POWER OF WINE 111
+
+SONG AND DANCE 115
+
+THE PORTRAIT 119
+
+BATHYLLUS 123
+
+THE RANSOM OF CUPID 127
+
+THE FAIR FUGITIVE 131
+
+THE LILY AND THE ROSE 135
+
+EUROPA AND THE BULL 139
+
+ANACREON DEFYING THE PHILOSOPHER 143
+
+THE GRACES AND SPRING 147
+
+THE SUMMONS TO FESTIVITY 151
+
+THE BOWL OF WINE 155
+
+VOWS TO VENUS 159
+
+CUPID STUNG 163
+
+THE DANCE OF MIRTH 167
+
+THE FRONTLET OF HYACINTH 171
+
+CAUGHT BY LOVE 175
+
+THE LEMNIAN CAVE 179
+
+THE EVERGREEN HEART 183
+
+THE BLUSHING YEAR 187
+
+THE QUEEN OF LOVE 191
+
+THE ROSE 195
+
+YOUTH AND DANCE 199
+
+THE LOVER'S EYES 203
+
+SPRING 207
+
+VISION OF THE TEIAN BARD 211
+
+THE HARP 215
+
+BACCHANTS 219
+
+CUPID IN THE GOBLET 223
+
+
+
+
+_ODE I._
+
+
+    I often wish this languid lyre,
+    This warbler of my soul's desire,
+    Could raise the breath of song sublime,
+    To men of fame in former time.
+    But when the soaring theme I try,
+    Along the chords my numbers die,
+    And whisper, with dissolving tone,
+    'Our sighs are given to love alone!'
+    Indignant at the feeble lay,
+    I tore the panting chords away,
+    Attuned them to a nobler swell,
+    And struck again the breathing shell;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    In all the glow of epic fire,
+    To Hercules I wake the lyre!
+    But still its fainting sighs repeat,
+    'The tale of love alone is sweet!'
+    Then fare thee well, seductive dream,
+    That madest me follow Glory's theme;
+    For thou my lyre, and thou my heart,
+    Shall never more in spirit part;
+    And thou the flame shalt feel as well
+    As thou the flame shalt sweetly tell.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE II._
+
+
+    To all that breathe the airs of heaven,
+    Some boon of strength has Nature given.
+    When the majestic bull was born,
+    She fenced his brow with wreathed horn.
+    She arm'd the courser's foot of air,
+    And wing'd with speed the panting hare.
+    She gave the lion fangs of terror,
+    And, on the ocean's crystal mirror,
+    Taught the unnumber'd scaly throng
+    To trace their liquid path along;
+    While for the umbrage of the grove,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    She plumed the warbling bird of love.
+    To man she gave the flame refined,
+    The spark of heaven--a thinking mind!
+    And had she no surpassing treasure,
+    For thee, oh woman! child of pleasure?
+    She gave thee beauty--shaft of eyes,
+    That every shaft of war outflies!
+    She gave thee beauty--blush of fire,
+    That bids the flames of war retire!
+    Woman! be fair, we must adore thee;
+    Smile, and a world is weak before thee!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE III._
+
+
+    'Twas noon of night, when round the pole
+    The sullen Bear is seen to roll;
+    And mortals, wearied with the day,
+    Are slumbering all their cares away;
+    An infant, at that dreary hour,
+    Came weeping to my silent bower,
+    And waked me with a piteous prayer,
+    To save him from the midnight air!
+    'And who art thou,' I waking cry,
+    'That bidd'st my blissful visions fly?'
+    'O gentle sire!' the infant said,
+    'In pity take me to thy shed;
+    Nor fear deceit: a lonely child
+    I wander o'er the gloomy wild.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Chill drops the rain, and not a ray
+    Illumes the drear and misty way!'
+    I hear the baby's tale of woe;
+    I hear the bitter night-winds blow;
+    And sighing for his piteous fate,
+    I trimm'd my lamp and oped the gate.
+    'Twas Love! the little wandering sprite,
+    His pinion sparkled through the night!
+    I knew him by his bow and dart;
+    I knew him by my fluttering heart!
+    I take him in, and fondly raise
+    The dying embers' cheering blaze;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Press from his dank and clinging hair
+    The crystals of the freezing air,
+    And in my hand and bosom hold
+    His little fingers thrilling cold.
+    And now the embers' genial ray
+    Had warm'd his anxious fears away:
+    'I pray thee,' said the wanton child,
+    (My bosom trembled as he smiled,)
+    'I pray thee let me try my bow,
+    For through the rain I've wander'd so,
+    That much I fear the ceaseless shower
+    Has injured its elastic power.'
+    The fatal bow the urchin drew;
+    Swift from the string the arrow flew;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Oh! swift it flew as glancing flame
+    And to my very soul it came!
+    'Fare thee well,' I heard him say,
+    As laughing wild he wing'd away:
+    'Fare thee well, for now I know
+    The rain has not relax'd my bow;
+    It still can send a maddening dart,
+    As thou shalt own with all thy heart!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE IV._
+
+
+    Strew me a breathing bed of leaves,
+    Where lotos with the myrtle weaves;
+    And while in luxury's dream I sink,
+    Let me the balm of Bacchus drink!
+    In this delicious hour of joy,
+    Young Love shall be my goblet-boy;
+    Folding his little golden vest,
+    With cinctures, round his snowy breast,
+    Himself shall hover by my side,
+    And minister the racy tide!
+    Swift as the wheels that kindling roll,
+    Our life is hurrying to the goal:
+    A scanty dust, to feed the wind,
+    Is all the trace 'twill leave behind.
+    Why do we shed the rose's bloom
+    Upon the cold insensate tomb?
+    Can flowery breeze, or odour's breath,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Affect the slumbering chill of death?
+    No, no; I ask no balm to steep
+    With fragrant tears my bed of sleep:
+    But now, while every pulse is glowing,
+    Now let me breathe the balsam flowing;
+    Now let the rose, with blush of fire,
+    Upon my brow its scent expire;
+    And bring the nymph with floating eye,--
+    Oh! she will teach me how to die!
+    Yes, Cupid! ere my soul retire,
+    To join the blest elysian choir,
+    With wine, and love, and blisses dear,
+    I'll make my own elysium here!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE V._
+
+
+    Buds of roses, virgin flowers,
+    Cull'd from Cupid's balmy bowers,
+    In the bowl of Bacchus steep,
+    Till with crimson drops they weep!
+    Twine the rose, the garland twine,
+    Every leaf distilling wine;
+    Drink and smile, and learn to think
+    That we were born to smile and drink.
+    Rose! thou art the sweetest flower
+    That ever drank the amber shower;
+    Rose! thou art the fondest child
+    Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild!
+    E'en the gods, who walk the sky,
+    Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
+    Cupid too, in Paphian shades,
+    His hair with rosy fillet braids,
+    When with the blushing naked Graces,
+    The wanton winding dance he traces.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Then bring me showers of roses, bring,
+    And shed them round me while I sing:
+    Great Bacchus! in thy hallow'd shade,
+    With some celestial, glowing maid,
+    While gales of roses round me rise,
+    In perfume, sweeten'd by her sighs,
+    I'll bill and twine in airy dance,
+    Commingling soul with every glance!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VI._
+
+
+    While our rosy fillets shed
+    Blushes o'er each fervid head,
+    With many a cup and many a smile
+    The festal moments we beguile.
+    And while the harp, impassion'd, flings
+    Tuneful rapture from the strings,
+    Some airy nymph, with fluent limbs,
+    Through the dance luxuriant swims,
+    Waving, in her snowy hand,
+    The leafy Bacchanalian wand,
+    Which, as the tripping wanton flies,
+    Shakes its tresses to her sighs;
+    A youth the while, with loosen'd hair,
+    Floating on the listless air,
+    Sings to the wild harp's tender tone,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    A tale of woes, alas! his own;
+    And then what nectar in his sigh,
+    As o'er his lip the murmurs die!
+    Surely never yet has been
+    So divine, so blest a scene!
+    Has Cupid left the starry sphere,
+    To wave his golden tresses here?
+    Oh yes! and Venus, queen of wiles,
+    And Bacchus, shedding rosy smiles,
+    All, all are here, to hail with me
+    The genius of festivity!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VII._
+
+
+    Arm'd with hyacinthine rod,
+    (Arms enough for such a god,)
+    Cupid bade me wing my pace,
+    And try with him the rapid race,
+    O'er the wild torrent, rude and deep.
+    By tangled brake and pendent steep,
+    With weary foot I panting flew,
+    My brow was chill with drops of dew.
+    And now my soul, exhausted, dying,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    To my lip was faintly flying;
+    And now I thought the spark had fled,
+    When Cupid hover'd o'er my head,
+    And fanning light his breezy plume,
+    Recall'd me from my languid gloom;
+    Then said, in accents half-reproving,
+    'Why hast thou been a foe to loving?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE VIII._
+
+
+    'Twas night, and many a circling bowl
+    Had deeply warmed my swimming soul;
+    As lull'd in slumber I was laid,
+    Bright visions o'er my fancy play'd!
+    With virgins blooming as the dawn,
+    I seem'd to trace the opening lawn;
+    Light, on tiptoe bathed in dew,
+    We flew, and sported as we flew!
+    Some ruddy striplings, young and sleek,
+    With blush of Bacchus on their cheek,
+    Saw me trip the flowery wild
+    With dimpled girls, and slily smiled;
+    Smiled indeed with wanton glee,
+    But, ah! 'twas plain they envied me.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And still I flew--and now I caught
+    The panting nymphs, and fondly thought
+    To kiss--when all my dream of joys,
+    Dimpled girls and ruddy boys,
+    All were gone! 'Alas!' I said,
+    Sighing for the illusions fled,
+    'Sleep! again my joys restore,
+    Oh! let me dream them o'er and o'er!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE IX._
+
+
+    Tell me, why, my sweetest dove,
+    Thus your humid pinions move,
+    Shedding through the air in showers
+    Essence of the balmiest flowers?
+    Tell me whither, whence you rove,
+    Tell me all, my sweetest dove.--
+    Curious stranger! I belong
+    To the bard of Teian song:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    With his mandate now I fly
+    To the nymph of azure eye;
+    Ah! that eye has madden'd many,
+    But the poet more than any!
+    Venus, for a hymn of love,
+    Warbled in her votive grove,
+    ('Twas in sooth a gentle lay,)
+    Gave me to the bard away.
+    See me now his faithful minion,
+    Thus with softly-gliding pinion,
+    To his lovely girl I bear
+    Songs of passion through the air.
+    Oft he blandly whispers me,
+    'Soon, my bird, I'll set you free.'
+    But in vain he'll bid me fly,
+    I shall serve him till I die.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Never could my plumes sustain
+    Ruffling winds and chilling rain,
+    O'er the plains, or in the dell,
+    On the mountain's savage swell;
+    Seeking in the desert wood
+    Gloomy shelter, rustic food.
+    Now I lead a life of ease,
+    Far from such retreats as these;
+    From Anacreon's hand I eat
+    Food delicious, viands sweet;
+    Flutter o'er his goblet's brim,
+    Sip the foamy wine with him.
+    Then I dance and wanton round
+    To the lyre's beguiling sound;
+    Or with gently-fanning wings
+    Shade the minstrel while he sings:
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    On his harp then sink in slumbers,
+    Dreaming still of dulcet numbers!
+    This is all--away--away--
+    You have made me waste the day.
+    How I've chatter'd! prating crow
+    Never yet did chatter so.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE X._
+
+
+    '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!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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 XI._
+
+
+    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,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    As onward to the tomb I steal,
+    That still as death approaches 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 XII._
+
+
+    I will; I will; the conflict's past,
+    And I'll consent to love at last.
+    Cupid has long, with smiling art,
+    Invited me to yield my heart;
+    And I have thought that peace of mind
+    Should not be for a smile resign'd;
+    And I've repell'd the tender lure,
+    And hoped my heart should sleep secure.
+    But, slighted in his boasted charms,
+    The angry infant flew to arms;
+    He slung his quiver's golden frame,
+    He took his bow, his shafts of flame,
+    And proudly summon'd me to yield,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Or meet him on the martial field.
+    And what did I unthinking do?
+    I took to arms, undaunted too;
+    Assumed the corslet, shield, and spear,
+    And, like Pelides, smiled at fear.
+    Then (hear it, all you powers above!)
+    I fought with Love! I fought with Love!
+    And now his arrows all were shed
+    And I had just in terrors fled--
+    When heaving an indignant sigh
+    To see me thus unwounded fly,
+    And having now no other dart,
+    He glanced himself into my heart!
+    My heart--alas the luckless day!
+    Received the god, and died away.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Farewell, farewell, my faithless shield!
+    Thy lord at length is forced to yield.
+    Vain, vain, is every outward care,
+    My foe's within, and triumphs there.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XIII._
+
+
+    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,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let us the festal hours beguile
+    With mantling cup and cordial smile;
+    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 XIV._
+
+
+    Thy harp may sing of Troy's alarms,
+    Or tell the tale of Theban arms;
+    With other wars my song shall burn,
+    For other wounds my harp shall mourn.
+    'Twas not the crested warrior's dart,
+    Which drank the current of my heart;
+    Nor naval arms, nor mailed steed,
+    Have made this vanquish'd bosom bleed;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    No--from an eye of liquid blue,
+    A host of quiver'd cupids flew;
+    And now my heart all bleeding lies
+    Beneath this army of the eyes!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XV_.
+
+
+    Grave me a cup with brilliant grace,
+    Deep as the rich and holy vase,
+    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;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Nor any tale of tragic fate,
+    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;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVI._
+
+
+    The Phrygian rock that braves the storm,
+    Was once a weeping matron's form;
+    And Progne, hapless, frantic maid,
+    Is now a swallow in the shade.
+    Oh! that a mirror's form were mine,
+    To sparkle with that smile divine;
+    And like my heart I then should be,
+    Reflecting thee, and only thee!
+    Or were I, love, the robe which flows
+    O'er every charm that secret glows,
+    In many a lucid fold to swim,
+    And cling and grow to every limb!
+    Oh! could I, as the streamlet's wave,
+    Thy warmly-mellowing beauties lave,
+    Or float as perfume on thine hair,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And breathe my soul in fragrance there!
+    I wish I were the zone, that lies
+    Warm to thy breast, and feels its sighs!
+    Or like those envious pearls that show
+    So faintly round that neck of snow,
+    Yes, I would be a happy gem,
+    Like them to hang, to fade like them.
+    What more would thy Anacreon be?
+    Oh! anything that touches thee.
+    Nay, sandals for those airy feet--
+    Thus to be press'd by thee were sweet!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVII._
+
+
+    Now the star of day is high,
+    Fly, my girls, in pity fly,
+    Bring me wine in brimming urns,
+    Cool my lip, it burns, it burns!
+    Sunn'd by the meridian fire,
+    Panting, languid I expire!
+    Give me all those humid flowers,
+    Drop them o'er my brow in showers.
+    Scarce a breathing chaplet now
+    Lives upon my feverish brow;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Every dewy rose I wear
+    Sheds its tears and withers there.
+    But for you, my burning mind!
+    Oh! what shelter shall I find?
+    Can the bowl, or floweret's dew,
+    Cool the flame that scorches you?
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XVIII._
+
+
+    If hoarded gold possess'd a power
+    To lengthen life's too fleeting hour,
+    And purchase from the land of death
+    A little span, a moment's breath,
+    How I would love the precious ore!
+    And every day should swell my store;
+    That when the Fates would send their minion,
+    To waft me off on shadowy pinion,
+    I might some hours of life obtain,
+    And bribe him back to hell again.
+    But, since we ne'er can charm away
+    The mandate of that awful day,
+    Why do we vainly weep at fate,
+    And sigh for life's uncertain date?
+    The light of gold can ne'er illume
+    The dreary midnight of the tomb!
+    And why should I then pant for treasures?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Mine be the brilliant round of pleasures;
+    The goblet rich, the board of friends,
+    Whose flowing souls the goblet blends:
+    Mine be the nymph, whose form reposes
+    Seductive on that bed of roses;
+    And oh! be mine the soul's excess,
+    Expiring in her warm caress!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XIX._
+
+
+    When my thirsty soul I steep,
+    Every sorrow's lull'd to sleep.
+    Talk of monarchs! I am then
+    Richest, happiest, first of men;
+    Careless, o'er my cup I sing,
+    Fancy makes me more than king;
+    Gives me wealthy Croesus' store,
+    Can I, can I wish for more?
+    On my velvet couch reclining,
+    Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
+    While my soul dilates with glee,
+    What are kings and crowns to me?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    If before my feet they lay,
+    I would spurn them all away!
+    Arm you, arm you, men of might,
+    Hasten to the sanguine fight;
+    Let me, oh my budding vine,
+    Spill no other blood than thine.
+    Yonder brimming goblet see,
+    That alone shall vanquish me.
+    Oh! I think it sweeter far
+    To fall in banquet than in war!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XX._
+
+
+    When Bacchus, Jove's immortal boy,
+    The rosy harbinger of joy,
+    Who, with the sunshine of the bowl,
+    Thaws the winter of our soul;
+    When to the inmost core he glides,
+    And bathes it with his ruby tides,
+    A flow of joy, a lively heat,
+    Fires my brain, and wings my feet;
+    'Tis surely something sweet, I think,
+    Nay, something heavenly sweet, to drink!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Sing, sing of love, let music's breath
+    Softly beguile our rapturous death,
+    While, my young Venus, thou and I
+    To the voluptuous cadence die!
+    Then waking from our languid trance,
+    Again we'll sport, again we'll dance.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXI._
+
+
+    Thou, whose soft and rosy hues,
+    Mimic form and soul infuse;
+    Best of painters! come portray
+    The lovely maid that's far away.
+    Far away, my soul! thou art,
+    But I've thy beauties all by heart.
+    Paint her jetty ringlets straying,
+    Silky twine in tendrils playing;
+    And, if painting hath the skill
+    To make the spicy balm distil,
+    Let every little lock exhale
+    A sigh of perfume on the gale.
+    Where her tresses' curly flow
+    Darkles o'er the brow of snow,
+    Let her forehead beam to light,
+    Burnish'd as the ivory bright.
+    Let her eyebrows sweetly rise
+    In jetty arches o'er her eyes,
+    Gently in her crescent gliding,
+    Just commingling, just dividing.
+    But hast thou any sparkles warm,
+    The lightning of her eyes to form?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let them effuse the azure ray
+    With which Minerva's glances play,
+    And give them all that liquid fire
+    That Venus' languid eyes respire.
+    O'er her nose and cheek be shed
+    Flushing white and mellow'd red;
+    Gradual tints, as when there glows
+    In snowy milk the bashful rose.
+    Then her lip, so rich in blisses!
+    Sweet petitioner for kisses!
+    Pouting nest of bland persuasion,
+    Ripely suing Love's invasion.
+    Then beneath the velvet chin,
+    Whose dimple shades a love within,
+    Mould her neck with grace descending.
+    In a heaven of beauty ending;
+    While airy charms, above, below,
+    Sport and flutter on its snow.
+    Now let a floating, lucid veil,
+    Shadow her limbs, but not, conceal;
+    A charm may peep, a hue may beam,
+    And leave the rest to Fancy's dream.
+    Enough--'tis she! 'tis all I seek;
+    It glows, it lives, it soon will speak.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXII._
+
+    And now with all thy pencil's truth,
+    Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth!
+    Let his hair in lapses bright,
+    Fall like streaming rays of light,
+    And there the raven's dye confuse
+    With the yellow sunbeam's hues.
+    Let not the braid, with artful twine,
+    The flowing of his locks confine;
+    But loosen every golden ring,
+    To float upon the breeze's wing,
+    Beneath the front of polished glow.
+    Front as fair as mountain-snow,
+    And guileless as the dews of dawn,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Let the majestic brows be drawn,
+    Of ebon dies, enriched by gold,
+    Such as the scaly snakes unfold.
+    Mingle in his jetty glances,
+    Power that awes, and love that trances;
+    Steal from Venus bland desire,
+    Steal from Mars the look of fire,
+    Blend them in such expression here,
+    That we by turns may hope and fear!
+    Now from the sunny apple seek
+    The velvet down that spreads his cheek;
+    And there let Beauty's rosy ray
+    In flying blushes richly play;
+    Blushes, of that celestial flame
+    Which lights the cheek of virgin shame.
+    Then for his lips, that ripely gem--
+    But let thy mind imagine them!
+    Paint, where the ruby cell uncloses,
+    Persuasion sleeping upon roses;
+    And give his lip that speaking air,
+    As if a word was hovering there!
+    His neck of ivory splendour trace,
+    Moulded with soft but manly grace;
+    Fair as the neck of Paphia's boy,
+    Where Paphia's arms have hung in joy.
+    Give him the winged Hermes' hand.
+    With which he waves his snaky wand:
+    Let Bacchus then the breast supply,
+    And Leda's son the sinewy thigh.
+    But oh! suffuse his limbs of fire
+    With all that glow of young desire,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Which kindles, when the wishful sigh
+    Steals from the heart, unconscious why.
+    Thy pencil, though divinely bright,
+    Is envious of the eye's delight,
+    Or its enamoured touch would shew
+    His shoulder, fair as sunless snow,
+    Which now in veiling shadow lies,
+    Removed from all but Fancy's eyes,
+    Now, for his feet--but hold--forbear--
+    I see a godlike portrait there;
+    So like Bathyllus! sure there's none
+    So like Bathyllus but the Sun!
+    Oh! let this pictured god be mine,
+    And keep the boy for Samos' shrine;
+    Phoebus shall then Bathyllus be,
+    Bathyllus then the deity!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIII._
+
+
+    One day, the Muses twined the hands
+    Of baby Love, with flowery bands;
+    And to celestial Beauty gave
+    The captive infant as her slave.
+    His mother comes with many a toy,
+    To ransom her beloved boy;
+    His mother sues, but all in vain!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    He ne'er will leave his chains again.
+    Nay, should they take his chains away,
+    The little captive still would stay.
+    'If this,' he cries, 'a bondage be,
+    Who could wish for liberty?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIV._
+
+
+    Fly not thus my brow of snow,
+    Lovely wanton! fly not so.
+    Though the wane of age is mine,
+    Though the brilliant flush is thine,
+    Still I'm doom'd to sigh for thee,
+    Blest, if thou couldst sigh for me!
+    See, in yonder flowery braid,
+    Cull'd for thee, my blushing maid,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    How the rose, of orient glow,
+    Mingles with the lily's snow;
+    Mark, how sweet their tints agree,
+    Just, my girl, like thee and me!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXV._
+
+
+    Methinks, the pictur'd bull we see
+    Is amorous Jove--it must be he!
+    How fondly blest he seems to bear
+    That fairest of Phoenician fair!
+    How proud he breasts the foamy tide
+    And spurns the billowy surge aside!
+    Could any beast of vulgar vein,
+    Undaunted thus defy the main?
+    No: he descends from climes above,
+    He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVI._
+
+
+    Away, away, you men of rules,
+    What have I to do with schools?
+    They'd make me learn, they'd make me think,
+    But would they make me love and drink?
+    Teach me this; and let me swim
+    My soul upon the goblet's brim;
+    Teach me this, and let me twine
+    My arms around the nymph divine!
+    Age begins to blanch my brow,
+    I've time for nought but pleasure now.
+    Fly, and cool my goblet's glow
+    At yonder fountain's gelid flow;
+    I'll quaff, my boy, and calmly sink
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    This soul to slumber as I drink!
+    Soon, too soon, my jocund slave,
+    You'll deck your master's grassy grave;
+    And there's an end--for ah! you know
+    They drink but little wine below!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVII._
+
+
+    See the young, the rosy Spring,
+    Gives to the breeze her spangled wing;
+    While virgin Graces, warm with May,
+    Fling roses o'er her dewy way!
+    The murmuring billows of the deep
+    Have languished into silent sleep;
+    And mark! the flitting sea-birds lave
+    Their plumes in the reflecting wave;
+    While cranes from hoary winter fly
+    To flutter in a kinder sky.
+    Now the genial star of day
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Dissolves the murky clouds away;
+    And cultur'd field, and winding stream,
+    Are sweetly tissued by his beam.
+    Now the earth prolific swells
+    With leafy buds and flowery bells;
+    Gemming shoots the olive twine,
+    Clusters ripe festoon the vine;
+    All along the branches creeping,
+    Through the velvet foliage peeping,
+    Little infant fruits we see
+    Nursing into luxury!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXVIII._
+
+
+    'Tis true, my fading years decline,
+    Yet I can quaff the brimming wine,
+    As deep as any stripling fair,
+    Whose cheeks the flush of morning wear;
+    And if, amidst the wanton crew,
+    I'm call'd to wind the dance's clue,
+    Thou shall behold this vigorous hand,
+    Not faltering on the Bacchant's wand,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    But brandishing a rosy flask,
+    The only Thyrsus e'er I'll ask!
+    Let those who pant for Glory's charms,
+    Embrace her in the held of arms;
+    While my inglorious placid soul
+    Breathes not a wish beyond the bowl.
+
+    Then fill it high, my ruddy slave,
+    And bathe me in its honied wave!
+    For though my fading years decay,
+    And though my bloom has passed away,
+    Like old Silenus, sire divine,
+    With blushes borrowed from my wine,
+    I'll wanton 'mid the dancing train,
+    And live my follies all again!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXIX._
+
+
+    When I drink, I feel, I feel,
+    Visions of poetic zeal!
+    Warm with the goblet's fresh'ning dews,
+    My heart invokes the heavenly Muse.
+    When I drink my sorrow's o'er;
+    I think of doubts and fears no more;
+    But scatter to the railing wind
+    Each gloomy phantom of the mind!
+    When I drink, the jesting boy
+    Bacchus himself partakes my joy;
+    And while we dance through breathing bowers,
+    Whose every gale is rich with flowers,
+    In bowls he makes my senses swim,
+    Till the gale breathes of nought but him!
+    When I drink, I deftly twine
+    Flowers, begemm'd with tears of wine;
+    And, while with festive hand I spread
+    The smiling garland round my head,
+    Something whispers in my breast,
+    How sweet it is to live at rest!
+    When I drink, and perfume stills
+    Around me all in balmy rills,
+    Then as some beauty, smiling roses,
+    In languor on my breast reposes,
+    Venus! I breathe my vows to thee,
+    In many a sigh of luxury!
+    When I drink, my heart refines,
+    And rises as the cup declines;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Rises in the genial flow,
+    That none but social spirits know,
+    When youthful revellers round the bowl,
+    Dilating, mingle soul with soul!
+    When I drink, the bliss is mine;
+    There's bliss in every drop of wine!
+    All other joys that I have known,
+    I've scarcely dared to call my own;
+    But this the Fates can ne'er destroy,
+    Till death o'ershadows all my joy!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXX._
+
+
+    Cupid once upon a bed
+    Of roses laid his weary head;
+    Luckless urchin, not to see
+    Within the leaves a slumbering bee!
+    The bee awaked--with anger wild
+    The bee awaked, and stung the child.
+    Loud and piteous are his cries;
+    To Venus quick he runs, he flies!
+    'Oh, mother!--I am wounded through--
+    I die with pain--in sooth I do!
+    Stung by some little angry thing,
+    Some serpent on a tiny wing--
+    A bee it was--for once, I know
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    I heard a rustic call it so.'
+    Thus he spoke, and she the while
+    Heard him with a soothing smile;
+    Then said, 'My infant, if so much
+    Thou feel the little wild-bee's touch,
+    How must the heart, ah, Cupid! be,
+    The hapless heart that's stung by thee?'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXI._
+
+
+    Let us drain the nectar'd bowl,
+    Let us raise the song of soul
+    To him, the God who loves so well
+    The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!
+    Him, who instructs the sons of earth
+    To thrid the tangled dance of mirth;
+    Him, who was nursed with infant Love,
+    And cradled in the Paphian grove;
+    Him, that the snowy Queen of Charms
+    Has fondled in her twining arms.
+    From him that dream of transport flows,
+    Which sweet intoxication knows;
+    With him, the brow forgets to darkle,
+    And brilliant graces learn to sparkle.
+    Behold! my boys a goblet bear,
+    Whose sunny foam bedews the air.
+    Where are now the tear, the sigh?
+    To the winds they fly, they fly!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Grasp the bowl; in nectar sinking,
+    Man of sorrow, drown thy thinking!
+    Oh! can the tears we lend to thought
+    In life's account avail us aught?
+    Can we discern, with all our lore,
+    The path we're yet to journey o'er?
+    No, no! the walk of life is dark;
+    'Tis wine alone can strike a spark!
+    Then let me quaff the foamy tide,
+    And through the dance meandering glide;
+    Let me imbibe the spicy breath
+    Of odours chafed to fragrant death;
+    Or from the kiss of love inhale
+    A more voluptuous, richer gale!
+    To souls that court the phantom
+    Care, Let him retire and shroud him there;
+    While we exhaust the nectar'd bowl,
+    And swell the choral song of soul
+    To him, the God who loves so well
+    The nectar'd bowl, the choral swell!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXII._
+
+
+    Yes, be the glorious revel mine,
+    Where humour sparkles from the wine!
+    Around me let the youthful choir
+    Respond to my beguiling lyre;
+    And while the red cup circles round,
+    Mingle in soul as well as sound!
+    Let the bright nymph, with trembling eye,
+    Beside me all in blushes lie;
+    And, while she weaves a frontlet fair
+    Of hyacinth to deck my hair,
+    Oh! let me snatch her sidelong kisses,
+    And that shall be my bliss of blisses!
+    My soul, to festive feeling true,
+    One pang of envy never knew;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And little has it learn'd to dread
+    The gall that envy's tongue can shed.
+    Away--I hate the slanderous dart,
+    Which steals to wound th' unwary heart;
+    And oh! I hate, with all my soul,
+    Discordant clamours o'er the bowl,
+    Where every cordial heart should be
+    Attuned to peace and harmony.
+    Come, let us hear the soul of song
+    Expire the silver harp along;
+    And through the dance's ringlet move,
+    With maidens mellowing into love:
+    Thus simply happy, thus at peace,
+    Sure such a life should never cease!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIII._
+
+
+    'Twas in an airy dream of night,
+    I fancied that I wing'd my flight
+    On pinions fleeter than the wind,
+    While little Love, whose feet were twined
+    (I know not why) with chains of lead,
+    Pursued me as I trembling fled;
+    Pursued--and could I e'er have thought?--
+    Swift as the moment I was caught!
+    What does the wanton fancy mean
+    By such a strange, illusive scene?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    I fear she whispers to my breast,
+    That you, my girl, have stol'n my rest;
+    That though my fancy, for a while,
+    Has hung on many a woman's smile,
+    I soon dissolved the passing vow,
+    And ne'er was caught by love till now!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIV._
+
+
+    As in the Lemnian caves of fire,
+    The mate of her who nursed Desire
+    Moulded the glowing steel, to form
+    Arrows for Cupid, thrilling warm;
+    While Venus every barb imbues
+    With droppings of her honied dews;
+    And Love (alas the victim-heart!)
+    Tinges with gall the burning dart;
+    Once, to this Lemnian cave of flame,
+    The crested Lord of battles came;
+    'Twas from the ranks of war he rush'd,
+    His spear with many a life-drop blush'd!
+    He saw the mystic darts, and smiled
+    Derision on the archer-child.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    'And dost thou smile?' said little Love;
+    'Take this dart, and thou mayst prove,
+    That though they pass the breeze's flight,
+    My bolts are not so feathery light.'
+    He took the shaft--and oh! thy look,
+    Sweet Venus! when the shaft he took--
+    He sigh'd, and felt the urchin's art;
+    He sigh'd, in agony of heart,
+    'It is not light--I die with pain!
+    Take--take thy arrow back again.'
+    'No,' said the child, 'it must not be,
+    That little dart was made for thee!'
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXV._
+
+
+    How I love the festive boy,
+    Tripping wild the dance of joy!
+    How I love the mellow sage,
+    Smiling through the veil of age!
+    And whene'er this man of years
+    In the dance of joy appears,
+    Age is on his temples hung,
+    But his heart--his heart is young!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVI._
+
+
+    He, who instructs the youthful crew
+    To bathe them in the brimmer's dew,
+    And taste, uncloy'd by rich excesses,
+    All the bliss that wine possesses!
+    He, who inspires the youth to glance
+    In winged circlets through the dance;
+    Bacchus, the god again is here,
+    And leads along the blushing year;
+    The blushing year with rapture teems,
+    Ready to shed those cordial streams,
+    Which, sparkling in the cup of mirth,
+    Illuminate the sons of earth,
+    And when the ripe and vermeil wine,
+    Sweet infant of the pregnant vine,
+    Which now in mellow clusters swells,
+    Oh! when it bursts its rosy cells,
+    The heavenly stream shall mantling flow,
+    To balsam every mortal woe!
+    No youth shall then be wan or weak,
+    For dimpling health shall light the cheek;
+    No heart shall then desponding sigh,
+    For wine shall bid despondence fly!
+    Thus--till another autumn's glow
+    Shall bid another vintage flow!
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVII._
+
+
+    And whose immortal hand could shed
+    Upon this disk the ocean's bed?
+    And, in a frenzied flight of soul
+    Sublime as heaven's eternal pole,
+    Imagine thus, in semblance warm,
+    The Queen of Love's voluptuous form
+    Floating along the silvery sea
+    In beauty's naked majesty!
+    Oh! he has given the raptured sight
+    A witching banquet of delight;
+    And all those sacred scenes of love,
+    Where only hallow'd eyes may rove,
+    Lie, faintly glowing, half conceal'd,
+    Within the lucid billows veil'd.
+    Light as the leaf, that summer's breeze
+    Has wafted o'er the glassy seas,
+    She floats upon the ocean's breast,
+    Which undulates in sleepy rest,
+    And stealing on, she gently pillows
+    Her bosom on the amorous billows.
+    Her bosom, like the humid rose,
+    Her neck, like dewy-sparkling snows,
+    Illume the liquid path she traces,
+    And burn within the stream's embraces!
+    In languid luxury soft she glides,
+    Encircled by the azure tides,
+    Like some fair lily, faint with weeping,
+    Upon a bed of violets sleeping!
+    Beneath their queen's inspiring glance,
+    The dolphins o'er the green sea dance,
+    Bearing in triumph young Desire,
+    And baby Love with smiles of fire!
+    While, sparkling on the silver waves,
+    The tenants of the briny caves
+    Around the pomp in eddies play,
+    And gleam along the watery way.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXVIII._
+
+
+    While we invoke the wreathed spring,
+    Resplendent rose! to thee we'll sing;
+    Resplendent rose, the flower of flowers,
+    Whose breath perfumes Olympus' bowers;
+    Whose virgin blush of chasten'd dye,
+    Enchants so much our mortal eye.
+    When pleasure's bloomy season glows,
+    The Graces love to twine the rose;
+    The rose is warm Dione's bliss,
+    And flushes like Dione's kiss!
+    Oft has the poet's magic tongue
+    The rose's fair luxuriance sung;
+    And long the Muses, heavenly maids,
+    Have rear'd it in their tuneful shades.
+    When, at the early glance of morn,
+    It sleeps upon the glittering thorn,
+    'Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,
+    To cull the timid flowret thence,
+    And wipe with tender hand away
+    The tear that on its blushes lay!
+    'Tis sweet to hold the infant stems,
+    Yet dropping with Aurora's gems,
+    And fresh inhale the spicy sighs
+    That from the weeping buds arise.
+    When revel reigns, when mirth is high,
+    And Bacchus beams in every eye,
+    Our rosy fillets scent exhale,
+    And fill with balm the fainting gale!
+    Oh! there is nought in nature bright,
+    Where roses do not shed their light!
+    When morning paints the orient skies,
+    Her fingers burn with roseate dyes;
+    The nymphs display the rose's charms,
+    It mantles o'er their graceful arms;
+    Through Cytherea's form it glows,
+    And mingles with the living snows.
+    The rose distils a healing balm,
+    The beating pulse of pain to calm;
+    Preserves the cold inurned clay,
+    And mocks the vestige of decay:
+    And when at length, in pale decline,
+    Its florid beauties fade and pine,
+    Sweet as in youth, its balmy breath
+    Diffuses odour e'en in death!
+    Oh! whence could such a plant have sprung?
+    Attend--for thus the tale is sung.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    When, humid, from the silvery stream,
+    Effusing beauty's warmest beam,
+    Venus appear'd, in flushing hues,
+    Mellow'd by ocean's briny dews;
+    When, in the starry courts above,
+    The pregnant brain of mighty Jove
+    Disclosed the nymph of azure glance,
+    The nymph who shakes the martial lance!
+    Then, then, in strange eventful hour,
+    The earth produced an infant flower,
+    Which sprung, with blushing tinctures drest,
+    And wanton'd o'er its parent breast.
+    The gods beheld this brilliant birth,
+    And hail'd the Rose, the boon of earth!
+    With nectar drops, a ruby tide,
+    The sweetly orient buds they dyed,
+    And bade them bloom, the flowers divine
+    Of him who sheds the teeming vine;
+    And bade them on the spangled thorn
+    Expand their bosoms to the morn.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XXXIX._
+
+
+    When I behold the festive train
+    Of dancing youth, I'm young again!
+    Memory wakes her magic trance,
+    And wings me lightly through the dance.
+    Come, Cybeba, smiling maid!
+    Cull the flower and twine the braid;
+    Bid the blush of summer's rose
+    Burn upon my brow of snows;
+    And let me, while the wild and young
+    Trip the mazy dance along,
+    Fling my heap of years away,
+    And be as wild, as young as they.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Hither haste, some cordial soul!
+    Give my lips the brimming bowl;
+    Oh! you will see this hoary sage
+    Forget his locks, forget his age.
+    He still can chant the festive hymn,
+    He still can kiss the goblet's brim;
+    He still can act the mellow raver,
+    And play the fool as sweet as ever!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XL._
+
+
+    We read the flying courser's name
+    Upon his side in marks of flame;
+    And, by their turban'd brows alone,
+    The warriors of the East are known.
+    But in the lover's glowing eyes,
+    The inlet to his bosom lies;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Thro' them we see the small faint mark,
+    Where Love has dropt his burning spark!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLI._
+
+
+    When Spring begems the dewy scene,
+    How sweet to walk the velvet green,
+    And hear the Zephyr's languid sighs,
+    As o'er the scented mead he flies!
+    How sweet to mark the pouting vine,
+    Ready to fall in tears of wine;
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    And with the maid, whose every sigh
+    Is love and bliss, entranced to lie
+    Where the imbowering branches meet--
+    Oh! is not this divinely sweet?
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLII._
+
+
+    I saw the smiling bard of pleasure,
+    The minstrel of the Teian measure;
+    'Twas in a vision of the night.
+    He beam'd upon my wond'ring sight;
+    I heard his voice, and warmly prest
+    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.
+    His lip exhaled, whene'er he sigh'd,
+    The fragrance of the racy tide;
+    And, as with weak and reeling feet,
+    He came my coral kiss to meet,
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    An infant, of the Cyprian band,
+    Guided him on with tender hand.
+    Quick from his glowing brows he drew
+    His 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 e'en his garland's touch
+    Can make the bosom love too much!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLIII._
+
+
+    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 right
+    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 th' elastic bound,
+    And reel us through the dance's round.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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!
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLIV._
+
+
+    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.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    Paint me next, if painting may
+    Such a theme as this pourtray,
+    All the happy heaven of love,
+    These elect of Cupid prove.
+
+
+
+
+_ODE XLV._
+
+
+    As late I sought the spangled bowers,
+    To cull a wreath of matin flowers,
+    Where many an early rose was weeping,
+    I found the urchin Cupid sleeping.
+    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.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    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.
+
+
+
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+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+In Ode III, beginning of last line on page 26, the word 'The' is mostly
+illegible and has been added by comparison with another version of the
+text.
+
+In Ode III, after the phrase 'my blissful visions fly?', the missing
+punctuation mark ' has been added.
+
+In Ode VII, after 'rapid race', period has been replaced with comma.
+
+In Ode X, after the phrase 'who murder sleep!' The single quotation mark
+' has been deleted.
+
+In Ode XXIII, after the phrase 'wish for liberty', the missing
+punctuation marks ?' have been added.
+
+There are three words with the [oe] ligature. This is normalised to 'oe'
+in the text file; in the HTML file the ligature has been retained.
+
+There is one word with the 'ae' ligature; this has been retained in both
+versions.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Odes of Anacreon, by Thomas Moore
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ODES OF ANACREON ***
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