NH 
 
Class, <CZ3 
 
 Book,, -h b ~fi S" 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 LI 1 3 
 
COLLECTIONS 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 GREEK ANTHOLOGY, 
 
 8(c. 
 
^k^c£LcT^A,<>^ * 
 
 COLLECTIONS 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 GREEK ANTHOLOGY; ST _ 
 
 AND FROM THE 
 
 PASTORAL, ELEGIAC, AND DRAMATIC POETS 
 
 GREECE. 
 
 BY THE REV. ROBERT BLAND, 
 
 AND OTHERS. 
 
 Callimachtts. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET, 
 
 BY W. BULMER AND CO. CLEVELAND-ROW. 
 
 1813. 
 
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TO THE 
 
 REVEREND HENRY DRURY, 
 
 OF HARROW, 
 THIS WORK IS INSCRIBED, 
 
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 EVERY SENTIMENT OF RESPECT FOR HIS 
 TALENTS, 
 
 REGARD FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Preface - - - p. i 
 
 Prologue - liii 
 
 Amatory - 1 
 
 Illustrations - - - 41 
 
 Convivial - -75 
 
 Illustrations - - -87 
 
 Moral - - - - 105 
 
 Illustrations - - - - 127 
 
 Moral. (From the Elegiac and Gnomic Poets) 179 
 
 Illustrations - - - 193 
 
 Moral. (From the Dramatic Poets) - - 217 
 
 Illustrations - - - 229 
 
 Extracts from the Grecian Drama - - 241 
 
 Illustrations - - 269 
 Funeral and Monumental 
 
 On Private Persons ... 283 
 
 On Poets and Illustrious Persons - - 297 
 
 Illustrations - - - 305 
 
 Descriptive - - - - 351 
 
 — — • — On Statues and Pictures - 362 
 
 Illustrations - 375 
 
 Dedicatory - - - - 421 
 
 Illustrations. ... . 4<29 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 - 
 
 Satirical and Humorous 
 
 p 447 
 
 Riddles - 
 
 466 
 
 Illustrations - 
 
 467 
 
 Epilogue ■ - 
 
 509 
 
 Index - 
 
 513 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 T h e merit to which the poems in the Greek 
 Anthology have a claim, consists generally in 
 the justness of a single thought conveyed in 
 harmonious language. Very little can be done 
 in the space of a few couplets, and it only re- 
 mains for the writer to do that little with grace. 
 The eye is fatigued with being raised too long 
 to gaze on rocks and precipices, and delights to 
 repose itself on the refreshing verdure and 
 gentle slopes of scenery less bold and daring. 
 In the same manner, the lover of poetry will 
 sometimes find a grateful pause from grandeur 
 and elevation, in the milder excellence of suavity 
 and softness. 
 
 The two great Epic Poets of antiquity have 
 been instructed to sing in English numbers; 
 and the smaller works which have been be- 
 
 b 
 
ii PREFACE. 
 
 queathed to us, have bad admirers and trans- 
 lators. Even Horace, the most versatile, who 
 illustrates the greatest variety of subjects with 
 expressions for ever new and varying, has fallen 
 in with persons hardy enough to attempt meeting 
 him in all the shapes which he assumes. The 
 Greek Anthology opens a wide, and almost an 
 untried field for further exertions ; and although 
 the present age may boast of no poets capable 
 of piercing deep into the regions made sacred 
 by ancient genius, yet we have those whose 
 taste may enable them to gather a few flowers 
 that grow by the way side, and preserve them 
 to their country. 
 
 There is a certain turn of thought in many of 
 the English fugitive pieces, which may easily 
 be traced to a Greek fountain. Such as that 
 with which Ben Jonson concludes his Epitaph 
 on Drayton. — He thus addresses the " pious 
 marble :" 
 
 ce And when thy ruins shall disclaim 
 To be the treasurer of his name, 
 His name, that cannot fade, shall be 
 An everlasting monument to thee/' 
 
 The following distich, inscribed by Ion to the 
 memory of Euripides, furnished the above : 
 
PREFACE. iii 
 
 Ou <tov pvwoL 7oS* sf , EupmSyj, «XX« <ru rovfa, 
 T*j cr>) yap So£>j ju,v>]/xa ro^ u^irsyzlui. 
 
 But our learned countryman commonly had re- 
 course to the ancients for thoughts and images ; 
 and he has been detected, by Mr. Cumberland, 
 a in poaching in an obscure collection of love- 
 letters, written in a most rhapsodical style," for 
 all the ideas transmitted to us in the well-known 
 song,* " Drink to me only with thine eyes." 
 One of the few translated Epigrams (that of 
 Simmias on the tomb of Sophocles) has been 
 naturalized in our language by every charm of 
 poetry and of music ; and the Observer contains 
 several others, which, although faithfully trans- 
 lated, are as easy and familiar as originals. 
 
 It is necessary to mention the impropriety of 
 combining in our minds with the word Epigram, 
 when applied to the poetry of the Greeks, 
 any of the ideas which that term is apt to 
 excite in the mind of a mere English scholar, 
 or one who is conversant only with those works 
 
 * For this popular song, to which Jonson had so long 
 stood father, he was indebted to a pretty, although conceited 
 turn of thought, in the twenty-fourth letter of the sophist 
 Philostratus ; e^oi h poms Trpomve toi$ opfMuriv, &c. the 
 version is literal. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 of Martial and Ausonius, among the ancient 
 Epigrammatists. It is owing chiefly to this 
 impropriety, that those beautiful remains of an- 
 tiquity are so little known to the English reader, 
 and that so few have been familiarized to him 
 through the medium of translation. 
 
 They relate to subjects that will be inter- 
 esting and affecting as long as youth and gaiety 
 delight, as wine and music and beauty capti- 
 vate ; or the contrary ideas of old age and 
 death, sickness, banishment, neglected love, or 
 forsaken friendship, can melt into sorrow, or 
 chasten into melancholy. 
 
 The term Epigram, which literally signifies 
 an Inscription, was first appropriated to those 
 short sentences which were inscribed on offer- 
 ings made in temples. It was afterwards trans- 
 ferred to the inscription on the temple gate, 
 thence to other edifices, and the statues of gods 
 and heroes, and men whether living or dead ; 
 and the term remained whether the inscription 
 was in verse or prose. Such was that very 
 ancient one on the tomb of Cyrus : n otvQg<47rt 
 tyca Kudos, o rw ot,cj(Y\v roig Jl£o<roag KlncrccfAsvog km rrig 
 Arms fioc<n\evg' (ayi ovv <pQqvyi<tyis rov prnpurog. The 
 brevity of these inscriptions, which rendered it 
 so easy to impress on the memory any particular 
 
PREFACE. v 
 
 event, or any illustrious name, soon recom- 
 mended them for other purposes. The lawgiver 
 adopted them to convey a moral precept, and 
 the lover to express a tender sentiment ; and 
 hence, in process of time, almost every little 
 poem, which concisely presented one distinct 
 idea, or pursued one general argument, acquired 
 the title of Epigram. 
 
 But the small poems, which claim the greatest 
 attention are those which were written as me- 
 morials of the dead, as tokens of regard for 
 living beauty or virtue, or as passing observa- 
 tions and brief sketches of human life. 
 
 The excellence belonging to the Greek in- 
 scriptions in honour of the dead, consists in the 
 happy introduction of their names and peculiar 
 characters or occupations. The lines inscribed 
 by Pope to the illustrious dead, have been well 
 called " Epitaphs to let." The omission of the 
 name is not their only defect. The virtues so 
 liberally bestowed have nothing in them of dis- 
 crimination, and would sit equally easy on the 
 shoulders of any other good or great personage. 
 They are " the scourge of knaves" — " honest 
 courtiers" — " statesmen, yet friends to truth" — 
 " uncorrupted e'en among the great," 
 " And they are all, all honourable men." — 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 Yet their very names, and distinguishing marks 
 of character are frequently forgotten in the 
 rhymes built to their immortality. 
 
 In the tributes presented to beauty the same 
 characteristic is observable. A Greek lover 
 seldom labours at a picture for which the 
 colours must be so far fetched. Indeed he sel- 
 dom gives any picture at all. He has been 
 favoured or repulsed, as it may happen ; the 
 occasion seems to suggest one natural turn of 
 thought ; and, contenting himself with a deli- 
 neation of what he felt, and not what he might 
 feel, he has done as much as the circumstance 
 required, and no more. 
 
 The short observations on human life, couched 
 in Greek Epigrams, are ever of a melancholy 
 cast : a complaint on the ills of age, sickness, or 
 poverty ; or a beacon set up to light us on our 
 road, and to warn us against pride, perfidy, in- 
 gratitude, envy, and all the other shoals that lie 
 in the way of our happiness. Gloomy and un- 
 comfortable reflections on the shortness and 
 misery of life, seem equally to have inspired the 
 philosopher and the voluptuary. From such re- 
 flections the former points his moral, and the 
 latter defends his excesses. 
 
 To those, whose notions of a future state were 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 perplexed, dark, and uncertain; whose belief 
 in retribution was unsettled and wavering, and 
 rather an object of speculation than a ground of 
 hope or satisfaction, this present life must have 
 appeared the boundary of all human desires and 
 fears ; and the very uncertainty of its duration, 
 and the dark and miserable gloom which in- 
 volved every thing beyond it, will of itself ac- 
 count for the continual complaints of the sad lot 
 of humanity to be found in the ancient poets. 
 These ideas followed them in solitude, and 
 crept in upon their banquets ; and such are the 
 few remaining strains of Mimnermus, the poet 
 of love and pleasure. 
 
 From the histories, orations, and nobler poems 
 which have come down to us, we know how to 
 appreciate the bold and masterly characters, 
 who in long succession were the pilots of Greece, 
 and whose steady guidance directed her with 
 safety and glory through tempests which other 
 states were unable to*withstand. From docu- 
 ments so ample, we become acquainted with 
 her greatest heroes and statesmen. For private 
 events and domestic occurrences, we must look 
 to the fugitive pieces, which, like planks of a 
 mighty wreck, help to convey to us some idea 
 of the majesty or the vessel which has gone to 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 pieces. In these minor relics many events are 
 recorded beneath the dignity of history to com- 
 memorate, and which introduce us to the pri- 
 vate characters, customs, and transactions of 
 the age. We follow obscure individuals into 
 their retirements ; we are made companions of 
 their festivities, are present at their tables, 
 games, births, nuptials, and funerals. 
 
 While Greece was yet in her infancy, her 
 Epigrams were almost the only records of 
 things, and memorials of the dead. To their 
 testimony Herodotus and Thucydides recuc, and 
 are followed by Diodorus and Plutarch, all of 
 whom appeal to them, as to sure and undisputed 
 authority. Scarcely was a trophy consecrated, 
 or a city depressed by the vicissitudes of fortune 
 and of war, without some Epigram recording 
 the event, and the causes which led to its com- 
 pletion. Thus the history of an epoch is some- 
 times found couched in a few distichs, which 
 are remembered and referred to without trouble. 
 Simonides in particular claims our attention 
 among the metrical historians of his country. 
 His lines on Megistias the prophet, who fell at 
 Thermopylae, and the inscriptions on the other 
 heroes who perished at that famous battle, are 
 preserved to us by Herodotus. Every thing 
 
PREFACE. ix 
 
 relating to so generous and glorious an achieve- 
 ment cannot fail of interesting ; and such was 
 the short testimony of praise by which it was 
 intended to convey to posterity the memory of 
 those warriors who were the saviours of Greece. 
 The valour of the people of Tegeaea, in defend- 
 ing themselves against the Spartans, is cele- 
 brated in four lines. On a Corinthian monu- 
 ment were four lines inscribed by the same poet 
 to those of Corinth, who fell at Salamis ; and 
 many other memorials, equally concise and im- 
 portant, are yet remaining. Polemo appears 
 to have been the first collector of that species of 
 Epigram, whose only aim it was to commemo- 
 rate public transactions, cities, and gifts conse- 
 crated to the Gods. His books " U^i ruv kktk 
 
 ttqXzh; Efl-iy/>a^*Iwv/' that J c ITs/h tuu avocSypaTCdv ev 
 Aaxdoiifji.ovi " and " TIspi rm ev Ae\<pois Smrotvow" 
 have furnished Athenaeus and Plutarch with 
 quotations and illustrations of times that had 
 long elapsed. 
 
 But Meleager,* the Syrian, who flourished 
 under the last of the Seleucidae, first collected 
 
 * An old Greek scholiast seems to settle the dispute con- 
 cerning the aera in which Meleager lived, ^x^acrev em 
 ^eteuxov tou e<rx*lov. Olymp. 170, about ninety-six years 
 before the Christian sera. 
 
x PREFACE. 
 
 the numerous fragments of Greece, which were 
 intrusted, before his time, to the memory of 
 men, engraven on marbles, or dispersed as 
 fugitive pieces. He is said to have been an 
 imitator of the Cynic Menippus, whom Lucian 
 has selected as the most convenient and cha- 
 racteristic vehicle for scurrility and abuse : 
 
 WeXsctypov 
 
 But either some other Menippus, or some other 
 Meleager, far different from the tender and 
 affecting collector of the first Anthologia, seems 
 to have been intended. It would appear im- 
 possible, that he, who so eloquently pourtrays 
 the softer passions of our nature, whose muse is 
 dedicated to amorous pleasures and incentives, 
 should have sat a severe and stern censor on 
 human frailties, passions, and infirmities, that 
 the same man who was by turns a slave to love 
 and melancholy, should have sneered sarcasti- 
 cally at his fellow-creatures, few of whom were 
 half so prone to weakness and error as himself. 
 Diogenes Laertius speaks of a Meleager, 
 who not only imitated, but equalled the biting 
 and barking Cynic of Gadara in wit and acri- 
 mony ; and Athenaeus mentions a Cynic by the 
 
PREFACE. xi 
 
 name of Meleager, but in such a manner, that 
 he seems almost to be making a distinction be- 
 tween him and another of that name. Miteaygos 
 o KwiKog ev too 2u/A7ro<nw ovluG-i ygct<pu. From whence 
 it appears that the Cynic had written a satire, 
 called to I,vy.Tro<Tiov. And the same author men- 
 tions the titles of two other satirical perform- 
 ances by the same Meleager, whom he calls the 
 Cynic of Gadara, the birth place of the Epi- 
 grammatist. Would not Athenseus, with more 
 consistency, have given to our author the titles 
 of Collector and Poet, as well as that of Cynic, 
 had he intended the last mentioned appellation 
 to have applied to the same man ? 
 
 The relics of Meleager bespeak a mind woven 
 of the finest texture, shaded, but not darkened 
 by melancholy ; easily affected by change of 
 place or season ; soft and pliable to a guilty ex- 
 cess ; and in no one instance do they betray a 
 propensity to sneer, or a struggle to conceal it. 
 At least his satires are no more; while his 
 amatory poems, epitaphs, and other records of 
 affection, tenderness, and sorrow, remain in 
 sufficient number to contradict his supposed 
 devotion to Menippus, or to prove that if he 
 ever were so devoted, it was not until after he 
 had banquetted to satiety at the table of Epicurus. 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 The venom of Archilochus ceases to operate. 
 All that we know of Menippus is, that his 
 satires were written in prose, with a sprinkling 
 of verse ; and even this peculiarity might have 
 been unrecorded, had it not been imitated by 
 Varro,* who thus procured to himself the title 
 of the Roman Cynic, and to his writings the 
 name of the poet whom he followed. The ex- 
 temporary burlesques, written in France against 
 the League, were collected together under the 
 title of " Satires Menippees," and our country- 
 man, Dr. Ferriar, has given us a specimen of 
 the peculiarity at least of a Menippean treatise. 
 
 The Menippean satires of the Cynic Meleager 
 are so entirely buried in oblivion, that confusion 
 has even arisen about their author. Burlesques, 
 written to" expose the eccentricities of indivi- 
 duals, are read with avidity, and are irresistible 
 at their first appearance. The love of novelty 
 
 * Varro not only mixed prose with verse, but Greek 
 with Latin. The few fragments which we possess are much 
 corrupted — the titles of many satires remain. He rejected 
 the acrimony of Menippus, and is rather to be ranked 
 among those poets who are called <nrovloy$\oioi. 
 
 Boethius departs still further from the intention of Me- 
 nippus ; and seeks consolation in the imprisonment imposed 
 on him by the Gothic king, from the mixed charm of poetry 
 and philosophy. 
 
PREFACE. xiii 
 
 and curiosity, the self-complacence and vanity 
 which those persons feel who have escaped the 
 lash, and the free indulgence of all that is ma- 
 lignant in human nature, conspire to adapt 
 personal satire to the taste of the world. But 
 the once dreaded sting becomes blunted by 
 time, and the sallies of raillery lose their poig- 
 nancy with their application. 
 
 Two Epigrams of Meleager seem to fix the 
 a?ra in which he flourished. In one he com- 
 memorates the fall of Corinth ; in another he 
 endeavours to explain the emblematical figures 
 of a cock supporting a branch of palm and a 
 die, on the tomb of Antipater, the poet and phi- 
 losopher of Sidon, whose remains are interwoven 
 in the Anthologia. 
 
 To this beautiful collection Meleager pre- 
 fixed a poem descriptive of the work, and the 
 authors by whose contributions it was enriched.* 
 This preface is entitled the Garland, in which 
 the best fugitive pieces of every ancient and 
 contemporary poet are collected together, and 
 presented to his friend Diodes. 
 
 * The Prologue to the following work is written from 
 the model of that composed by Meleager. 
 
xW PREFACE. 
 
 'Avvcre (j,sv MsKsotypo^ &c. 
 
 Implicult Meleager, honoratoque Diocli 
 Munus amicitise daedala serta dedit ; 
 
 Lilia multa Anytse subnectens, multaque Myrus 
 Lilia ; Lesbose pauca, sed ilia rosas. 
 
 The vigour and youth of Greece were now 
 on their decline ; and her exertions in arms and 
 arts were becoming less active as centuries 
 rolled on ; but in her green old age, the fea- 
 tures of her youth were discernible, and the 
 spirit with which it was animated, burst forth 
 in irregular and partial gleams, that evinced her 
 not yet to be exhausted by the efforts of former 
 days. 
 
 Deprived of the advantages enjoyed by his 
 predecessor, Philip of Thessalonica continued 
 the work after an interval of an hundred and 
 fifty years. 
 
 Perfection is now no longer to be found. The 
 Sapphos and Anacreons of the day were ad- 
 mirers and imitators of their predecessors, but 
 bore no nearer resemblance to them than the 
 Pseudo-Hercules* in one of Menander's plays, 
 
 * This person is recorded to have appeared on the stage 
 with a club, like his predecessor, which he brandished to 
 and fro, threatening annihilation to the weak, timid, and 
 defenceless. 
 
PREFACE. xv 
 
 to the real hero of antiquity. The same ideas 
 recur : but the power of expression to give 
 them their due illustration is wanting. It is a 
 most just and elegant comparison which Addi- 
 son makes somewhere in his Spectators (and 
 which may well be transferred to the subject 
 before us) when, speaking of Roman eloquence, 
 he observes, that the same idea expressed in 
 the language of Cicero, and attempted by 
 another writer, differs as much as the same 
 object when seen by the light of the sun, or the 
 glimmering of a taper. 
 
 The attractions of these light compositions 
 become less striking as we advance ; the colour- 
 ings, no longer vivid, are mellowed into the 
 tints of autumn ; but although " fallen into the 
 sear and yellow leaf," remain pleasing tQ the 
 eye, and interesting even to their latest decay. 
 
 During the silent lapse of more than five 
 hundred years, the lyre of Qreece hung silent 
 and unstrung ; and when Agathias, in the sixth 
 century, attempted to give it sound, a feeble 
 tinkling was returned to the touch before it lay 
 mute for ever. 
 
 This collector raked together the loose mis- 
 cellanies and scattered fragments of his time ; 
 and knew not that by his exertions he was be- 
 
xvi PREFACE. 
 
 queathing and perpetuating to succeeding ages 
 the figure of his country, enfeebled, helpless, 
 exhausted, and nearly sunk into dotage. Some 
 of his own productions may be brought forward 
 to redeem it from this second childishness. He 
 himself acknowledges the strong bent of his 
 mind to the alluring pursuit of poetry, and in 
 early youth he published a collection of amorous 
 poems, which he entitled " Daphniaca." In 
 some of his works a tenderness and justness of 
 expression is perceivable, which, would have 
 done honour to better times; and the tribute 
 offered to the Ereutho of Agathias, would not 
 have been disregarded by the Heliodora of Me- 
 leager. It is most probable that our collector 
 was assisted by his friend Paul the Silentiary,* 
 who, besides his more desultory works, wrote a 
 laboured account of the church, dedicated to 
 Santa Sophia, or Sacred Wisdom, from which 
 the cross has been taken, and the monks have in 
 latter days retired, to make way for dervishes, 
 and the adorers of Mahomet. 
 
 Many of the Epigrams of Agathias. and his 
 
 * UotvXos l£,iksvTiccpio$, a term adopted from the Latin 
 Silentium ; more properly Uau\o$ 'Hotv^ottqios : it was an 
 office in the court of Justinian, corresponding to that of 
 Gentleman-usher. 
 
PREFACE. xvii 
 
 friend the Silentiary, correspond with each 
 other. Paul was a courtier, who prostituted 
 his muse, it is said, in celebration of the infam- 
 ous Theodora ; he was a voluptuary, who seems 
 to have indulged himself freely in the gardens, 
 the baths, and all the debasing pleasures of his 
 countrymen. He is never cloyed by possession, 
 but returns after enjoyment, and dwells, in his 
 polluted imagination, on the banquet by which 
 he has been surfeited. In this however he is 
 not singular ; for dreadful as were the calami- 
 ties of his times, we turn with still greater 
 horror from the vices which gave birth to them. 
 We can know little of the private life of 
 Agathias ; but from an anecdote which he has 
 himself related, we may conjecture that it was 
 embittered by family disputes and misfortunes. 
 His sister, Eugenia , had been married to Theo- 
 dotus. This gentle pair, on some difference of 
 opinion, had recourse to a trial of strength, in 
 which, before they could be separated, they 
 both expired.* Agathias supposes the hus~ 
 band to exculpate them, by declaring, from 
 their common tomb, that neither was in fault, 
 that envy, or some fury, had devoted them to 
 
 * See Epig. 86 Agath. Brunck. torn. iii. p. 65. 
 C 
 
XVi " PREFACE. 
 
 its vengeance, and that before the judge of the 
 shades they stood acquitted of malice. 
 
 The labours of Agathias have however de- 
 served well of posterity ; for as the public taste 
 declines with the morals and power of a people, 
 he found admirers in his contemporaries, who 
 seem to have given all the encouragement in 
 their power to this unpromising offspring of de- 
 crepitude, and to have watched over it with 
 such jealous care, that we have more remains 
 from the collection of Agathias, than from his 
 two predecessors conjointly. Thus, if we are 
 not indebted to this collector for any very refined 
 pleasure in the perusal of his work, yet, if it be 
 true that muta est pictura poesis, we are at least 
 enabled to judge, from the preference given to 
 the new over the old collection, of the then pre- 
 vailing taste in literature. 
 
 A more calamitous period in the history of 
 the world is not to be found, than that which 
 elapsed from the fourth to the sixth century. 
 The barbarians of the north had not only suc- 
 ceeded in their depredations on the enfeebled 
 inhabitants of the Eastern and Western em- 
 pires, but had introduced their manners among 
 them, and had even engrafted their jargons on 
 the withering stem of Grecian literature. 
 
PREFACE. xix 
 
 At the end of the sixth century, this unhappy 
 country appears to have become foreign to her- 
 self, and none, except those who devoted them- 
 selves solely to the study of ancient learning, 
 were masters of the dialects, metres, and nice 
 discriminations between words seemingly syno- 
 nymous. Grammarians had, at different times, 
 endeavoured to affix, by accents, certain rules 
 for the raising and depression of the voice, which, 
 if not invented at this aera, were at least more 
 generally resorted to as the standards of tone 
 and modulation. On props so faithless and un- 
 steady, the ancient fabric was not calculated 
 long to brave the assaults of barbarism. The 
 public taste continued to decline ; and while the 
 collection of Agathias remained entire, those of 
 Meleager and Philip were yearly losing, some of 
 their ornaments from two distinct causes : for 
 the decay of old manuscripts was not supplied 
 by new transcribers ; and with a gloomy and 
 unrelenting zeal the ministers of religion perse- 
 cuted every work of ingenuity and fancy. 
 
 The first of Meleager's collections was neces- 
 sarily exposed to their fury. The specimens of 
 that work which yet remain too abundantly 
 justify the persecution. It was written for the 
 express purpose of celebrating Eastern sensu- 
 
xx PREFACE. 
 
 ality ; and is said to have contained nothing but 
 the divitias miser as of a mind pregnant with 
 ideas wasted in the embellishment of vice. But 
 unfortunately its undiscriminating enemies ap- 
 pear to have been actuated by a rage, no less 
 furious, against those beautiful relics of affection 
 and sorrow, by which the poet endeavoured to 
 make amends to an insulted world for the ex- 
 travagance of his youth. 
 
 To Agathias we are indebted for six years of 
 the reign of Justinian, continued from the history ' 
 of Procopius to the last victory of Belisarius, in 
 the year 559, over the Bulgarians, commanded 
 by Zabergan. The history of our author has 
 been censured, perhaps justly, as a dull and 
 prolix declamation. Yet he is generally allowed 
 to maintain a respectable place among the By- 
 zantine historians, and is peculiarly noticed for 
 the mildness and humanity of his sentiments. 
 
 The whole series of the Gothic war had been 
 completed by Procopius. — During the eventful 
 reign of Justinian, Rome had five times changed 
 masters, and was once more restored to her 
 lawful Emperor by the bravery of Narses. The 
 times were big with stratagems, individual 
 deeds of heroism, distant migrations of Barba- 
 rians from the bleak and ungenial North in 
 
PREFACE. xxi 
 
 quest of milder suns, the havoc of war and pes- 
 tilence, and the convulsions of empires and of 
 nature.* Gibbon takes a reluctant leave of 
 Procopius for Agathias. " We must now (says 
 he) relinquish a statesman and a soldier, to at- 
 tend the footsteps of a poet and a rhetorician." 
 The savage descent of the Franks under the 
 two brothers Buccelin and Lothaire into the 
 fair plains of Italy, the wild superstitions of 
 their allies the Allemanni who sacrificed the 
 heads of horses to their native deities of woods 
 and rivers, are noticed by this even and placid 
 writer in the strain of cool philosophy. The Si- 
 byl's cave, made venerable from its inmate and 
 the ancient dreams of inspiration, is only men- 
 tioned with a view of ascertaining its scite with 
 accuracy; and the final victory gained by 
 Narses on the banks of the Vulturnus was 
 only chosen to give point and ornament to an 
 epigram of six lines. Rome had so frequently 
 been the seat of empire to barbarous monarchs, 
 had so often crouched under the despotism 
 and indignities imposed on her by strangers, 
 the theatre of her former victories had in such 
 
 * See an. account of the earthquakes that shook Con- 
 stantinople incessantly, and the comets which appeared in 
 the reign of Justinian. 
 
xxii PREFACE. 
 
 numerous instances represented the scenes of 
 her disgrace and humiliation, that we are no 
 longer to expect from her historians that awful 
 regard, that holy " admonitus locorum" which 
 is felt by the patriot while musing over the 
 honours of his country. 
 
 But in describing the joy which diffused itself 
 over Italy, this writer is insensibly betrayed 
 into language so nearly approaching to poetry, 
 that its resemblance to the opening of Richard 
 theThird could not escape the notice of Gibbon.* 
 — ' ' Nothing (says Agathias) remained for the 
 Italians but to exchange their shields and hel- 
 mets for the soft lute and capacious hogshead." 
 
 Agathias was one of the few remaining Greeks 
 who made the study of the ancient language the 
 business of their lives, and hence he obtained 
 the name of Scholasticus ; for, amongst other 
 encouragements held out to support the cause 
 of expiring literature*, the names and titles of 
 
 * I am led to observe another remarkable resemblance 
 between a celebrated passage in Henry the Fifth, and the 
 following splendid figure in a homily of St. Chrysostom : 
 
 gfi §6 uulcp TrpaxntYivwv jaev 6 ovpctvo$ anas, Qsulpov Sc y oixovpevrj, 
 Qsetlou h x«» axpoulcu 7rctv1s$ uyteXoi, tlcu avOpowrcov bvonrsp 
 ayyeXoi Tvy%avov<riV ov1sc; 9 r\ km yeve<r$ou eniSvpoviri* Chrys. 
 Horn. 1. St. John toi t. 2. edit. SaviUe. 
 
PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 grammarian and scholar were applied to those 
 who signalized themselves by successful appli- 
 cation to the works of their forefathers. 
 
 In the tenth century, the manuscripts, from 
 the combined effects of time, discord, and su- 
 perstition, were either nearly destroyed, or 
 falling quietly into oblivion. Happily for the 
 lovers of poetry, a person, known to us by name 
 only, embarked once more in the undertaking, 
 and saved the vessel that was going unnoticed 
 down the stream of time to oblivion. This per- 
 son was Constantinus Cephalus, the friend and 
 relation of the Emperor Leo the Philosopher, 
 some of whose whimsical productions appear in 
 the work. How small a share of literature and 
 talent entitled a person in these days to public 
 notice, we may easily collect from the honour- 
 able title conferred on Leo, whose time appears 
 to have been devoted to any thing rather than 
 those pursuits from whence he derived his pre- 
 cedence in name. 
 
 Maximus Planudes, a monk of the fourteenth 
 century, was the last collector. We are not 
 to expect great excellence of selection in a man 
 of that age, and particularly in a monk ; and 
 must not be surprized if many dull and, to say 
 no worse of them, unmeaning epigrams of his 
 
xxiv PREFACE. 
 
 tasteless times have a place in his work, to the 
 exclusion of others recommended by elegance 
 and antiquity.* 
 
 Planudes turned with abhorrence from the 
 many indelicacies that yet disgraced the work ; 
 and, as Lascaris says of him in his Preface, 
 " Non magis disposuit, quam mutilavit, et, ut 
 ita dicam, castravit hunc librum, detractis las- 
 civioribus epigrammatis ; ut ipse gloriatur." 
 
 To this imperfect and tasteless abridgment 
 the scholars of Europe were referred until the 
 seventeenth century ; and this might have been 
 added to the number of instances on record, 
 where abridgments have survived their origi- 
 nals, had not a youth of Burgundy, the pride 
 and wonder of the age in which he lived, res- 
 cued the parent collection from total oblivion. 
 
 Claude de Saumaise, well known -to us by 
 the name of Salmasius was one of those original 
 and hardy geniuses of the sixteenth and begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth centuries who braved 
 the terrors of religious persecution and em- 
 braced tenets rather from conviction than the 
 
 * The editio pri?iceps o f this Anihologia was that of Jan. 
 Lascaris, accompanied by a Greek Prologue of the editor, 
 and a Latin Epistle to Pietro de Medici, printed at Florence, 
 August 1492. 
 
PREFACE. xxv 
 
 fashion of the times. His mother was a Pro- 
 testant, and had infused into his mind her no- 
 tions on points of faith with such assiduity, that, 
 after a residence in Paris of two or three years, 
 he fled from that city to Heidelberg, for the 
 express purpose of enjoying in freedom his 
 religious opinions. He arrived at that city at 
 the age of fourteen (under the escort of some 
 merchants who were going to Frankfort fair) 
 with recommendatory letters to all the learned 
 there from Isaac Casaubon, with whom he had 
 become intimate at Paris. To oblige his father, 
 he studied civil law under Gothofredus. But 
 his own inclination induced him to avail himself 
 of the permission granted him of perusing the 
 books contained in the library of the Palatinate. 
 To accomplish this purpose, he sat up every 
 third night, and was already pronounced by 
 Casaubon " ad miraculum doctus" His time 
 was employed in comparing printed editions 
 with their MSS. and in transcribing the MSS. 
 not hitherto printed. 
 
 He soon discovered that Maximus Planudes 
 had been unfaithful in the office he had under- 
 taken ; and put together that collection, which, 
 though unpublished, has ever since been known 
 by the name of Salmasian, and constantly re- 
 ferred to by succeeding commentators. 
 
xxvi PREFACE. 
 
 Various causes prevented Salmasius from 
 publishing his favourite work. Towards the 
 close of life he was in great estimation among 
 the sovereigns of Europe, and, on his return 
 from Sweden, was unfortunately engaged to 
 undertake the defence of the unhappy house of 
 Stuart, which called down upon him the reta- 
 liation of Milton, with whom he was in no 
 respect qualified to measure lances. Thus elated 
 by the attentions of the great, and humbled in 
 a contest with an obscure individual, his mind 
 fluctuated between the extremes of grandeur 
 and debasement, and seems for ever to have 
 lost that firm serenity, that just appreciation of 
 its own powers, which neither aims at things 
 beyond its grasp, nor sacrifices, to a temporary 
 repulse, the pursuit in which it was formed to 
 excel from inclination and experience. 
 
 Within the last century, however, others 
 arose to complete the task which Salmasius left 
 imperfectly accomplished. Various MSS. in 
 almost all the great public libraries of Europe, 
 contained multitudes of Epigrams which had 
 been rejected by or unknown to Planudes ; many 
 of them such as he certainly could not be ima- 
 gined to have cast aside from any of the con- 
 scientious scruples above alluded to. The great 
 Dictionary of Suidas, also, and other similar 
 
PREFACE. xxvii 
 
 magazines of ancient literature, had preserved 
 numbers, either entire, or in fragments, which 
 are to be found in r none of those existing 
 MSS. and the sources of which are now no 
 longer to be traced. From this mass of mate- 
 rials Brunck undertook to supply the deficien- 
 cies of all former editions of the Anthology ; 
 and his " Ana'lecta," corrected and perfected 
 with all the industry and learning for which 
 his name is so deservedly eminent, form the 
 text of the later and very superior edition which 
 has been since given to the world by Jacobs. 
 The " Analecta," however, comprize, besides 
 the numerous legitimate additions to the An- 
 thology of Planudes already mentioned, a great 
 quantity of the works of the minor Grecian poets, 
 who are not, strictly speaking, entitled to a place 
 among the Poets of the Anthology ; and this is 
 avowed by Jacobs to have been his principal 
 motive for giving a new edition of Brunck, in 
 which all extraneous matter was to be omitted, 
 in preference to publishing simply a commen- 
 tary upon Brunck's whole text. This intention 
 being expressed in the very outset of his pre- 
 face, it appears strangely inconsistent in him to 
 have retained the Lyrics and Elegiacs of Simo- 
 nides, the fragments of Archilochus and Bac- 
 
xxviii PREFACE. 
 
 chylides, the hymns of Proclus, &c. while he 
 rejected the greater proportion of the Elegiac, 
 Gnomic, Lyric, and Pastoral Poems which 
 formed so large a part of Brunck's publication. 
 He surely might have retained the whole, if he 
 retained any part ; and he does not assign the 
 least shadow of a sufficient reason for making a 
 selection. 
 
 The conduct of both these Editors of the 
 Anthology being so arbitrary in this respect, 
 there seems to be no apology necessary on the 
 part of an English translator, who has con- 
 sidered himself as not confined exclusively even 
 within the widest of the limits which they have 
 prescribed ; and the fragments of dramatic wri- 
 ters, and even the few extracts from the great 
 tragedians which will be found in the ensuing 
 pages, may, it is hoped, defend their intrusion 
 upon pleas at least as good as any that can be 
 adduced in favour of Theocritus, Sappho, or 
 Anacreon. 
 
 To return to the editions of the Anthology : 
 Jacobs's is the latest, and incomparably the 
 best. It proceeds (as I have said before) on 
 the text, and retains the paging, of Brunck ; 
 and all the numerical references in the following 
 work are made to the same text. Whenever 
 
PREFACE. xxix 
 
 the sense of any of the pieces, which I selected 
 for translation, appeared to require explanation, 
 I have also made free use of the assistance 
 which his annotations furnish towards it. 
 
 A considerable portion of the " Anthologia 
 inedita" still remained in its inedited state after 
 Brunck and Jacobs had ransacked all the libra- 
 ries to which they had access, for the sake of 
 giving the whole to the public. A splendid 
 MS. known by the name of the Vatican, and 
 now in the Imperial library at Paris, seems to 
 have been untouched by them ; and it is said to 
 contain some hundreds of Epigrams by the 
 oldest and best poets of the Anthology, which 
 are not to be found in either Brunck or Jacobs. 
 Several of these have been subsequently edited 
 by Huschke, in a small volume, entitled " Ana* 
 lecta Critica ;" but the best and fullest account 
 of the MS. which contains them is to be found 
 in the u Melanges de Critique et de Philologie, 
 par S. Chardon de la Roche tte, 3 tomes, Paris, 
 1812," which contains also a few of the Epi- 
 grams themselves, with the conjectural emen- 
 dations and notes of the very learned and 
 sensible writer. We also learn, from that work, 
 that M. Chardon himself has, for a great many 
 years past, been engaged in the design of giving 
 
xxx PREFACE. 
 
 to the world a new edition of the Anthology, 
 to comprise all that ought strictly to be com- 
 prised under the term, and of course the whole 
 of the yet unexhausted treasures of this Vatican 
 MS. The revolution of France, he says, inter- 
 rupted the execution of this design, but he gives 
 reason to expect that he has since resumed it ; 
 and if our hopes of the whole work are well 
 founded upon these few specimens, there is 
 reason to expect at last a perfect collection of 
 all those pieces of fugitive poetry, the history of 
 which, and of their early assemblage and sub- 
 sequent dispersion, has been hastily and imper- 
 fectly sketched in the preceding pages. To this 
 late publication of M. Chardon, it will be seen 
 that I am under obligations, upon other grounds, 
 besides that of its having afforded me the infor- 
 mation, which I have here communicated, 
 respecting the " Anthologia inedita." 
 
 I cannot conclude without slightly noticing 
 the principal sources from which, (besides the 
 Anthologia) the materials of the ensuing work 
 have been collected. The first is Athenseus, 
 who was an Egyptian, a native of Naucratos, 
 and flourished in the third century. From his 
 extraordinary powers of memory, and from the 
 extensive learning which his works display, he 
 
PREFACE. xxxi 
 
 has acquired and merited the title of the Grecian 
 Varro. Of these works, which were numerous, 
 that of the " Deipnosophists" only remains to 
 us, and is alone sufficient to support his cha- 
 racter and j ustify his pre-eminence. To us, at 
 least, it is rendered a most invaluable treasure 
 by the quotations it contains from celebrated 
 works of esteemed authors, and. from authors 
 whose names alone would have survived to us 
 but for the fragments which it preserves. He 
 conveys information, in the most pleasing way, 
 on the most interesting subjects, the customs, 
 manners, and opinions of the Greeks ; and we 
 are likewise indebted to him for several of the 
 poems which the later collectors have inserted 
 in the Anihologia. 
 
 Joannes Stobaeus was so called from the 
 place of his birth, Stobee, in Macedonia. His 
 age is not precisely ascertained, but has been 
 conjectured by Heeren, his commentator, to 
 have been about the end of the fourth, and be-*- 
 ginning of the fifth centuries. He was also a 
 collector of an Anthologia, but on a very differ- 
 ent principle from any hitherto mentioned. The 
 instruction of a favourite son was the scope of 
 his labours ; and to this we are indebted for 
 both the collections which we have under his 
 
xxxii PREFACE. 
 
 name, but which, in all probability, were but 
 separate parts of the same work. They consist 
 of extracts from the most excellent philosophers 
 and moral dramatic writers of Greece. To a 
 work containing the united wisdom of the best 
 ages of antiquity and the most beautiful poetry 
 which the vigorous genius of Athens ever pro- 
 duced, the title of a well-arranged common- 
 place book is perhaps now the strongest recom- 
 mendation that can be given ; and to such 
 praise are the books of Stobaeus entitled. Frag- 
 ments of near three hundred writers are pre- 
 served by him, of whom the greatest number 
 have so nearly suffered their final dissolution, 
 that no vestiges of them remain any where else ; 
 particularly those of the many comic writers of 
 Menander's school, which (perhaps beyond any 
 other circumstances) tend to make us regret 
 the cruel depredations of time. I shall, in the 
 course of my present undertaking, present a 
 few of these in an English dress.- — Their serious 
 and moral turn, united to a force and energy of 
 expression which entitles them to a very high 
 poetical estimation, will afford a pleasing variety 
 from the lighter and more alluring lays of Me- 
 leager, Agathias, and Antipater. 
 
 The name of Menander, from the praises 
 
PREFACE. xxxiii 
 
 lavished on him by his contemporaries, suggests 
 to our mind the most complete model of gaiety 
 that any poet before or since his time has pre- 
 sented. We are entitled, from the universal 
 assent of the ancients, to expect this quality in 
 a writer, to whom it was said so eminently to 
 belong. But Time has revelled on the noble 
 image of Menander ; it has preyed on all that 
 was inviting in his aspect, and spared little else 
 than his frowns, wrinkles, and deformities. 
 What a proof does it present to our mind of the 
 instability of fame, when we find that the very 
 character of this celebrated bard has undergone 
 so entire a revolution ; and that of his volu- 
 minous works, the monuments by which he 
 vainly hoped to be immortalized, only fragments 
 enough remain to present to our view the very 
 reverse of that which they were designed to 
 perpetuate ! 
 
 Even this poet, gloomy and melancholy as he 
 now appears, was once, according to Pliny, 
 -' omnis luxuries interpres ;" in the language of 
 Plutarch, ic the constant worshipper, the chief 
 priest of the God of Love, who, like some uni- 
 versal spirit, pervaded and connected all his 
 works." Yet* his love was so refined and his 
 voluptuousness so guarded by delicacy, that he 
 
 d 
 
xxxiv PREFACE. 
 
 was placed, without scruple or danger, in the 
 hands of youths and virgins : 
 
 u Fabula jucundi nulla est sine amore Menandri, 
 
 Et solet hie pueris virginibusque legi." 
 
 Ovid. 
 
 Many ages after his death, a statue was 
 erected to his memory, and placed by the side 
 of the image of Cupid. 
 
 Two or three Epigrams, made upon this 
 statue, are preserved, which display, in the 
 figurative and forcible language of his country- 
 men, the estimation in which he was held, and 
 give him a distinguished rank among the gay 
 and amorous poets of antiquity. Those which I 
 have thought worthy of selection, the reader will 
 find in the division of " Descriptive Poems/* 
 p. 385 of the present Collection. 
 
 "In supporting the characters of fathers, 
 sons, husbands, soldiers, peasants, the rich and 
 the poor, the violent and the gentle, Menander 
 surpassed all in consistency, and by the bril- 
 liance of his imagery threw every rival into the 
 shade." Such is the character given of him by 
 Quintilian. The natural partiality of Caesar for 
 his countrymen only permits him to give a 
 secondary place to Terence, the imitator of the 
 
PREFACE. xxxv 
 
 elegant, but not of the witty, Grecian. Ausonius 
 couples our poet with Homer ; and he is ex- 
 tolled by all those who had access to his works, 
 with an enthusiasm not inferior to that with 
 which the name of the prince of poets is men- 
 tioned. 
 
 I have heard that a great English orator, now 
 no more, the only scholar who has made the 
 style of Demosthenes his own, and adapted it 
 to present politics and the events of the times, 
 has frequently declared his opinion, founded on 
 the specimens of our poet which yet remain, 
 and the praises of all the discerning ancients, 
 that the loss of his dramas is more to be de- 
 plored than of any other ancient writings what- 
 ever. The real Menander is departed from us ; 
 and all the praises of antiquity, and the regret of 
 subsequent ages, resemble only the rich mantle 
 which wraps the corpse of a monarch, or the 
 frankincense which burns upon his pile ! 
 
 A few relics, among those of lesser note yet 
 remaining (which, like the bones of some giant 
 picked up in the field, once the theatre of his 
 exploits, cannot be fitted to any other than the 
 huge body to which they belonged,) give us 
 some idea of the vastness of Menander. — But 
 " quantum mutatus ab illoT Where are the 
 
xxxvi PREFACE. 
 
 perfumes, the breathings of gallantry and ten- 
 derness, the sprightly sallies of wit, and all the 
 apparatus and circumstance of love, youth, and 
 delight, that conveyed and recommended mora- 
 lity to the gay and thoughtless, by attiring her 
 in a dress that enamoured hsr beholders 1 That 
 his aim was morality, is evident from the praises 
 bestowed on him by Plutarch and other writers. 
 This end he kept in view, " unmixed with 
 baser matter," and by a sort of ntAxwym, by an 
 equal exertion of force and persuasion, com- 
 manded the hearts of his readers and auditors. 
 And yet the fragments that have come down to 
 us stamp him with the character of morose, 
 sarcastic, and querulous. But these sentiments 
 were put by him into the mouths of characters 
 whom he designed to hold up to detestation or 
 ridicule — and what remains of him does not 
 mark so strongly his own peculiar genius, as 
 the taste of those selectors who have chosen his 
 words to illustrate their own ideas. Thus to 
 the saturnine and melancholy selector we owe 
 the survival of the sad, peevish, and infantine 
 complaints on the many sorrowful items u which 
 flesh is heir to," and which, instead of offering 
 an alleviation to the evils we suffer, tend to 
 aggravate their load and debilitate the bearer. 
 
PREFACE. xxxvii 
 
 On the other hand, the strikingly moral pas- 
 sages with which his works abounded alone 
 caught the attention of the fathers of the primi- 
 tive church, who found in the Greek comedian 
 a strain of piety so nearly approaching to their 
 own belief and feelings, that all ideas of a pre- 
 ponderance of satire over moral precept, must 
 yield to evidence so irresistible as the approba- 
 tion of Clemens Alexandrinus and Eusebius. 
 In short, it is from these two sources alone, the 
 writings of the melancholy and of the religious 
 man, that we are furnished with our specimens 
 of the great Menander. Happy were it for us, 
 and for posterity, had the gay, the lively, and 
 the witty, finished the portrait of the bard, by 
 transmitting to after ages examples that would 
 have enabled us to measure him by the stan- 
 dards of humour, sprightliness, and fancy. 
 
 The superiority of the Grecian dramatists 
 was felt and acknowledged by their Roman 
 imitators and admirers ; and Cicero frequently 
 reprobates the prevailing partiality of his coun- 
 trymen for these foreign authors. He supposes 
 a Roman thus to object to his arguments: 
 " Shall I toil through the Synephebi of Cae- 
 cilius, and the Andria of Terence, when I may 
 as easily read the same plays in Menander I" 
 
xxxviii PREFACE. 
 
 The answer of Cicero is not very convincing, 
 nor likely to turn the scale in favour of the 
 Roman stage. 
 
 Menander was drowned in the harbour of 
 Piraeus (A. C. 293), at a time of life when he 
 had done enough for immortality, but while 
 the powers of his mind were yet unimpaired by 
 age, and his genius sufficiently ardent to do 
 still more. He is said to have thrown himself 
 into the sea in a fit of jealousy, occasioned by 
 his unfortunate competition with Philemon, his 
 contemporary in the middle comedy. He was 
 vanquished, as Aulus Gellius asserts, by the 
 superior interest rather than talents of his suc- 
 cessful rival ; and the same writer relates that, 
 meeting him shortly after the contest had been 
 decided, he asked him, " if he did not i)lush at 
 gaining the prize against him ?" Menander is to 
 be classed in the melancholy list of great men 
 to whom the jealousy, bad taste, or intrigues of 
 the time in which they lived, denied justice, and 
 to whose names fame and honour were attached 
 when they no longer lived to enjoy them. 
 
 By a strange fatality, a great proportion of 
 the writers of antiquity were thus prematurely 
 cut off from existence. Euripides and Hera- 
 clitus were torn to pieces by dogs. Theocritus 
 
PREFACE. xxxix 
 
 ended his career by the halter. Empedocles 
 was lost in the crater of Mount Etna. Hesiod 
 was murdered by his secret enemies ; Archi- 
 lochus and Ibycus by banditti. Sappho threw 
 herself from a precipice. iEschylus perished 
 by the fall of a tortoise. Anacreon (as may be 
 expected) owed his death to the fruit of the 
 vine. Cratinus and Terence experienced the 
 same fate with Menander. Seneca and Lucan 
 were condemned to death by a tyrant, cut their 
 veins, and died repeating their own verses ; 
 and Petronius Arbiter met a similar cata- 
 strophe. Lucretius, it is said, wrote under the 
 delirium of a philter administered by his mis- 
 tress, and destroyed himself from its effects. 
 Poison, though swallowed under very different 
 circumstances, cut short the days both of 
 Socrates and Demosthenes ; and Cicero fell 
 under the proscription of the Triumvirate. It 
 is truly wonderful that so many men, the pro- 
 fessed votaries of peace and retirement, should 
 have met with fates so widely different from 
 that to which the common casualties of life 
 should seem to expose them. 
 
 Of Philemon, the successful rival of Menan- 
 der, we know but little. He seems to have 
 passed his' life in the exercise of those social 
 
xl PREFACE. 
 
 virtues which secure to a man the affection of 
 intimates, but have little tendency to advance 
 him to notice. These peaceful virtues would 
 probably have consigned the comic poet to ob- 
 scurity, had not his exigences called out the 
 powers he possessed to surmount those obsta- 
 cles which his inclination had opposed, and 
 pushed him into active life. His ears could 
 not have been deaf to the plaudits conferred on 
 his performances, and some sparks of ambition 
 must have been kept alive by perpetual rivalry 
 with the great master of the sock. 
 
 We have a picture of Sterne, drawn by him- 
 self, in the attitude of feeding an ass with maca- 
 roons : ic And at this moment," says that 
 sprightly and whimsical writer, " that I am 
 telling it, my heart smites me that there was 
 more of pleasantry in the conceit of seeing how 
 an ass would eat a macaroon, than of benevo- 
 lence in giving him one, which presided in the 
 act." It would be hard to say what figure an 
 ass would make while thus engaged ; but we 
 are told by Valerius Maximus, that a similar 
 entertainment caused the death of Philemon. 
 This poet, on entering a room to refresh himself 
 with some figs, observed that an ass had been 
 before-hand with him, and was leisurely de- 
 
PREFACE. xli 
 
 vouring them one by one. Philemon wishing 
 to complete the repast, courteously ordered a 
 slave to present his dumb guest with a goblet 
 of wine. This curious symposium provoked 
 the comedian to such a degree of laughter, that 
 he was suffocated in the struggle. 
 
 Every anecdote of Philemon, down to the 
 tragi-comic one which closed his existence, re- 
 commends him to our esteem. He is said to 
 have possessed infinite good humour ; and to 
 the ease and gaiety of his manners and amiable 
 character he was, probably, more* indebted for 
 his many triumphs over Menander, than to any 
 superiority as a writer. 
 
 The fragments of Philemon that have come 
 down to us bespeak a mind tranquil and un- 
 ruffled, capable, from its intimacy with the 
 human heart and all its intricacies, to dictate 
 what is for the good of mankind, but content 
 with gentle admonition and persuasion. 
 
 I have thus briefly recapitulated what I knew 
 of a few principal originals from which I have 
 made translations. Some names, with an occa- 
 sional remark or an anecdote, will find a place 
 in the notes subjoined. 
 
 Something may here be expected from me in 
 excuse for the number of modern trifles intro- 
 duced into the notes, partly on their own ac- 
 
xlii PREFACE. 
 
 count, and partly for the purpose of illustrating 
 the triflers of Greece. — They may be said to 
 form a book upon a book. These happy 
 nothings are principally of French origin ; and 
 those whose taste is little flattered by the simple 
 soupe a la Grecque, may not dislike the sea- 
 soning of the soupe a la Francoise. 
 
 The names of Moncrif, Chaulieu, Racine, 
 J. B. Rousseau, Mad. Deshoulieres, Pannard, 
 the Comtesse de Murat, Maillard, Boileau and 
 Bernard, are, it is hoped, sufficient to excuse 
 their introduction, even though a little forced, 
 into the service of the ancients. Not to speak 
 of their more important works, by which many 
 of these names have become immortal, no 
 modern authors have so gracefully relaxed from 
 labour, and none have trifled with equal play- 
 fulness and success. The French madrigal is, 
 besides, the very fac-simile of the old Greek 
 epigram. In comparing the epigram of the 
 wittiest modern nation with that of Martial, 
 modern times have nothing to regret. The 
 character of these trifles has never yet been im- 
 pressed on English literature, except by the 
 few imitations of Prior ; and we are reproached 
 to this day, by their best critic* on the compa- 
 
 * Madame de StaeL 
 
PREFACE. xliii 
 
 ra^ve literature of nations, with our superfluity 
 of words ; we are said to be yet strangers to the 
 charm of that definite, close, and graceful ex- 
 pression, termed by her " le langage serre." 
 This language, which she affirms to be utterly 
 unknown to our prose, and which, with the ex- 
 ception of Goldsmith, Collins, and Gray, has 
 been banished from our verse since the sera of 
 Drydenand of Pope, has now left us altogether. 
 Poetry has, for the first time, been induced to 
 submit itself to fashion. Mannerism has become 
 the substitute for character, oddity for meaning, 
 the infinite and indefinite of description for 
 thought, and a grotesque jingle for harmony of 
 numbers. This latter excellence, which is the 
 very soul of poetry, without which the very term 
 has no meaning, and which, when allied to the 
 charm of diction and of style, forms the only 
 distinctive barrier between poetry and prose, 
 this comparative music, so difficult to be eli- 
 cited from a Northern language, which cost the 
 successive effort and improvement of every 
 great writer, until it reached its point of perfec- 
 tion in the more finished cadences to be found 
 scattered at intervals in different parts of Dry- 
 den, has been voluntarily abandoned, and again 
 we court a barbarism from which it was so hard 
 
xliv PREFACE. 
 
 to emerge. Every thought, from the most pleas- 
 ing to the most sublime, may find utterance in 
 unmeasured language. Music, cadence, har- 
 mony alone, exalt the thought, so conceived, to 
 that excellence which deserves the name and 
 title of poetry. Those authors who arise so 
 congenial with their times, that they appear ex- 
 pected and called for by the existing modes, 
 habits, and feelings of society, should remember 
 that, with the passage of those times, they too 
 pass away. These attempts at ancient uncouth- 
 ness, like the cements which are at present in- 
 vented in imitation of stone, may answer their 
 purpose for a period. 
 
 A few rains, succeeded by a few frosts, lay 
 open the imposition in the edifice ; their decay 
 resembles not that of age ; it claims from us no 
 reverence ; we cannot respect them in their 
 mouldering state ; it is the premature decay of 
 youth, accelerated by debauch ; and even in 
 their ruins there is levity and folly. 
 
 To this compliance with fashion we must 
 attribute the unreasonable eulogies bestowed 
 one year on writers, who, before the expiration 
 of two lustres, become unpopular with equal 
 want of reason. Those only can live, whose 
 feelings and reasonings are so true and general 
 
PREFACE. xlv 
 
 as to be affected by no artificial preparation in 
 matters of judgment, wit, and taste. They are 
 " the men of old," as Rousseau has it, " living 
 in modern times." But their sentiments are 
 those of nature, of unyielding and unchanging 
 nature ; and the modern times to come, whose 
 fashions shall have assumed a new, and possi- 
 bly a contrary bent, shall be their advocates and 
 admirers. *" That which good taste has once 
 approved, says the same author, is ever good. If 
 it be seldom fashionable, on the other hand it is 
 never absurd ; and it derives from the congruity 
 of things sure and unalterable rules, which re- 
 main when the fashions themselves are no 
 more.'' True taste, it may be added, refuses all 
 accommodation with fashion, every attempt at a 
 composition or compromise, and sooner than 
 yield in her pretensions, contents herself with 
 obscurity, until the times themselves shall 
 come round and bow to her jurisdiction. The 
 author who aspires to after ages, should take 
 leave of the age in which he lives. To be drawn 
 into the vortex of fashionable writing, is to pass 
 that gate on which is inscribed 
 
 " Voi che iiitrate, lasciate ogni speranza." 
 
 The charm of the French madrigal, like that 
 
xlvi PREFACE. 
 
 of the Greek epigram, consists in the perfect 
 adaptation of each word to the impression in- 
 tended to be made, the exclusion of synonymes, 
 the rare and happy epithet, the fine and deli- 
 cate turn which embellishes a thought trivial 
 and familiar; and, above all, in that virtue, 
 which modern English writers utterly explode, 
 conciseness. The subjects too are rationally 
 chosen. Here are no tender oglings of a tulip, 
 no extacies at infantine remembrances, no pros- 
 trations before a butterfly, no melancholy strains 
 on the neglected virtues of a robin red-breast. 
 Their themes are not below the level of com- 
 mon understanding, and, in general, much good 
 sense is couched beneath the happy trifle. 
 
 The scheme of our work naturally induced 
 some disquisition into the fugitive pieces of 
 ancient and modern Europe. It now remains 
 for me to notice an irregularity which nearly 
 affects that translator whose name appears on 
 the title-page. It will doubtless appear strange, 
 that, of the two principal authors, he who has 
 contributed the least portion of the body of the 
 work, should be most prominent to the public. 
 While he regrets the necessity, he has been 
 compelled to yield to the instances of his asso- 
 ciate ; and has, at the same time, been induced, 
 
PREFACE. xlvii 
 
 by the representations of their publisher, who 
 objected to the plan of a book entirely anony- 
 mous, to suffer his own name to appear in a 
 place to which it is entitled no otherwise than 
 by participation. As the signatures affixed to 
 the different metrical pieces will do but half 
 justice to his friend, it is a duty imposed on him, 
 by his consideration for the reader and his asso- 
 ciate, to declare that this participation extends, 
 in an equal proportion, to the remainder of the 
 
 work. 
 
 To return to the Epigrams — It has been my 
 
 endeavour to avoid any needless discussion on 
 their merits. They have had their enemies and 
 protectors. From bad specimens of the later 
 poets, Lord Chesterfield was probably led to 
 utter his interdict against the whole body. 
 Nay, such was that nobleman's vivacity in 
 thinking and speaking, that he not improbably 
 formed his opinion from a hint dropped in 
 conversation, and not from any intimate ac- 
 quaintance with the species of composition 
 which he has most inconsideratelv reviled. A 
 few of his Lordship's admirers caught the idea, 
 and ignorance and stupidity joined in the hue 
 and cry, led on by fashion and ability. 
 
 On the other hand, they found an admirer 
 
xlviii PREFACE. 
 
 themselves in Dr. Johnson, who filled up the 
 intervals of pain, during his last illness, in 
 translating several of them into Latin. And 
 Mr. Cumberland has presented us, in his Ob- 
 server, with some which he has rendered into 
 our own language, but more particularly frag- 
 ments from the comic poets. 
 
 The estimation in which they were held by 
 the country which gave them birth, is evinced 
 by the care taken to preserve them at different 
 periods, and when the difficulties of collecting 
 and collating were infinitely greater than among 
 ourselves. But the mother country knew 
 exactly how to appreciate their value, by assign- 
 ing to them the real place which they were 
 destined to hold with honour. They were con- 
 sidered in general as pleasing and light pastimes 
 to the poet and his reader, and no unfair de- 
 mands were made from such modest profes- 
 sions. Since those days their friends and ene- 
 mies have equally conspired against them ; 
 their enemies by accusing them of a deficiency 
 in point, equivoque, and humour, at which they 
 seldom aim ; their friends by indiscriminately 
 praising the whole body, by advancing them to 
 a degree of consequence for which they are 
 unfitted, and by venerating what they should 
 only esteem. 
 
PREFACE. xlix 
 
 They have stood the test of ages, and while 
 tried by their own laws were not found wanting. 
 The charge of simplicity was subject to no pe- 
 nalties or censures among the Greeks : let us 
 not then impose laws on them with which they 
 were unacquainted, and from which they cannot 
 escape uncensured. But it is time that I put 
 an end to my remarks, lest I should be num- 
 bered among those false friends who injure the 
 cause which they seem to defend, by dilating 
 what had been more seasonably compressed, 
 and giving dignity to trifles. 
 
COLLECTIONS, <* 
 
 'Hfju(rv jx£u 4> V XW ^ l T0 TVS0V# 
 
C MB ] 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Thou little wreath, by Fancy twined 
 In Summer's sun and Winter's wind, 
 That thro' an age of deepest gloom 
 Hast kept thy fragrance and thy bloom, 
 Tho' now whole centuries have roll'd, 
 And nations, since thy birth, grown old, 
 Tho' time have wither'd many a leaf, 
 And silent Envy piay'd the thief, 
 And clowns have breathed in evil hour 
 A poison into thy sweet flower, — 
 Yet dost thou live — nor tyrants' rage 
 Hath nipt thee quite, nor wars, nor age. 
 
 Yet not, as once, the gentle earth 
 Thou dost adorn that gave thee birth, 
 When, all unforced by pains and toil, 
 Wild shooting in thy native soil, 
 The sweetest buds that deck'd the land 
 Were pluck'd by Meleager's hand, 
 Who curl'd Anacreon's blushing vine 
 Around Erinne's eglantine, 
 And Myro's lilies cull'd, to shade 
 The roses of the Lesbian Maid, 
 
Kv PROLOGUE. 
 
 And pluck'd the myrtle from thy grove, 
 
 Callimachus, the sprig of love. 
 
 With these my venturous hand shall wreathe 
 
 The baleful plants that sadly breathe, 
 
 That with a sigh the tragic muse 
 
 Around her path majestic strews ; 
 
 And I will twine, these flowers among, 
 
 Menander, prince of comic song ! 
 
 Pluck'd from thy many garlands bright, 
 
 So charming once and new to sight, 
 
 Some honours spared by age and clime, 
 
 That live to grace an after-time. 
 
 Our unavailing sorrows mourn 
 
 Thy roses pale, thy lilies torn ; 
 
 Thy garden rifled of its bloom, 
 
 Thy violets robb'd of their perfume : 
 
 Thy gaudy tulips now have lost 
 
 Their smiles by many a chilling frost ; 
 
 Thy Spring's rich wardrobe now is scant; 
 
 And now some sad and wintery plant, 
 
 Some wither' d shrub of power malign, 
 
 Of all that graced thy garden fine 
 
 Remains of thee, or sickly yew 
 
 Where buds of heavenly fragrance grew 
 
 Or mourner cypress spreads a shade, 
 
 Or plant of Daphne, hapless maid ! 
 
 Yet 'mid the melancholy night, 
 
 Some scattered honours give delight, 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 And here and there a rose is found 
 
 Neglected on the chilly ground, 
 
 And a chance lily sheds its snow 
 
 Beneath the darker shrubs of woe. 
 
 Oh, not as erst, thou modest wreath, 
 
 Shalt thou of all thy fragrance breathe ! 
 
 Oh, not as erst, when Genius knew 
 
 To give thy colours to the view, 
 
 And Taste was ready to display 
 
 The flowers that fell in Fancy's way ! 
 
 For zephyrs soft that fann'd thy youth, 
 
 How wilt thou meet the gale uncouth ? 
 
 Torn from a genial Summer's smile, 
 
 How wilt thou bear a northern isle ? 
 
 Far from thy home and native sky, 
 
 Meek stranger, wilt thou live or die ? B. 
 
COLLECTIONS, $c. 
 
 AMATORY. 
 
 Meleager, 80. i .23. 
 THE LOVER'S MESSAGE. B. 
 
 OEA-wand'ring barks, that o'er the iEgean sail, 
 With pennants streaming to the northern gale, 
 If in your course the Coan strand ye reach, 
 And see my Phanion musing on the beach, 
 With eye intent upon the placid sea, / 
 
 And constant heart that only beats for me,— 
 Tell my sweet mistress., that for her I haste, 
 To greet her, landing from the watery waste. 
 Go, heralds of my soul ! To Phanion's ear 
 On all your shrouds the tender accents bear ! 
 So Jove shall calm with smiles the wave below, 
 And bid for you his softest breezes blow. 
 
 B 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 Ammianus, 25. ii. 389. 
 
 THE ALL-SUFFICIENCY OF LOVE. B. 
 
 Sell not thy sacred honour for a feast, 
 Nor live with rich men a polluted guest^ 
 Shame to the parasite, who stoops so low 
 To lower or brighten by his patron's brow — 
 Slave tho* I am, my fetter Love beguiles, 
 — -I smile or weep, as Lesbia weeps or smiles. 
 
 Jgathias, 33. iii. 45. 
 ADDRESS OF ANCHISES TO VENUS. M. 
 
 Oft hast thou left the realms of air 
 To dwell with me on Ida's shore ; 
 But now gay youth is mine no more, 
 And Age has mark'd my brows with care. 
 Oh, Queen of Love, my youth restore, 
 Or take my offering of gray hair ! 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 Paulus the Silentiary, 24. iii. 78. 
 ABSENCE INSUPPORTABLE. M. 
 
 When I left thee, Love, I swore 
 Not to see that face again, 
 For a fortnight's space, or more. 
 — But the cruel oath was vain-: 
 Since, the next day I spent from thee 
 Was a long year of misery. 
 
 Oh, then, for thy lover pray 
 
 Every gentler deity, t 
 
 Not in too nice scales to weigh 
 
 His constrained perjury — 
 
 Thou too, oh pity his despair ! 
 
 Heaven's rage, and thine, he cannot bear. 
 
 Paulus, 8. iii. 78. 
 LOVE NOT EXTINGUISHED BY AGE. B« 
 
 For me thy wrinkles have more charms, 
 Dear Lydia, than a smoother face ! 
 I'd rather fold thee in my arms 
 Than younger, fairer nymphs embrace. 
 
 To me thy autumn is more sweet, 
 More precious than their vernal rose, 
 Their summer warms not with a heat 
 So potent as thy winter glows. 
 
4 AMATORY. 
 
 i 
 
 Strato, 20. iii. 364. 
 SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Oh, how I loved, when, like the glorious sun 
 Firing the orient with a blaze of light, 
 Thy beauty every lesser star outshone ! — 
 Now o'er that beauty steals the approach of night- 
 Yet, yet I love ! Tho' in the western sea 
 Half-sunk, the day-star still is fair to me ! 
 
 Uncertain, 62. iii. 163. 
 SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Whether thy locks in jetty radiance play, 
 
 Or golden ringlets o'er thy shoulder stray, 
 
 There Beauty shines, sweet maid, and should they bear 
 
 The snows of age, still Love would linger there. 
 
 Rufinus, 32. ii. 397. 
 THE WARNING. B. 
 
 Did I not warn thee, Prodice, that Time 
 Would soon divide thee from the youthful throng, 
 Feed on the blooming damask of thy prime 
 And scatter wrinkles as he pass'd along ? 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 The hour is come — for who with amorous song. 
 Now woos thy smile, or celebrates thy bloom ? 
 See, from thy presence how the gay and young 
 Retiring turn, and shrink as from the tomb ! 
 
 Rufinusy 22. ii. 395. 
 THE CURE OF DISDAIN. B. 
 
 Cold Rhodope, of beauty vain, replies, 
 Whene'er I greet her, with disdainful eyes : 
 The wreathe I wove, and on her door-post bound, 
 Scornful she tore, and trampled on the ground. 
 Remorseless age 7 and wrinkles, to my aid 
 Fly, swiftly fly,'%nd Rhodope persuade. 
 
 Asclepiades, 21. i. 215. 
 
 THE VIRGIN'S TRIUMPH. M. 
 
 Still glorying in thy virgin flower ? 
 Yet, in those gloomy shades below, 
 No lovers will adorn thy bower : 
 Youth's pleasures with the living glow. 
 Virgin, we shall be dust alone, 
 On the sad shore of Acheron ! 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 Agathias, 13. iii. 38. 
 THE REVENGE OF LOVE. B. 
 
 She who but late in beauty's flower was seen, 
 Proud of her auburn curls, and noble mien, 
 Who froze my hopes, and triumph'd in my fears, 
 Now sheds her graces to the waste of years. 
 Changed to unlovely is that breast of snow, 
 And dimm'd her eye, and wrinkled is her brow, 
 And querulous the voice by time repressed, 
 Whose artless music stole me from my rest, 
 Age gives redress to love ; and silvery hair, 
 And earlier wrinkles, brand the haughty fair. . 
 
 Rujinus, 15. ii. 303. 
 THE GARLAND. M. 
 
 This Garland intertwined with fragrant flowers, 
 Pluck'd by my hand, to thee, my Love, I send. 
 Pale lilies here with blushing roses blend, 
 Anemone, besprent with April showers, 
 Love-lorn Narcissus, violet that pours 
 From every purple leaf the glad perfume ; 
 And, while upon thy sweeter breast they bloom, 
 Yield to the force of love thy passing hours ; 
 For thou, like these, must fade at nature's general doom. 
 
AMATQRY. 7 
 
 Meleager, 71. i. 21. 
 
 THE DESERTED LOVER. M. 
 
 a Witness, thou conscious lamp, and thou, oh night, 
 
 (No others we attest), the vows we plight ! 
 
 Guard ye our mutual faith !" We said, and swore, 
 
 She endless love, and I to roam no more. 
 
 But oaths are scatter'd o'er the waves ; and thou, 
 
 Oh lamp, bear's t witness to her alter 'd vow ! 
 
 Crinagoras, 9. ii. 142. 
 
 THE BRIDAL OFFERING. B. 
 
 Children of spring, but now in wintry snow, 
 We purple roses for Callista blow. 
 Duteous we smile upon thy natal morn, 
 Thy bridal bed to-morrow we adorn. 
 Oh, sweeter far to bloom our little day, 
 Wreathed in thy hair, than wait the sunny May. 
 
 Asclepiades, 4. i. 211. 
 THE VOTIVE CHAPLET. B. 
 
 Curl, ye sweet flowers ! Ye zephyrs softly breathe, 
 Nor shake from Helen's door my votive wreathe I 
 Bedew'd with grief, your blooming honours keep, 
 (For those who love are ever known to weep,) 
 And, when beneath my lovely maid appears, 
 Rain from your purple cups a lover's tears. 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 Paulus, 41. in. 84. 
 THE OFFERING OF A DESERTED LOVER. M. 
 
 To thee the reliques of a thousand flowers, 
 Torn from the chaplet twined in gayer hours ; 
 To thee the goblet carved with skill divine, 
 Erewhile that foam'd with soul-subduing wine ; 
 The locks, now scatter' d on the dusty ground, 
 Once dropping odours and with garlands crown'd, 
 Outcast of pleasure, and of hope bereft, 
 Lais ! To thee, thy Corydon has left. 
 Oft on thy threshold stretch' d at close of day, 
 He wept and sigh'd the cheerless night away, 
 Nor dared invoke thy name, nor dared aspire 
 To melt thy bosom with his amorous fire, 
 Or plead a gracious respite to his pain, 
 Or speak the language of a happier swain. 
 — Alas ! alas ! " now cold and senseless grown," 
 These last sad offerings make his sorrows known, 
 And dare upbraid those scornful charms that gave 
 His youth unpitied to the cheerless grave. 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 AgathiaSy 12. iii. 38. 
 THE TORMENTS OF LOVE. M. 
 
 All night I wept, and when the morning rose, 
 And short oblivion o'er my senses crept, 
 The swallows, twittering round me as I slept, 
 Drove from my couch the phantom of repose. 
 
 Be silent, envious birds ! It was not I, 
 Who stopp'd the voice of tuneful Philomel. 
 Go — and again your plaintive descant swell 
 With Itylus, among the mountains high ! 
 
 Leave me, oh leave me for a while, " to steep 
 " My senses in" a sweet " forgetfulness 1 " 
 Perchance my dreams Rhodanthe's form may bless, 
 Her lovely image fill my arms in sleep. 
 
 Rufinusy 33. ii. 398. 
 MAIDEN RESERVE. H. 
 
 When blest I met my Prodice alone, 
 
 On the cold earth a timid suppliant thrown, 
 
 I clasp'd her beauteous knees, and bade her save 
 
 A wretch, at her disposal, from the grave. 
 
 Listening she wept — too soon her tears were dried, 
 
 And with soft hand she moved me from her side. 
 
10 AMATORY. 
 
 Agathias, 23. iii. 41. 
 MAIDEN PASSION. M. 
 
 Go, idle amorous Boys ! 
 
 What are your cares and joys, 
 To Love, that swells the longing virgin's breast ? 
 
 A flame half hid in doubt, 
 
 Soon kindled, soon burnt out, 
 A blaze of momentary heat at best ! 
 
 Haply you well may find 
 » (Proud privilege of your kind) 
 
 Some friend to share the secret of your heart ; 
 Or, if your inbred grief 
 Admit of such relief, 
 The dance, the chase, the play, assuage your smart. 
 
 Whilst we, poor hapless maids, 
 
 CondemnM to pine in shades, 
 And to our dearest friends our thoughts deny, 
 
 Can only sit and weep, 
 
 While all around us sleep, 
 Unpitied languish, and unheeded die. 
 
AMATORY. 11 
 
 Jntipater of Thessalonica, 5. ii. 110. 
 THE SEPARATION. M. 
 
 Oh hateful bird of morn, whose harsh alarms 
 Drive me thus early from Chrysilla's arms, 
 Forced from th' embrace, so newly tried, to fly. 
 With bitter soul, to cursed society. 
 Old age has sprinkled Tithon's brow with snow, 
 No more his veins in ruddy currents flow : 
 How cold his sense, his wither'd heart, how dead, 
 Who drives so soon a Goddess from his bed I 
 
 Quintus Mcecius, 3. ii. 237. 
 THE SECRET DIVINED. H. 
 
 Why art thou sad ? Why thus disorder'd flow 
 
 Those lovely tresses o'er thy breast of snow ? 
 
 Why hangs the tear on Lesbia's clouded eye ? 
 
 In stranger arms does faithless Cleon lie ? 
 
 In me a sovereign remedy you'll find, 
 
 A pleasing vengeance for the jealous mind. 
 
 Silent you weep— your secret is explain'd, 
 
 Your eye speaks volumes, though your tongue is chained, 
 
12 AMATORY. 
 
 ANOTHER TRANSLATION OF THE SAME. B. 
 
 Why lowers my lovely Glycera ? And why 
 Those tresses torn, and that dejected eye ? 
 I have a charm for bleeding hearts, that mourn 
 Love's fickle wanderings, cold neglect and scorn. 
 Oh vainly mute ! those speaking eyes reveal 
 The pang that gloomy silence would conceal I 
 
 Meleager, 92. i. 26. 
 
 BEAUTY COMPARED WITH FLOWERS. M. 
 
 Now the white snow-drop decks the mead, 
 The dew-besprent narcissus blows, 
 And on the flowery mountain's head, 
 The wildly scatter'd lily grows* 
 
 Each loveliest child of summer throws 
 Her fragrance to the sunny hour, 
 But Lesbia's opening lips disclose 
 Divine Persuasion's fairer flower. 
 
 Meadows, why do ye smile in vain 
 In robe of green and garlands gay ? 
 When Lesbia moves along the plain. 
 She wears a sweeter charm than they. 
 
AMATORY. 13 
 
 PauluSy 17. iii. 76. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 We ask no flowers to crown the blushing rose, 
 Nor glittering gems thy beauteous form to deck, 
 The pearl, in Persia's precious gulph that glows, 
 Yields to the dazzling whiteness of thy neck. 
 Gold adds not to the lustre of thy hair, 
 But, vanquish'd, sheds a fainter radiance there. 
 
 The Indian hyacinth's celestial hue 
 
 Shrinks from the bright effulgence of thine eye, 
 
 The Paphian cestus bathed thy lips in dew, 
 
 And gave thy form ambrosial harmony. 
 
 My soul would perish in the melting gaze, 
 
 But for thine eyes, where Hope for ever plays. 
 
 Philodemus, 18. ii. SO. 
 
 YOUTHEUL BEAUTY. M.^ 
 
 Not yet the blossoms of the spring deeay'd, 
 
 Nor full the swelling treasures of the vine ; 
 
 But the young Loves prepare their darts, sweet maid, 
 
 And light their fires upon thy virgin shrine. 
 
 Oh let us fly, whilst yet unstrung their bows, 
 
 And yet conceal'd, the future splendour glows. 
 
14 AMATORY. 
 
 Paulus, 59. iii. 90. 
 THE PICTURE. M. 
 
 Oh how unequal is the painter's art 
 
 To reach the glowing picture of the heart, 
 
 To catch the roseate graces of my fair, 
 
 u Her eyes' blue languish, and her golden hair ! " 
 
 First paint the gorgeous day-star's beam divine, 
 
 Then may your imaged Lydia equal mine. 
 
 Uncertain^ 58. iii. 162. 
 THE LOVER'S WISH. M. 
 
 Oh that I were some gentle air, 
 That, when the heats of summer glow, 
 And lay thy panting bosom bare, 
 I might upon that bosom blow ! 
 
 Oh that I were yon blushing flower, 
 Which, even now, thy hands have press'd, 
 To live, tho' but for one short hour, 
 Upon the Elysium of thy breast ! 
 
AMATORY. 15 
 
 i 
 
 Meleager, 87. i. 25. 
 MUSIC AND BEAUTY. M. 
 
 By the God of Arcadia, so sweet are the notes 
 That tremulous fall from my Rhodope's lyre, 
 Such melody swells in her voice, as it floats 
 On the soft midnight air, that my soul is on fire. 
 
 Oh where can I fly ? the young Cupids around me 
 Gaily spread their light wings, all my footsteps pursuing ; 
 Her eyes dart a thousand fierce lustres to wound me, 
 And Music and Beauty conspire my undoing. 
 
 Philodemus, 13. ii. 86. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 The strains that flow from young Aminta's lyre, 
 Her tongue's soft voice, and melting eloquence, 
 Her sparkling eyes that glow with fond desire, 
 Her warbling notes, that chain the admiring sense, 
 Subdue my soul — I know not how nor whence. 
 Too soon it will be known when all my soul's on fire, 
 
16 AMATORY. 
 
 Asclepiades, 20. i. 215. 
 THE ENJOYMENT OF LOVE. M. 
 
 Sweet is the goblet cool'd with winter-snows, 
 To him who pants in summer's scorching heat, 
 And sweet to weary mariners, repose 
 From ocean tempests, in some green retreat ; 
 But, far more sweet than these, the conscious bower, 
 Where lovers meet, at " love's delighted hour." 
 
 Rufinus, 24. ii. 396. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 The Queen of Heaven's bright eyes illume thy face ; 
 Great Pallas lends thine arms her polish'd grace ; 
 Thetis thine ancle's slender strength bestows, 
 And Venus in thy swelling bosom glows : 
 Happy the lover, of thy sight possest, 
 Who listens to thy melting voice, thrice blest, 
 Almost a God, whoselove is met by thine, 
 Who folds thee in his arms, indeed divine. 
 
AMATORY. 17 
 
 Rufinus, 16. ii. 394. 
 
 EXHORTATION TO PLEASURE. H. 
 
 Now, as we rise from the reviving wave, 
 Braid we our locks, my Prodice, with flowers; 
 Drain we deep bowls of wine, and wisely save 
 From slow-paced Care Youth's transitory hours. 
 For withering Age upon our path attends, 
 Joys drop by joys, and Death the picture ends. 
 
 Rufinus, 20. ii. 395. 
 THE DENIAL OF LOVE. M. 
 
 Why will Melissa, young and fair, 
 
 Still her virgin love deny, 
 When every motion, every air, 
 The passion of her soul declare, 
 
 And give her words the fye ? 
 
 That panting breath, that broken sigh, 
 And those limbs that trembling fail 
 And that dark hollow round your eye 
 (The mark of Cupid's archery) » 
 Too plainly tell the tale. 
 C 
 
18 AMATORY. 
 
 But, oh thou God of soft desire, 
 By thy mother throned above, 
 Oh let not pity quench thine ire, 
 Till, yielding to thy fiercest fire, 
 She cries, at length, " I love." 
 
 Agathias, 21. in. 41. 
 THE AMOROUS ARTIFICE. B. 
 
 In wayward mood, by artifice I strove 
 
 To try the fervour of my Helen's love ; 
 
 And " Oh farewell, my dearest girl !" I cried, 
 
 66 Forget me not, when seas and lands divide :" 
 
 Pale at the news, she wept, and in despair 
 
 Her forehead struck, and tore her silken hair, 
 
 And sigh'd " Forsake me not !" By sorrow prest, 
 
 I nod compliance with her fond request, 
 
 I yield, by generous selfishness inspired, 
 
 And hardly grant her what I most desired. 
 
 Julian the Prcefect, 1. ii, 493. 
 
 LOVE AND WINE. M. 
 
 While for my fair a wreathe I twined, 
 Of all the flowers which spring discloses, 
 It was my evil fate to find 
 Cupid lurking in the roses. 
 
AMATORY. 19 
 
 I seized the little struggling boy, 
 I plunged him in the mantling cup, 
 Then pledged it with a rapturous joy, 
 And, mad with triumph, drank him up. 
 
 But ever since, within my breast, 
 All uncontroll'd the urchin rages, 
 Disturbs my labour, breaks my rest, 
 And an eternal warfare wages. 
 
 Argentarius, 1. ii. 267. 
 THE TEST OF LOVE. M. 
 
 Call it not a test of love 
 If sun-like beauty lights the flame. 
 Beauty every heart can move : 
 It delights the gods above, 
 . And is to all the same. 
 
 But if thy fond doting eye, 
 Has taught thy heart a different creed ; 
 If for wrinkled age you'll sigh, 
 Or adore deformity, 
 
 Then you must love indeed. 
 
20 AMATORY. 
 
 Paul, 32. iii. 81. 
 THE VICTORY OF VENUS. M. 
 
 In my green and tender age, 
 
 I the queen of love defied, 
 
 SteelM my heart against her rage, 
 x And her arts repell'd with pride. 
 
 Inaccessible before, 
 Now, almost grey, I burn the more. 
 
 Venus, laughing hear the vow 
 By your slave repentant made ! 
 Greater far your triumph now 
 Than of old in Ida's shade. 
 There a boy adjudged the prize — 
 Here Pallas from the contest flies. 
 
 Paul, 23. iii. 78. 
 THE CHAIN OE LOVE. M. 
 
 In wanton sport, my Doris from her fair 
 And glossy tresses tore a straggling hair, 
 And bound my hands, as if of conquest vain, 
 And I some royal captive in her chain. 
 At first I laugh'd — " This fetter, lovely maid, 
 Is lightly worn, and soon dissolv'd," I said. 
 
AMATORY. 21 
 
 I said — but ah I had not leam'd to prove 
 How strong the fetters that are forged by love. 
 That little thread of gold I strove to sever 
 Was bound like steel about my heart for ever ; 
 And, from that luckless hour, my tyrant fair 
 Has led and turn'd me by a single hair. 
 
 Philodemus, 10. ii. 85. 
 CONSTANCY. M. 
 
 My Helen is little and brown ; but more tender 
 Than the cygnet's soft down, or the plumage of doves ; 
 And her form, like the ivy is graceful and slender, 
 Like the ivy entwined round the tree that it loves. 
 
 Her voice — not thy cestus, oh Goddess of pleasure, 
 Can so melt with desire or with ecstasy burn ; 
 Her kindness unbounded, she gives without measure 
 To her languishing lover, and asks no return. 
 
 Such a girl is my Helen — then never, ah never, 
 Let my amorous heart, mighty Venus, forget her, 
 Oh grant me to keep my sweet mistress for ever, 
 — For ever — at least, till you send me a better ! 
 
2 AMATORY. 
 
 Paul, 39. iii. 88. 
 THE FAREWELL. M. 
 
 When I meant, lovely Ida, to bid thee farewell, 
 My faultering voice the sad office denied — 
 From my lips broken accents of tenderness fell, 
 And I remain'd motionless, close at your side. 
 
 Nor wonder, sweet girl, at the baffled endeavour — 
 The pang of the moment that tears me away 
 Can only be equalled by that which for ever 
 Shuts out from^my soul the blest prospect of day. 
 
 Oh Ida ! 'tis thou art my day ! 'tis to thee 
 I look for the light that should make me rejoice ; 
 Thy presence the day-spring of pleasure to me 
 — But raptures of paradise dwell on thy voice. 
 
 Thy voice — (how far sweeter than aught that is feign'd, 
 Of Syrens or mermaids that float on the wave !) 
 It holds all my joys, all my passions enchain'd, 
 And is able alike to destroy me or save. 
 
AMATORY. 23 
 
 Agathias, 16. iii. 39. 
 LOVE AND WINE. B. 
 
 Farewell to wine ! or, if thou bid me sip, 
 Present the cup more honour'd from thy lip ! 
 Pour'd by thy hand, to rosy draughts I fly, 
 And cast away my dull sobriety ; 
 For, as I drink, soft raptures tell my soul 
 That lovely Glycera has kissed the bowl. 
 
 Meleager, 94. i. 27. 
 THE KISS. 
 
 Blest is the goblet, oh how blest, 
 Which Lesbia's rosy lips have prest ! 
 Oh ! might thy lips but meet with mine, 
 My soul should melt away in thine. 
 
 PARAPHRASE OF PHILOSTRATUS: 
 
 B. JONSON. 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine, 
 Or leave a kiss within the cup, 
 
 And I'll not ask for wine 
 
24 AMATORY. 
 
 The thirst that from the soul doth rise, 
 
 Demands a drink divine, 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sip, 
 
 I would not change for thine. 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreathe, 
 Not so much honouring thee, 
 
 As giving it a hope, that here 
 It might not withered be. 
 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe, 
 
 And send'st it back to me, 
 Since when, it grows, and smells, I swear, 
 
 Not of itself, but thee. 
 
AMATORY. 25 
 
 FROM THF 
 
 PASTORAL AND LYRIC POETS, 
 
 Theocritus. Idyll. 
 THE CYCLOPS. M. 
 
 For Love no potent medicine is known, 
 No true physician but the Muse alone ; 
 Lenient her balmy hand, and sweetly sure, 
 But few are they for whom she works the cure. 
 This truth my gentle Nicias holds divine, 
 Favour'd alike by Paean and the Nine ; 
 This truth, long since, within his rugged breast, 
 Torn with fierce passion, Polypheme confest. 
 
 'Twas when advancing manhood first had shed 
 The early pride of summer o'er his head, 
 His Galatea on these plains he wooed, 
 But not, like other swains, the nymph pursued 
 With fragrant flowers, or fruits, or garlands fair, 
 But with hot madness and abrupt despair. 
 And while his bleating flocks neglected sought 
 Without a shepherd's care their fold self-taught, 
 
26 AMATORY. 
 
 He, wandering on the sea-beat shore all day, 
 Sang of his hopeless love, and pined away. 
 From morning's dawn he sang, till evening's close ; 
 Fierce were the pangs that robb'd him of repose ; 
 The mighty queen of love had barb'd the dart, 
 And deeply fix'd it rankling in his heart. 
 Then song assuaged the tortures of his mind, 
 While, on a rock's commanding height reclined, 
 His eye wide stretching o'er the level main, 
 Thus would he cheat the lingering hours of pain. 
 
 " Fair Galatea, why a lover scorn ? 
 Oh, whiter than the fleece on iEtna born ! 
 Coy, wild, and playful as the mountain-roe, 
 Bright as the cluster'd vine's meridian glow ! 
 You come when sleep has seal'd my eye in night; 
 Smile on my dreams, and rouse me to delight— 
 I wake — your image flies unkind away, 
 Or melts and fades before the coming day. 
 I loved thee, maid, from that delicious hour, 
 When with your mother first you sought my bower ; 
 I was the guide that led you on your way, 
 And show'd you where the fairest hyacinths lay. 
 I lov'd thee then, and since those days are o'er, 
 Have never ceas'd to love thee and adore ! 
 But you, fair virgin, care not for my pain — 
 I know you care not, and my pray'rs are vain. 
 'Tis not this rugged front, this lowering brow, 
 (For ever haggard, but more haggard now) — 
 
AMATORY. 27 
 
 'Tis not this single eye of scorching fire 
 (More scorching with the pangs of hot desire) 
 Can win a ferhale heart, or hope to move 
 A virgin's young and tender breast to love. 
 Yet, tho' so rude, a thousand sheep I feed, 
 Bounteous in milk, and plenteous in their breed ; 
 A still succeeding store my churns supply, 
 For ever yielding, and yet never dry. 
 Yet, rugged as I am, my breath can make * 
 The simple reed to softest music wake. 
 None of my fellow swains can sing like me, 
 Tuning my vocal pipe, sweet maid, to thee. 
 How oft the listening hills have heard my song 
 Ascending from the vale the whole night long ! 
 O come, dear maid, to me ! and thou shalt hear 
 The surgy billow roar, and feel no fear ; 
 While safely guarded in my arms you lie, 
 Safe in this cavern from the inclement sky ! 
 Oh come to me ! the verdant laurels wave 
 With lofty cedars o'er this quiet cave. 
 There amorous ivy creeps, and intertwines 
 With swelling clusters of the richest vines, 
 There crystal springs more cool than iEtna's snow 
 Gush from the hills and round my arbours flow : 
 The limpid beverage from the fountain's brink 
 (Worthy of gods !) shall Galatea drink. 
 — What if I seem uncouth ? this spreading wood, 
 When winter strews the plain and binds the flood, 
 
28 AMATORY 
 
 Is all my own — and through the evil days 
 
 Our cheerful hearth with constant fires shall blaze. 
 
 Oh; had my mother given me but to glide 
 
 With cutting fins beneath the billowy tide, 
 
 I then had sought thy coral cave, my fair, 
 
 And brought the sweetest presents of the year ; 
 
 The snowy lily from our summer's bowers, 
 
 And poppy, nursed by autumn's dying hours ; 
 
 Then might I kiss thy lovely hand, and sip, 
 
 (Oh daring thought ?) the honey of thy lip 
 
 — Then leave, fair nymph, those caverns where you play ; 
 
 And, having left, forget your homeward way ! 
 
 Come, tend my sheep with me, or for me squeeze 
 
 The hardening curd, and press the snow white cheese, 
 
 — Where are thy senses, Polypheny oh where ? 
 
 She heeds not thy complaint, she mocks thy pray'r. 
 
 Go to thy sheep again, 'twere better bind 
 
 These ruin'd wattels, and keep out the wind, 
 
 Than thus pursue with unavailing pain 
 
 A scornful daughter of the unpitying main. 
 
 Go to thy home, poor wretch ! In yonder grove 
 
 Are many nymphs, and some may heed thy love. 
 
 —There are (and those among the loveliest fair) 
 
 Who bid me tend their flocks, their revels share ; 
 
 I shunn'd their haunts and fled from them before ; 
 
 But now grown wiser, I'll refuse no more. 
 
 Oft have they laugh'd to see my passion burnj 
 
 They'll laugh no longer when I home return— 
 
AMATORY. 29 
 
 Then, haughty Galatea, shalt thou prove 
 That thou hast scorn'd what gentler virgins love !" 
 — Thus sang the uncouth swain where iEtna's brow 
 Hangs awful frowning o'er the deep below : 
 Thus would he feed his love, and with the strain 
 He calm'd his troubled heart and eased his pain. 
 
 Bion. Idyll. XVI. 
 THE LAMENTATION OF THE CYCLOPS. B. 
 
 Yet will I go beside the sounding main, 
 
 And to yon solitary crags complain ; 
 
 And, onward wandering by the sounding shore, 
 
 The scorn of Galatea's brow deplore : 
 
 But oh sweet Hope ! Be present to my heart, 
 
 Nor with my latest, feeblest age depart 
 
 Bion. Idyll. XI. 
 HYMN TO THE EVENING STAR. M 
 
 Mild star of Eve, whose tranquil beams 
 Are grateful to the Queen of Love 
 
 Fair planet, whose effulgence gleams 
 More bright than all the host above 
 
 And only to the moon's clear light 
 
 Yields the first honours of the night ! 
 
30 AMATORY. 
 
 All hail, thou soft, thou holy star, 
 Thou glory of the midnight sky ! 
 
 And when my steps are wandering far, 
 Leading the shepherd-minstrelsy, 
 
 Then, if the moon deny her ray, 
 
 Oh guide me, Hesper, on my way ! 
 
 No savage robber of the dark, 
 No foul assassin claims thy aid, 
 
 To guide his dagger to its mark, 
 
 Or light him on his plund'ring trade ; 
 
 My gentler errand is to prove 
 
 The transports of requited love. 
 
 Moschus. Idyll, 1th. 
 ALPHEUS AND ARETHUSA. M. 
 
 From where his silver waters glide 
 Majestic, to the ocean-tide 
 
 Thro' fair Olympiads plain, 
 Still his dark course Alpheus keeps 
 Beneath the mantle of the deeps, 
 
 Nor mixes with the main. 
 
AMATORY. 31 
 
 To grace his distant bride, he pours 
 The sands of Pisa's sacred shores, 
 
 And flowers that deck'd her grove ; 
 And, rising from the unconscious brine, 
 On Arethusa's breast divine 
 
 Receives the meed of love. 
 
 'Tis thus with soft bewitching skill 
 The childish god deludes our will, 
 
 And triumphs o'er our pride ; 
 The mighty river owns his force, 
 Bends to the sway his winding course, 
 
 And dives beneath the tide. 
 
 Bion. Idyll. 2d. 
 WINGED LOVE. X. 
 
 Chasing his feathered game within the grove 
 Young Thyrsis saw th' averted form of Love 
 Perched on a boxen bough ; with joy he cries 
 t( This giant-bird will prove a noble prize." 
 His shafts he culls, applies them to his bow, 
 And marks Love's frolic gambols to and fro ; 
 But vain his skill — his shafts, that miss their aim, 
 He spurns indignant, and with conscious sharne 
 Hastes to the seer who taught him first the way 
 With certain aim to strike the winged prey. 
 He told his tale, and bad him u look, and see 
 The giant-bird still perched on yonder tree." 
 
32 AMATORY. 
 
 The seer attentive shook his prescient head, 
 And with a smile, a parent's smile, he said, 
 
 " Forbear the chase — fly from this bird, my child, 
 Away»— the prey you seek is savage, wild — - 
 Blest wilt thou prove whilst he eludes thy snares, 
 Outwings thy shafts, and no return prepares. 
 To manhood grown, this bird, which now retires, 
 And shuns thy aim, and thwarts thy fierce desires, 
 Will haste unsought, and, 'spite of bow and dart, 
 Play round thy head, and perch upon thy heart.'* 
 
 ANACREON. ODE XXXIV. M. 
 
 Fly not, because revolving time, 
 Hath silver'd o'er Anacreon's brow, 
 
 Nor, glorying in thy flowery prime, 
 Reject the incense of his vow ! 
 
 Think'st thou my winter ill agrees 
 
 With the young charms thy spring discloses ? 
 Remember, how those garlands please 
 
 Where lilies mingle with the roses ! 
 
AMATORY. 33 
 
 A3STACREON. ODE XX. M. 
 
 Sad Niobe, in cold despair, 
 Was fix'd, a stone, on Phrygia's shore ; 
 And through the boundless fields of air 
 'Twas given Pandion's child to soar. 
 
 But I, a different change requiring, 
 Make every vow for thee, my fair ; 
 Sometimes a mirror's form desiring, 
 Thine image on my breast to bear ; 
 
 Or, as a robe, with soft embraces, 
 About thy snowy limbs to fold ; 
 Or, as a crystal stream, thy graces 
 In mine encircling arms to hold ; 
 
 A golden chain, with many a kiss 
 Around thy snowy neck to twine ; 
 Or on thy breast, that heaven of bliss 
 And love, a radiant pearl, to shine : 
 
 Or with a humbler fate delighted, 
 A sandal for thy feet I'd be : 
 Trampled upon, neglected, slighted, 
 Ev'n this would be felicity. 
 D 
 
43 AMATORY. 
 
 Imitatedfrom Moschus* 
 
 CUPID TURNED PLOUGHMAN. 
 
 Prior* 
 
 His lamp, his bow, and quiver, laid aside, 
 
 A rustic wallet o'er his shoulders tied, 
 
 Sly Cupid, always on new mischiefs bent, 
 
 To the rich field, and furrow'd tillage went ; 
 
 Like any ploughman toil'd the little god, 
 
 His tune he whistled, and his wheat he sow'd; 
 
 Then sat and laugh'd, and to the skies above, 
 
 Raising his eye, he thus insulted Jove : 
 
 " Lay by your hail, your hurtful storms restrain, 
 
 And, as I bid you, let it shine or rain ; 
 
 Else you again beneath my yoke shall bow, 
 
 Feel the sharp goad, and draw the servile plough ;, 
 
 What once Europa was, Nannette is now." 
 
 SAPPHO. 
 
 A. Phillips. 
 
 Blest as the immortal Gods is he, 
 The youth who fondly sits by thee, 
 And hears and sees thee, all the while. 
 Softly speak, and sweetly smile. 
 
AMATORY. 35 
 
 Twas this deprived my soul of rest, 
 And raised such tumults in my breast 5 
 For, while I gazed, in transport tost, 
 My breath was gone, my voice was lost ; 
 
 My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame 
 Ran quick through all my vital frame ; 
 O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; 
 My ears with hollow murmurs rung. 
 
 In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; 
 My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; 
 My feeble pulse forgot to play ; 
 I fainted, sunk, and died away. 
 
 THE LATTER PART OF THE SAME ODE ATTEMPT- 
 ED MORE LITERALLY. M. 
 
 My trembling tongue hath lost its power, 
 Slow, subtle fires my frame devour ; 
 My sight is fled ; around me swim 
 Low dizzy murmurs ; every limb 
 Cold creeping dews o'erspread ; I feel 
 A shivering tremor o'er me steal ; 
 Paler than grass I grow 5 my breath 
 Pants in short gasps ; I seem like death. 
 
36 AMATORY. 
 
 SAPPHO S HYMN TO VENUS. 
 
 A. Phillips. 
 
 Oh Venus, beauty of the skies, 
 To whom a thousand temples rise, 
 Gaily false in gentle smiles, 
 Full of love-perplexing wiles : 
 Oh Goddess ! from my heart remove 
 The Wasting cares and pains of love. 
 
 If ever thou hast kindly heard 
 
 A song in soft distress preferr'd, 
 
 Propitious to my tuneful vow, 
 
 Oh, gentle Goddess ! hear one now, 
 
 Descend, thou bright, immortal guest, 
 
 In all thy radiant charms confest. 
 
 Thou once didst leave almighty Jove, 
 And all the golden roofs above, 
 The car thy wanton sparrows drew : 
 Hovering in air they lightly flew : 
 As to my bower they wing'd their way 
 I saw their quivering pinions play. 
 
AMATORY. 37 
 
 The birds dismist (while you remain) 
 Bore back their empty car again : 
 Then you with looks divinely mild, 
 In every heavenly feature smiled, 
 And asked what new complaints I made, 
 And why I called you to my aid : , 
 
 What frenzy in my bosom raged, 
 And by what cure to be assuaged, 
 What gentle youth I would allure, 
 Whom in thy artful toils secure : 
 Who does my tender heart subdue, . 
 Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who ? 
 
 Tho* now he shuns thy longing arms, 
 
 He soon shall court thy slighted charms : 
 
 Tho' now thy offerings he despise 
 
 He soon to thee shall sacrifice : 
 
 Tho' now he freeze, he soon shall burn, 
 
 And be thy victim in his turn. 
 
 Celestial visitant, once more 
 Thy needful presence I implore ! 
 In pity come and ease my grief, 
 Bring my distempered soul relief, 
 Favour thy suppliant's hidden fires, 
 And give me all my heart desires. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 AMATORY. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 AMATORY. 
 
 " Sea-wandering barks, that o'er the JEgean sail ." p. 1. 
 
 The Poet may be supposed walking on the sea-coast. 
 He sees numberless vessels passing and repassing over 
 the Hellespont, and tells them to bear tidings from him 
 to the lady of his affections, whom, it seems, he was 
 expecting soon to visit. The sixth line in the original 
 has caused much dispute. Its literal interpretation is 5 
 " Expect me not as a sailor, but as one who travels on 
 foot to behold you 5" a hyperbolical expression, im- 
 plying (says Jacobs) " The desire of seeing you will 
 support me over the seas, even without the aid of a ship." 
 The passion of love may well be imagined capable of 
 inspiring such extraordinary energy^ if the mere desire 
 of eating a dinner at another person's expense, has been 
 held sufficiently powerful to produce it. Such was the 
 case of a personage in one of the lost comedies of Alexis : 
 <c Chserephon, having an invitation to supper at 
 Corinth, flew over the sea to the place of rendezvous ; 
 so great was his impatience to partake of the banquet 
 which was offered him." Athenseus, Lib. IV. 
 
42 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 w Sell not thy sacred honour for a feast" p. 2. 
 
 " N'ayant sujet ni de pleurer ni de lire, mais riant et 
 pleurant par compagnie." I cannot now recollect where 
 this sentence occurs. 
 
 " Oft hast thou left the realms of air* 1 p. 2. 
 
 There is a mixture of tenderness and gallantry in this 
 address of Anchises to his heavenly mistress. The Phry- 
 gian hero appears to have had very sufficient cause to 
 complain of her cruelty. The lamentable effect of Jove's 
 thunderbolt, the pain of a deep and incurable wound, 
 was indeed a very severe punishment for one unfortunate 
 moment of unguarded frankness, and may well excuse 
 (says Bayle) the very natural complaints which the droll 
 Scarron makes him utter. 
 
 ce Vieil, cass£, mal-propre a la guerre, 
 Je ne sers de rien sur la terre ; 
 Spectre, qui n'ai plus que la voix, 
 J'y suis un inutile poids, 
 Depuis le tems que de son foudre 
 Jupin me voulut mettre en poudre. 
 — y ai depuis eu, cent fois, envie, 
 De m'aller pendre un beau matin 
 Et finir mon chien de destin." 
 
AMATORY. 43 
 
 " When I left thee, Love, I swore'' p. 3. 
 
 This simple thought, of time being lengthen'd by the 
 absence of Lovers, has never been so well expressed^ 
 because never in so few words, as by Theocritus. f Oi h 
 
 " Chi am a, e chi desia, in un giorno s' invecchia," 
 
 as Salvini has accurately render'd it. Fawkes's translation 
 gives a very inadequate impression of its beauty : 
 
 " Sure thou hast felt, unless thy heart be cold, 
 That faithful Lovers in one day grow old/' 
 
 " For me thy wrinkles have more charms" p. 3. 
 
 In the fair and courteous days of France, when a gay 
 and half romantic gallantry was the universal taste of the 
 young and old, the lofty and the humble, Madame la 
 Mareschale de Mirepoix, already in the winter of her 
 days, but with more wit and warmth of imagination 
 remaining than most of the youngest and gayest ladies 
 of the court, sent to her old admirer, M. le Due de 
 Nivernois, a lock of her grey hair, accompanied by some 
 very pretty and elegant verses descriptive of the regard 
 she felt for him, which age could neither extinguish nor 
 diminish. The Duke's reply is one of the sweetest spe- 
 cimens of gaiety and tenderness that I ever remember to 
 have met with. 
 
44 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Madame de Mirepoix a M. le Due de Nivernois, 
 avec une boucle de ses cheveux. 
 
 Les voila, les cheveux depuis long temps blanchis, 
 D'une longue union qu'ils soient pour vous le gage : 
 
 Je ne regrette rien de ce que ni'ota Tage ; 
 II me laisse de vrais amis. 
 On m'aime presqu'autant, et j'aime davantage. 
 
 L'astre de Tamiti^ luit dans l'hiver des ans, 
 Fruit precieux de l'estime, du gout, et du temps ; 
 
 On ne s'y meprend plus, on cede a son empire, 
 Et Ton joint sous les cheveux blancs 
 Au charrae de s'aimer, le droit de se le dire." 
 
 a Reponse de M. le Due de Nivernois. 
 
 Quoi ! vous parlez de cheveux blancs ? 
 Laissons, laissons courir le temps : 
 
 Que nous importe son ravage ? 
 Les tendres cceurs en sont exempts ; 
 Les Amours sont toujours enfans, 
 
 Et les Graces sont de tout age. 
 
 Pour moi, Themire, je le sens, 
 
 Je suis toujours dans mon printems 
 
 Quand je vous offre mon hommage. 
 Si je n'avois que dix-huit ans 
 Je pouvois aimer plus long-temps, 
 
 Mais non pas aimer davantage." 
 
AMATORY. 45 
 
 For the consolation of those English ladies, who like 
 Madame de Mirepoix, are growing grey, and to assure 
 them that the aged themselves, although not likely to make 
 new conquests, have at least the power of retaining the 
 admirers of their youth, I venture my rude copies of 
 these charming originals. 
 
 Madame de Mirepoix to the Due de Nivernois, with 
 a lock of her hair. 
 
 Look, they are grey— but turn'd to grey 
 These locks our union's date attest, 
 
 Poor spoil that age can bear away, 
 But leaves me yet in friendship blest. 
 
 No change in Friendship's star appears, 
 
 Whose lustre, as in early prime, 
 Flames in the winter of our years, 
 
 Kindled by choice, and fed by time. 
 
 No more the world our flame reproving, 
 Will force our bosoms to repress it ; 
 
 Grey hairs, beside the charm of loving, 
 Allow the freedom to confess it. B. 
 
 Answer of the Duke de Nivernois. 
 
 Talk not of snowy locks — have done — 
 Time runs the same, and let him run — 
 To us what bodes the tyrant's rage ? 
 
46 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 He knows not tender hearts to sever, 
 The little Loves are infants ever, 
 The Graces are of every age. 
 
 To thee, Themira, when I how, 
 For ever in my spring I glow, 
 
 And more in age approve thee. 
 Could I to gay eighteen return, 
 With longer ardour I might burn, 
 
 But dearer could not love thee. B. 
 
 An early attachment strengthened instead of enfeebled 
 by time is no romance. It was felt by Petrarch, who 
 laments the death of Laura at that time of life which 
 allowed the liberty of loving without the scandal. 
 
 e( Presso era il tempo dove amor si scontra 
 Con castitade, ed agli amanti e dato 
 Sedersi insieme, e dir che lor incontra." 
 
 It is well known that Ninon de TEnclos achieved her 
 last conquest on the morning which completed her 
 sixteenth lustre. Indeed, but a short period before that 
 inviting age, so far from despairing herself, she was in 
 the habit of exciting and trifling; with the despair of 
 others. 
 
 It was this bitter feeling that inspired one of her 
 unhappy admirers to send her the following spiteful 
 quatrain. 
 
AMATORY. 47 
 
 The discarded Lover to 'Ninon. 
 
 Unworthy of my heart's alarms, 
 
 With joy I leave you to your pride ; 
 
 My love, ungrateful, lent you charms 
 That sober nature had denied. B. 
 
 Ninon's* Answer. 
 
 Unmoved by all your heart's alarms, 
 I see you leave me without sorrow ; 
 
 But if 'tis true that Love lends charms, 
 
 How came it you forgot to borrow ? B. 
 
 Neither was the author of the above complaint the only 
 disappointed or vindictive lover. Ninon, among her other 
 eccentricities, meddled with philosophy, and was fond of 
 reading Plato. Another lover, indignant at another 
 refusal, wrote an ill-natured pasquinade, in which he 
 suspects, from her age, that she had lived with that great 
 personage. I have lost the lines. 
 
 The oldest admirer of this incomparable model of 
 elegance and voluptuousness was the famous St. Evre- 
 mond. They were nearly of an age. So powerful was 
 her hold over those whom she had once possessed, that 
 she retained under the title of friends, all whom she had 
 ever honoured with a softer name, and the remembrance 
 of her awakened in the aged and respected exile at the 
 
48 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 British court, a tenderness which neither time nor dis- 
 tance could surmount. His quatrain, excited by the 
 intrusion of her image upon him in absence, is surely 
 tender. 
 
 St. Evremond to Ninon. 
 
 No, no— the season to inspire 
 
 A Lover's flame is past; 
 But that of glowing with the fire 
 
 As long as life will last. B. 
 
 The father of Ninon was an Epicurean of the first order, 
 and to his dying injunctions may be partly attributed the 
 disorders of her life. Her attempt was to live (as the 
 French say) en gareon. — And the following couplet, 
 which was intended for her epitaph, shews that she was 
 not unsuccessful^— 
 
 " Ci-git une femme, qui voulut 
 
 Etre un honnete homme, et le fut." 
 
 Here Ninon lies buried, who always aspired 
 
 A good fellow to be ; and was — what she desired. 
 
 Let it be remembered that Ninon was but eighty when 
 she gained her last victory, an age yet tender, in compa- 
 rison with that of Madame Lullin, to whom Voltaire 
 sent a nosegay on the 9th of January, 1759, the day 
 
AMATORY. 49 
 
 which closed her twentieth lustre, with these gallant 
 lines: 
 
 u Nos grands peres vous virent belle. 
 Par votre esprit vous plairez a cent ans i 
 Vous meritez d'epouser Fontenelle, 
 
 Et d'etre sa veuve long-tems." 
 
 " Whether thy locks in jetty radiance play" p. 4. 
 
 In other words, " Whether you wear a black wig or a 
 brown." On the fertile subject of false hair, I shall 
 probably have something to say hereafter. The conceit 
 of the Italian poets, so. remote from Grecian simplicity, 
 is manifest in the following well known Epigram : 
 
 " Ante diem fudere meo de vertice cani," &c. 
 
 Too soon with wintry snow my locks are strown, 
 While in thy absence, Love, I pine away : 
 Black is the scene when heaven's bright sun is gone, 
 But when my sun is set, I turn to gray. M. 
 
 " Cold JRhodope, of beauty vain, replies" p. 5. 
 
 I have been unable to find in Brunck the original of 
 an Epigram which I formerly attributed to Philip of 
 Thessalonica ; and, under this uncertainty, think it 
 better to subjoin it in a note. 
 
 E 
 
50 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 When thou wast younger, Rosalinde, 
 Thy graces every heart delighted, 
 
 Thy love to happier youths inclined, 
 And I alone was scorn'd and slighted. 
 
 When Time, a sure and silent thief, 
 Thy beauty's treasure had invaded, 
 
 For me remain'd a wither'd leaf, 
 
 But ah ! the rose I loved had faded. B. 
 
 This is insolent in the extreme. How far more polite is 
 Daceilly : 
 
 (( Considere moi bien ; regarde bien Clim&ne : 
 Nous naquimes tous deux dans la meme semaine, 
 Tous deux, a cinq jours pres, sommes du meme temps. 
 Cependant vois quel tort me font les Destinies ; 
 Depuis sept mois passes j'ai trente-six ann^es, 
 
 - Et ce charmant objet n'a toujours que vingt ans." 
 
 Look at me well ; then Adeline behold : 
 
 In the same week we both began to live, 
 
 Three days between our births our parents told : 
 
 Bur surely fate has used me very ill ; 
 
 Six months ago I counted thirty-five — 
 
 That charming object is but twenty still. B. 
 
 Horace feelingly laments the decay of his old flame. If 
 his complaint conveyed no consolation to Lyce in her 
 
AMATO.RY. 51 
 
 present decline, it was at least a compliment the most 
 flattering that could be paid to her former beauty. 
 
 u Quo fugit Venus ? Heu, quove color decens ? 
 Quo motus ? quid habes illius, illius 
 Quae spirabat am ores 
 Quae me surpuerat mihi ?" 
 
 Where is the bloom, the power to move, 
 
 And warm a frozen heart to love ?, 
 
 Oh where those earlier graces, fraught 
 
 With all that could a lover sway, 
 That waken'd every tender thought, 
 And stole me from myself away ? B. 
 
 H She, who but late in beauty's pride was seen" p. 6. 
 
 Tirades against the fickle or the merciless in love, are 
 of every language. Bernard (whose more celebrated ode 
 will be introduced into a succeeding note) describes a 
 mistress who had the hardihood to insult, and even to 
 chastise the God himself. See the consequence. 
 
 " L' Amour fouette, 
 " Jupiter, prete moi ta foudre," &c. 
 
 " Jove," said Lycoris, " do but trust 
 To me thy lightning from above, 
 One hour, that I may burn to dust 
 The temple where I met with Love ! 
 
52 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Stout Hercules, to aid me, lend 
 
 Thy shafts, and club of thundering weight, 
 
 Myself and nature to befriend, 
 And slay the monster that I hate. 
 
 Medea, let me learn from you 
 
 Each spell of direst mystery ; 
 Some baneful poison let us brew, 
 
 Like that which Lovers drink, and die 
 
 Ah ! could I have him in my power, 
 While now my rage is at its height,"— 
 
 — " You shall," said Love, " this very hour," 
 And instantly appear'd in sight. 
 
 " Take vengeance ! Punish, if you dare !" 
 Confused to see the urchin God, 
 She took a nosegay that lay there, 
 And made it serve her for a rod. 
 
 And many standers by assert, 
 
 She used it in that gentle way, 
 And trembled so, for fear it hurt, 
 
 That Love mistook the stripes for play. B 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 53 
 
 <( This garland, intertwined with fragrant flowers? 
 
 p. 6. 
 
 Venus is represented, in an ancient gem, with a 
 wreathe of roses in her hand, to indicate the short 
 duration of amorous pleasures ; and the same emblem 
 has been employed for the same purpose by the poets, as 
 well as the painters of every age and nation. I need only 
 refer to the Persian Hafiz, to Catullus and Ovid, Ariosto 
 and Tasso, and to our own Spenser, Waller, and Prior, 
 for striking illustrations of the sentiment conveyed by 
 this Epigram. The old Provengal bards often availed 
 themselves of the same metaphor. Pierre d'Auvergne 
 sends a nightingale to the bower of his beautiful Clairette, 
 to pour out his passionate complaints in her ear. (C Why 
 do you pause ?" concludes the song. — •" Embrace love 
 while it is offered. Seize the happy moment ! It is a 
 flower that quickly passeth away." 
 
 u Je sais bien que ces fleurs nouvelles 
 Sont loin d'egaler vos appas. 
 Ne vous e^norgueillissez pas : 
 Le temps vous fanera comme elles." 
 
 Full well I know, no flowers that blow 
 Are equal to your opening beauty : 
 
 Yet, haughty fair, your pride forbear ! 
 Old Time to all will do his duty. M. 
 
54 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 May I in this place be pardoned a larceny from 
 myself? The following translation of a well known 
 passage of Ariosto (itself imitated from Catullus) forms 
 a part of the knight's complaint in the Lay of Iolante. 
 
 A tender maid is like a flowret sweet 
 
 Within the covert of a garden born ; 
 Nor flock, nor hind annoy the calm retreat. 
 But on the parent stalk it blooms untorn, 
 Refresh'd by vernal rain, and gentle heat, 
 
 The balm of evening, and the dews of morn. 
 Youths, and enamour'd maidens, vie to wear 
 This flower, their bosom's grace, or curl'd around their 
 hair. 
 
 No sooner gather'd from the verdant bough 
 Where fair and blooming to the sight it grew, 
 
 Than all who mark'd its opening beauty blow 
 Forsake the tainted sweet, and faded hue. 
 
 And she who yields, forgetful of her vow, 
 To one but newly loved, another's due, 
 
 Shall live, tho' high for heavenly beauty prized, 
 
 By youths unhonour'd, and by maids despised. B. 
 
 "Witness, thou conscious lamp, and thou, oh night /" p. 7. 
 
 One of Quinault's Madrigals expresses, in very simple 
 and natural language, the feelings of a lover who, after 
 
AMATORY. 55 
 
 enjoying all the happiness of requited affection^ is de- 
 serted by her from whom he had vainly expected invio- 
 lable constancy. 
 
 w Le mal de mes rivaux n'egale pas ma peine," See. 
 
 My rival's anguish ne'er can equal mine ; 
 
 The sweet illusion of a hope made vain 
 
 Ne'er in his bosom can awake a pain, 
 While for the heart you gave me I repine. 
 
 Like him, your scorn I ne'er have proved — 
 
 No doubt my happiness alloy'd : 
 Ah, torturing thought ! to cease to be beloved, 
 And fall from bliss when we have once enjoy 'd. B. 
 
 The following conceit of one of our old English poets 
 is not amiss : 
 
 " Crowned with flowers, I saw faire Amarillis 
 By Thirsis sit, hard by a fount of christal, 
 And with her hand, more white than snow or lilies, 
 On sand she wrote, My faith shall be immortally 
 But sodainely a storme of winde and weather, 
 Blew all her faith and sand away together." 
 
 England's Helicon. 
 
 u Children of Spring, but now in wintry snow" p. 7. 
 
 The occasion of these verses may be thus explained. 
 A lover, in the depth of winter, and on the eve of mar- 
 riage, presents a wreath of hot-house flowers to his 
 
56 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 bride on her birth-day, and accompanies them with this 
 poetical compliment. 
 
 From the days of Anacreon, at least, the rose has ever 
 held the first rank among flowers. The work of illus- 
 tration would be endless, were this observation to be 
 followed by a selection even of the most beautiful pieces 
 of ancient and modern poetry in which its pre-eminence 
 has been made the subject of celebration. To Mr. Boyd, 
 who has so ably fulfilled the task of bringing us ac- 
 quainted with the neglected treasures of Greek eloquence 
 to be found in the Works of some of the early Fathers 
 of the Church, I am indebted for the following spirited 
 paraphrase of a very elegant passage in the Romance of 
 Achilles Tatius. 
 
 " She was then inspired by a softer and more tender 
 muse ; for the rose was the argument of her melody. 
 As far as I am able to recollect it, her song was to this 
 effect : 
 
 HYMN TO THE ROSE. 
 
 If, on Creation's morn, the King of Heaven 
 
 To shrubs and flowers a sovereign lord had given, 
 
 O beauteous Rose, he had anointed thee 
 
 Of shrubs and flowers the sovereign lord to be. 
 
 The spotless emblem of unsullied truth, 
 
 The smile of beauty, and the glow of youth ; 
 
 The garden's pride, the grace of vernal bowers, 
 
 The blush of meadows, and the eye of flowers ; 
 
AMATORY. 57 
 
 It beams resplendent as the orbs above, 
 
 Inviting Paphia's form, and breathing love. 
 
 Blooming with odorous leaves, and petals fair, 
 
 In youthful pride it spreads its silken snare, 
 
 By Zephyr kiss'd it laughs, and woos the fanning air. 
 
 Thus she sang ; and methought upon her lips I saw 
 the flower she had been describing." 
 
 The celebrated Ode of Bernard has not, to my know- 
 ledge, been hitherto translated. 
 
 LA ROSE PAR BERNARD. 
 
 ce Tendre fruit des pleurs d'Aurore, 
 Objet des baisers du Zephyr, 
 Reine de Tempire de Flore, 
 H&te-toi d'epanouir," &c. 
 
 V 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 Fruit of the tears of soft Aurora, 
 Whose kiss to Zephyr lends perfume, 
 Queen o'er the lovely realm of Flora, 
 Haste thee — the season bids thee bloom. 
 
 Alas ! what said I ! yet forego 
 Awhile to face the flaunting day, 
 The instant that shall see thee blow 
 Is that which sees thee fade away. 
 
58 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Flower of the spring Themira grows — 
 Your lustre and your fate agree ; 
 'Tis thine, like her, to bloom, sweet Rose, 
 'Tis hers to pass away like thee. 
 
 Come from thy thorny stem, to grace 
 That airy form, without a peer ; 
 There shalt thou triumph in thy place, 
 As in the palm of beauty here. 
 
 Go — die upon Themira's breast, 
 There find alike a throne and tomb, 
 While, jealous to behold thee blest, 
 I languish for so sweet a doom. 
 
 That dwelling, Rose, thou shalt adorn, 
 And when 'tis thine of bliss to die, 
 A sigh shall bid thee smile new-born, 
 If fair Themira knows to sigh. 
 
 By Love thou shalt not bloom forgot \ 
 To do his bidding be thy pride : 
 Delight her eyes, but hurt them not, 
 Her bosom grace, but do not hide. 
 
 Should any hand profanely dare 
 To come and trouble thy repose, 
 Reserve a thorn against the snare, 
 And treat my rivals as thy foes. B. 
 
AMATORY. 59 
 
 " Curl, ye sweet flowers, ye zephyrs gently breathe" 
 
 P. 7- 
 
 " These are the words of a lover," says Jacobs, " who 
 suspends a garland besprinkled with tears at the gate of 
 his mistress." He proceeds to inform us that the doors 
 of the Grecian houses had two apertures, an upper and 
 a lower; and the poet must be supposed to have sus- 
 pended his garland from the upper division, so that l( the 
 shower of tears" might rain on the head of the cruel fair 
 one, as she pass'd out of her house through the opening 
 below. Be this as it may, the custom alluded to was 
 very general among the Grecian lovers, who thought, 
 says Athenaeus, that the god of love was represented in 
 the persons of those whom they adored ; that the places 
 of their habitation were the real temples of Cupid, and 
 worthy of being honoured with a veneration peculiar to 
 the gods themselves. Flowers were the favourite em- 
 blems of their feelings and passions. The gay, the 
 luxurious, the happy, bound their brows with garlands 
 at their feasts or marriages ; the despairing, or the un- 
 assured lover, 
 
 u Et quisquis -amores 
 Aut metuet dulces, aut experietur amaros," 
 
 tore off the emblematic crown, and offered it at his mis- 
 tress's door as at the shrine of an offended deity. 
 
60 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " All night I wept, and when the morning rose." p. 9. 
 
 " Une si douce fantaisie 
 Toujours revient ; 
 En songeant qu'il faut que j'oublie 
 II m'en souvient." 
 
 Where'er I go, the fond regret 
 
 I ever find ; 
 And thinking that I should forget 
 
 Does but remind. M. 
 
 " When blest I met my Prodice alone," p. 9. 
 
 The German commentator supposes that this Epigram 
 is intended to satirize the humour of women, who, when 
 they appear all yielding and tender, will often turn round 
 on a sudden, assume a stately air, and spurn from them 
 the lover whom their kindness had emboldened. Surely, 
 a serious interpretation may be given, more consistent 
 with the delicacy, and more honourable to the feeling 
 of the ladies. 
 
 " Go, idle amorous hoys" p. 10. 
 
 The tyranny of mankind, and the unjust subjugation 
 of female power, have been fertile subjects of declama- 
 tion among the ladies, who do not consider that what 
 they lose in direct prerogative is more than made up to 
 
AMATORY. v 61 
 
 (hem in indirect influence. The Italian poet appreciates 
 their real share in the distribution of empire far more 
 justly: 
 
 " Del destin non vi lagnate 
 Se vi rese a noi soggette ; 
 Siete serve, ma regnate 
 Nella vostra servitu. 
 Forti noi, voi belle siete, 
 E vincete in ogni impresa 
 Quando vengono alia contesa 
 La bellezza e la virtu." 
 
 (Metastasio. L' Olympiade.) 
 
 Lovely sex, no more arraign 
 Fate, that made you what you are. 
 Slaves you are, but be your pride 
 Still to triumph in your chain. 
 We are strong and you are fair, 
 Yet the strong must ever yield 
 When you bring into the field 
 Grace and virtue on your side. B. 
 
 u Now the white snow-drop decks the mead" p. 12. 
 
 Thus in . the " Loves of Clitophon and Leucippe/' 
 Lib. i. p. 44, where the lover being in company with 
 his mistress in a beautiful meadow diversified with 
 
62 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 flowers, embraces the opportunity, of discoursing to her 
 concerning the loves of the plants ; u Yet was her own 
 beauty/' he observes, " quite equal to contend with that 
 of the flowers in the meadow. The hue of the narcissus 
 glowed on her forehead, of the rose on her cheek : the 
 lustre of her eyes might be compared with the bright- 
 ness of the violet : her undulating tresses resembled the 
 intertwining tendrils of the ivy." 
 
 " We ask nojlmver to crown the blushing rose ." p. 13. 
 
 The lady in question might, according to J. B. Rous- 
 seau, possess all these charms, and yet fail of being 
 
 charming. 
 
 * Contre Madame de * * *. 
 Elle a, dit-on, cette bouche et ces yeux 
 Par qui d' Amour Psyche devint maitresse," &c. 
 
 She has, I grant, the mouth, the eye, 
 
 The gracious smile, the form, the mien, 
 
 She has all Love's artillery, 
 
 She stands, she looks, she moves a queen. 
 
 At court her air, her wit prevails, 
 
 She talks with sense, she writes with ease ; 
 
 There's not a point in which she fails, 
 
 Except — in what ? — the gift to please. B. 
 
AMATORY. 63 
 
 u 'Not yet the blossoms of the spring decayed" p. 13. 
 
 How great is the advantage which modern poets 
 derive from the very simplicity and nakedness of the 
 ancients ! compare with the thought in this epigram. 
 Waller's beautiful stanzas K to my young Lady Lucy 
 Sidney." 
 
 ce Why came I so untimely forth 
 
 Into a world that, wanting thee, 
 Could entertain us with no worth 
 
 Or shadow of felicity ? 
 That time should me so far remove 
 From that which I was born to love ! 
 
 Yet, fairest blossom ! do not slight 
 
 That age which you may know too soon : 
 
 The rosy morn resigns her light 
 And milder glory to the noon ; 
 
 And-then what wonders shall you do, 
 
 Whose dawning beauty warms us so ? 
 
 Hope waits upon the flowery prime 
 And summer, though it be less gay, 
 
 Yet is not look'd on as a time 
 Of declination or decay : 
 
 For with a full hand that doth bring 
 
 All that was promis'd by the spring." 
 
64 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ee By the god of Arcadia, so sweet are the notes" p. 1 5. 
 
 The gallants of antiquity are no way inferior to those 
 of modern days in their admiration of female singers. 
 It is probable that even more opera girls were kept by 
 the great men of Athens than by all the Financiers of 
 Paris in the last century. Nor was this taste confined 
 to the rich. iC You are either mad or doating ;" says 
 the fisherman to his companion, in one of Alciphron's 
 Epistles, " I hear you have fallen in love with a singing 
 girl, and that you bestow upon her every day in presents 
 more than the produce of your daily labour. What, in the 
 name of Jupiter, have you to do with diatones, and 
 chromatics, and enharmonics, and all the jargon of 
 music ? you may like the girl's person ; but how can 
 you pretend to be enamoured of her crotchets ? if you 
 don't get rid of this foolish amour in good time, you may 
 as well drown yourself and appoint a rendezvous with 
 your mistress at the bottom of the sea." The answer of 
 poor Thalasseros betrays the inveteracy of his disease. 
 
 Waller exceeds both Philodemus and Meleager in 
 tenderness, if not in simplicity : 
 
 " When I listen to thy voice, 
 
 Chloris, I feel my life decay ; 
 
 That pow'rful noise 
 Calls my fleeting soul away. 
 Oh, suppress that magic sound, 
 Which destroys without a wound. 
 
AMATORY, 65 
 
 Peace, Chloris, peace ; or singing die ! 
 That, together, you and I 
 To Heaven may go ; 
 For all we know 
 Of what the blessed do above, 
 Is, that they sing, and that they love." 
 
 " Why will Melissa, young and fair" p. 17. 
 
 "And that dark hollow round her eye" &c. an 
 expression only to be justified by its fidelity to the original, 
 xoi\ai §Xz$upctiv toTwreis Gueisc. Jacobs reminds us of the 
 description of Psyche in Apuleius, u ab isto titubante et 
 saepius vacillante vestigio, deque rrfmis pallore corporis, 
 et assiduo suspiratu, immo et ipsis marcentibus oculis 
 tuis, amore nimio laboras ;" and that of another lady in 
 the same author, ee Pallor deformis, marcentes oculi, 
 lassa genua, quies turbida, et suspiratus cruciatus tardi- 
 tate vehementior. Heu medicorum ignaras mentes ! 
 Quid venae pulsus, quid caloris intemperantia, quid fa- 
 tigatus anhelitus, et utrinque secus jactatae crebriter 
 laterum mutuae vicissitudines ?" 
 
 Perhaps, after all, poor Melissa (the Melissias of 
 Rufinus) might have replied to her importunate lover, 
 with Madame Des-Houlieres: 
 
66 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 u Pourquoi me reprocher, Sylvandre, 
 Que je vous promets tout pour ne vous rien tenir ? 
 Helas ! c'est moins a moi qu'a vous qu'il s'en faut prendre : 
 Pour remplir vos desirs, j'attens un moment tendre. 
 Que ne vous faites vous venir?" 
 
 Spare the reproof — there's harshness in it — 
 That; for my word, I never mind it : 
 To grant you all, I ask one tender minute — 
 Is it not yours to find it? B. 
 
 cc While for my fair a wreathe I twined" p. 18. 
 
 M. Chardon de la Rochette has given us two French 
 versions of this spirited Anacreontic, written in MS, on 
 the margin of a copy of Cornarius's edition of the An- 
 thology, formerly in the possession of J. Dacier. The 
 following is the best of the two : 
 
 " Je tissoy, de franches fleurs, 
 Un chapelet d'aventure, 
 Grivote de cent couleurs ; 
 Quand, sur la jeune verdure, 
 Je rencontre, a la mal'heure, 
 Amour, que je plonge au vin : 
 Je le beu, dont j'en endure 
 Un cruel tourment, sans fin." 
 
 (Melanges d'Hist. et de Philologie, i, 265.) 
 
AMATORY. 67 
 
 u In my green and tender age" p. 20. 
 
 The French poet, Malesherbes, is somewhat wiser, but 
 not less lively, on a similar subject.- He thus addresses 
 the Muses : 
 
 " Quand le sang, bouillant en mes veines, 
 Me donnoit de jeunes desirs," &c. 
 
 While youth was boiling in my veins, 
 And warm desire inspired your measures, 
 
 Sometimes you sigh'd my amorous pains, 
 And sometimes sang my wanton pleasures. 
 
 But now that slow and silent Time 
 
 Hath stolen the honours of my prime, 
 
 Say, would it profit my fair fame, 
 In drivelling verses to discover 
 
 The dull amours, and languid flame 
 Of an old doting gray-beard lover ? M. 
 
 u Un Vieillard" (said Menage) " ne doit plus s'occuper 
 a faire l'amour, principalement, lorsqu'il commence a se 
 servir de lunettes. C'est le proverbe qui le dit ; 
 
 Bon jour, Lunette ; adieu, Fillette " 
 
68 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " In wanton sport, my Doris from her fair" p. 20. 
 So the old English song, 
 
 " Have I found her ? Oh rich finding, 
 
 Goddess-like for to behold, 
 Her faire tresses seemely binding 
 
 In a chaine of pearle and gold ! 
 Chaine mee, chaine mee, oh most faire, 
 Chaine mee to thee with that haire !" 
 
 " He loves you, Calice, and is even now consumed in 
 the delicious fire which your charms have enkindled ; 
 he is hanged in the tangles of your hair, and must 
 soon perish and become the mere shadow of a shade, 
 unless you relieve him by some powerful medicine." 
 
 (Aristaenetus, Lib. ii. Ep. 1.) 
 
 Both the expression in Aristaenetus, and that in the 
 
 Epigram, have reference to the Greek proverb, Ex Tpi^ps 
 
 HpspciTou, applied to those who are entangled in some 
 
 inextricable difficulty. 
 
 " Farewell to wine ! or, if thou hid me sip." p. 23. 
 
 This alludes to a piece of gallantry not unfrequent 
 among the Greeks, of which we have the following 
 account in the Romance of Clitophon and Leucippe : 
 « When we were all assembled together at supper, the 
 cup-bearer furnished us with a new artifice of love ; for 
 
AMATORY. 69 
 
 in pouring out the wine to Leucippe and myself, he 
 exchanged our cups ; and I, observing that part of the 
 cup where her lips had been, drank from the same side, 
 and pleased myself with the image of a kiss ; which 
 Leucippe seeing, she did the same : and the kind cup- 
 bearer frequently employing the same stratagem to 
 favour us, we consumed the whole evening in pledging 
 each other with these fanciful kisses." 
 So the Coquette in Aristsenetus : 
 " Next she affectedly would sip 
 
 The liquor that had touch'd his lip ; 
 
 He, whose whole thoughts to love incline, 
 
 And heated with enlivening wine, 
 
 With interest repays her glances, 
 
 And answers all her kind advances. 
 
 Thus sip they from the goblet's brink 
 
 Each other's kisses, while they drink." 
 
 (Translation of Arist. 1771.) 
 
 •* The Phrygian boy" is recorded to have adopted the 
 same expedient when he paid his courtship to the nymph 
 of Ida: 
 
 " . ~=modo pocula proxima nobis 
 
 Sumis ; quaque bibi, tu quoque parte bibis." 
 
 In the tale of Schemselnihar, (Arabian Nights Enter- 
 tainments,) the favourite of Haroun Alraschid, and the 
 enamoured Prince of Persia, are represented as disclosing 
 their muiual passion by somewhat similar tokens. 
 
70 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Agathias, in another of his Epigram?, describes a piece 
 of gallantry still more refined. It represents a lady to 
 unbind the girdle which encircled her waist, and throw- 
 ing one end of it across the table to her lover, to apply 
 the other to her own lips. The favoured youth answers 
 the challenge by kissing the end which has been presented 
 to him, and thus (says the poet) " he imbibed, as through 
 a tube, the kiss of his Rhodanthe." These may be agree- 
 able pastimes in the East ; but we should entertain no 
 very high opinion of the ardour of an English lover who, 
 asking for a kiss, would be satisfied with the end of a 
 piece of riband, or the corner of a goblet. 
 
 " Blest is the goblet, oh how blest." p. 23. 
 
 The conclusion of this little Epigram is similar to the 
 well-known kiss of Agatho, which Fontenelle thus ren- 
 dered into the French language in his dialogue between 
 Plato and Margaret of Scotland : 
 
 ie Lorsqu'Agathis, par un baiser de flame, 
 Consent a me payer des maux que j'ai sentis, 
 Sur mes levres soudain je sens venir mon &me, 
 Qui veut passer sur celles d'Agathis. 
 
 The same thought is adopted by Guarini in the Pastor 
 Fido: 
 
AMATORY. 71 
 
 " Su queste labbra, Ergasto, 
 Tutta sen' venne allor T anima mia : 
 E la mia vita, chiusa 
 In cosi breve spatio, 
 Non era altro che un bacio." 
 
 " Drink to me only ivith thine eyes" p. 23. 
 
 The connexion of this popular song of Ben Jonson's 
 with the subject of the two preceding Epigrams, has 
 induced me to subjoin it in the text. Cumberland, I 
 believe, was the first who discovered its origin ; and he 
 thus writes concerning it : "I was surprised, the other day, 
 to find our learned poet, B. Jonson, had been poaching 
 in an obscure collection of love-letters written by the 
 Sophist Philostratus in a very rhapsodical style, merely 
 for the purpose of stringing together a parcel of unnatu- 
 ral, far-fetched conceits, more calculated to disgust a man 
 of Jonson's classic taste, than to put him upon the 
 humble task of copying them, and then fathering the 
 collection." Observer, No. 74. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 
 
 Anacreon. Ode 19. 
 THAT IT IS NATURAL TO DRINK. M, 
 
 The black Earth drinks the falling rain, 
 Trees drink the moisten'd Earth again ; 
 Ocean drinks the mountain gales ; 
 Ocean's self the Sun inhales ; 
 And the Sun's bright rays as soon 
 Are swallow'd by the thirsty Moon. 
 All Nature drinks — if I would sip, 
 Why dash the nectar from my lip ? 
 
 Anacreon. Ode 17. 
 THE GOBLET. M, 
 
 I do not want the rolling car, 
 Helm, or shield with silver bound- 
 What have I to do with war ? 
 But a goblet deep and round. 
 
76 CONVIVIAL, 
 
 Carve not on its polish'd side, 
 Star, nor planet's varied form, 
 Those that rule the angry tide, 
 Or direct the rising storm. 
 
 Let a vine the cup surround, 
 Clasping with its tendrils fine ', 
 And amid the golden ground, 
 Raise a vat of new-made wine. 
 
 Then the festal chorus leading, 
 Carve the Theban God above ; 
 And the mellow vintage treading, 
 Cupid, with the maid I love. 
 
 Anacreon, 84. i. 119. 
 GOOD FELLOWSHIP. B. 
 
 Ne'er shall that man a comrade be, 
 
 Or drink a generous glass with me, 
 
 Who o'er his bumpers brags of scars, 
 
 Of noisy broils, and mournful wars ; 
 
 But welcome thou congenial soul, 
 
 And share my purse and drain my bowl, 
 
 Who canst in social knot combine 
 
 The Muse, Good Humour, Love, and Wine. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 77 
 
 Palladas, 4. ii. 407. 
 
 ANACREONTIC. M. 
 
 The laughing women call me old, 
 And bid me in the glass behold 
 
 The ruins of my former state ; 
 But let the locks my temples bear 
 Be gray or black, I little care, 
 
 And leave it to the will of Fate. 
 
 Yet this I know — tho' Nature's call 
 Subjects me to the lot of all, 
 
 Still, as my ebbing days decline, 
 I'll make the most of my short hours, 
 Be bathed in odours, crown'd with flowers, 
 
 And drown old care in floods of wine. 
 
 ScoU IS. i. 91. 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 Quaff with me the purple wine, 
 And in youthful pleasures join ; 
 Crown with me thy flowing hair, 
 With me love the blooming fair. 
 When sweet madness fires my soul, 
 Thou shalt rave without control ; 
 When I'm sober, sink with me 
 Into dull sobriety. 
 
78 CONVIVIAL. 
 
 Macedonius, 18. iii. 116. 
 
 ANACREONTIC. M. 
 
 I ask not gold ; I ask not power ; 
 
 I never prayed great Jove to shower 
 
 On me the wealth that Homer sings, 
 
 The grandeur of the Theban kings. 
 
 I shall be well contented, so 
 
 My cup with ceaseless bumpers flow, 
 
 And my moist lips for ever shine 
 
 In honour of the God of wine, 
 
 And friends who share my inmost soul, 
 
 Share also in the fragrant bowl. 
 
 Let the grave and dull possess 
 
 Their toil-won wealth (short happiness !) 
 
 These are my riches, which I'll love 
 
 As long as I'm allow'd by Jove. 
 
 For while the sparkling bowl I drain, 
 
 The boasts of pride and pomp are vain. 
 
 Uncertain, 81. iii. 166. 
 ANACREONTIC. M. 
 
 Drink and rejoice ! What comes to-morrow, 
 
 Or what the future can bestow 
 Of pain or pleasure, joy or sorrow, 
 
 Man is not wise enough to know. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 79 
 
 Oh bid farewell to care and labour ! 
 
 Enjoy your life while yet you may. 
 Impart your blessings to your neighbour, 
 
 And give your hours to frolic play. 
 
 Life is not life, unblest by beauty, 
 
 By the soft transports Love can give ; 
 Let rapture fill the throne of duty, 
 
 Then life is worth the pains to live. 
 
 But if you scorn the short-lived pleasure, 
 And leave the luscious draught unknown, 
 
 Another claims the valued treasure, 
 And you have nothing of your own 
 
 Strato, 96. ii. 381. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Drink now$ and love, my friend, for mirth and wine 
 Cannot be always yours, nor always mine. 
 With rosy garlands let us crown our head, 
 Nor leave them to be scatter'd o'er the dead. 
 Now let my bones the copious vintage have ; 
 Deucalion's self may float them in the grave. 
 
80 CONVIVIAL. 
 
 Antipater, I. ii. 6. 
 
 ON WINE. B. 
 
 The wizards, at my first nativity, 
 
 Declared, with one accord, I soon should die ; 
 
 What if (o'er all impends that certain fate) 
 
 I visit gloomy Minos soon or late ? 
 
 Wine, like a racer, brings me there with ease, 
 
 The sober souls may walk it, if they please. 
 
 Antipater> 8. ii. 7, 
 UNDER THE ROSE. M. 
 
 Not the planet that, sinking in ocean, 
 Foretels future storms to our tars, 
 
 Not the sea, when in fearful commotion 
 Its billows swell high as the stars ; 
 
 Not the thunder that rolls in October, 
 Is so hateful to each honest fellow 
 
 As he who remembers, when sober, 
 
 The tales that were told him when mellow. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 
 
 Rufinus, 23. ii. 395. 
 LOVE AND WINE. B. 
 
 The dart of Cupid I deride, 
 
 And dare him, singly, to the field. 
 
 If Bacchus fight on Cupid's side 5 
 Tis surely no disgrace to yield. 
 
 Asclepiadesy 9. i. 212. 
 LOVE AND WINE. H. 
 
 Drink, Asclepiades ! Why stream thine eyes ? 
 Art thou alone remorseless Beauty's prize ? 
 Hast thou alone sustain'd the piercing darts 
 That sportive Love directs at human hearts ? 
 Why art thou buried thus alive ? The day, 
 The day's our signal — Drink thy cares away ! 
 Wait we again the lamps of drowsy night ? 
 With wine, with wine salute the dawning light ! 
 A few short hours, and all our joys are o'er, 
 We sleep in darkness, and shall drink no more. 
 
 O 
 
82 CONVIVIAL. 
 
 Asclepiadesy 26. i. 216. 
 THE POWER OF WINE. M. 
 
 Snow on ! hail on ! cast darkness all around me ! 
 
 Let loose thy thunders ! with thy lightnings wound me ! 
 
 I care not, Jove, but thy worst rage defy ; 
 
 Nor will I cease to revel, till I die. 
 
 Spare me my life — and let thy thunders roar, 
 
 And lightnings flash — I'll only revel more. 
 
 Thunderer ! a God more potent far than thee, 
 
 To whom thou too hast yielded, maddens me. 
 
 Philodemus. (Anthologia inedita.) 
 
 INVITATION TO THE ANNIVERSARY OF 
 EPICURUS. M. 
 
 To-morrow, Piso, at the evening hour, 
 Thy friend will lead thee to his simple bower, 
 
 To keep with feast our annual twentieth night : 
 If there you miss the flask of Chian wine, 
 Yet hearty friends you'll meet, and, while you dine, 
 
 Hear strains, like those in which the Gods delight. 
 And, if you kindly look on us the while, 
 We'll reap a richer banquet from thy smile. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 83 
 
 Meleager, US. i. 32. 
 
 WINE AND WATER. 
 
 Prior. /, 
 
 Great Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire, 
 By native heat asserts his dreadful sire. 
 Nourish'd near shady hills and cooling streams, 
 He to the nymphs avows his amorous flames. 
 To all the brethren at the Bell and Vine, 
 The moral says, " Mix water with your wine." 
 
 Phoenix of Colophon, (Athenceus, Lib* xiv.) 
 THE VOLUPTUARY. B. 
 
 There lived in former times, as I am told, 
 A man so rich, he scarce could count his gold, 
 Ninus his name — Whate'er he had confess'd 
 His fortune, and kept measure with his chest. 
 He ne'er intruded on the sun ; but kept 
 The night in banquet, and by day-light slept. 
 Not too devout — he ne'er fatigued the skies 
 With idle prayer, and idler sacrifice, 
 Nor searched for truth in entrails of a beast, 
 But hated, worse than ratsbane, every priest, 
 Scarce knew the people subject to his will, 
 Nor cared a straw if things went well or ill : 
 
84 CONVIVIAL. 
 
 But at the feast he shew'd a hero's might, 
 Unrivall'd he in deeds of appetite ; 
 Dish following dish but raised desire to eat, - 
 And bowls but made succeeding bowls more sweet. 
 At last, for death will not be turn'd aside, 
 He went the way of flesh — that is, he died. 
 But lest his fame should with his life expire, 
 That future times might know him and admire, 
 This portrait of himself he left behind, 
 To aid good morals, and instruct mankind : 
 
 " Stranger, whoe'er thou art that wanderest near, 
 For these grave reasons, always keep good cheer : 
 I once was Ninus, and like thee, had breath, 
 But now reduced to nothing, sleep in death. 
 Whate'er I drank and ate are mine, whate'er 
 Was sweet in music, or the charming fair. 
 
 My heirs may quarrel, if they like it, now, 
 To share those goods I could not take below. 
 My gold, my horses, wine, and fair domain, 
 And car of glittering silver, built in vain, 
 My royal mitre too — for now am I 
 Mere dust and silent ashes where I lie/' 
 
CONVIVIAL. 85 
 
 Critias. (Athenaeus, Lib. xiv.) 
 
 ELEGY ON ANACREON. M. 
 
 To thee, Anacreon, founder of the Lay 
 
 That charms the young, the lovely, and the gay, 
 
 Prince of the amorous song ! thy Teos gave 
 
 To win the maiden, and to soothe the brave. 
 
 The comic pipe and tragic flute unknown, 
 
 Thy softer study was the lyre alone. 
 
 That voice so tuneable, so sweetly clear, 
 
 Shall never, never die upon the ear, 
 
 Shall never yield to Time's remorseless power 
 
 While wine and music glad the festal hour ; 
 
 While rosy boys at banquets duly bear 
 
 Their mantling goblets to the young and fair, 
 
 While choirs of matrons chaste, and virgins bright, 
 
 Lead the gay dance on Ceres' sacred night 5 
 
 Or joyous souls their merrier orgies keep, 
 
 And large and long potations banish sleep, 
 
 Till their drain'd goblets dash'd upon the ground, 
 
 Through vaulted roofs and echoing domes resound. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 CONVIVIAL. 
 
 <( The laughing women call me old" p. 77- 
 
 This is too servile an imitation of Anacreon. " Tune, 
 capite cano, amas, senex nequissime ?" says one of the 
 characters in the Merchants of Plautus — " Seu canum, 
 seu istuc rutilum, seu atrum est, amo." So Horace, 
 
 " Cur non sub alt& platano, vel hac 
 Pinu jacentes sic temere, et rosa. 
 Canos odorati capillos, 
 
 Dum licet, Assyriaque nardo 
 Potamus uncti V II. Od. 11. 
 
 The eight or ten odes which Cowley has translated, or 
 rather freely paraphrased, from Anacreon, breathe more 
 of the genuine fire of poetry than any poems (not ori- 
 ginal) either in our own or any other language, that I 
 am acquainted with. It was my wish to have added them 
 to the present Collection, had I not been apprehensive of 
 swelling it unnecessarily by the insertion of so many 
 pieces, already in the possession of all the world. On 
 
SS ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 the other hand, an apology should perhaps he made for 
 those well known poems of Ambrose Phillips and Prior, 
 which have already found a place in this volume, and 
 a few more which will be interspersed in its future divi- 
 sions. It was by no means the design of the work to 
 receive all, or even any considerable number, of miscel- 
 laneous poems of this description; and the selection 
 which is made, though in some instances merely arbi- 
 trary, has been in general guided rather by a view to 
 epigrammatic point and conciseness than any other 
 qualities. 
 
 To return to Anacreon. Which of his numerous 
 modern translators and imitators has done him half so 
 much justice as Cowley, in his inspired version of the 
 Ode beginning Ett* fx,vpo-iMi$ regsivxis ? 
 
 i( Underneath the myrtle shade, 
 On flowery beds supinely laid, 
 Odorous oils my head o'erflowing, 
 And around it roses growing ; 
 What shall I do, but drink away 
 The heat and troubles of the day ? 
 In this more than kingly state, 
 
 Love himself shall on me wait. 
 
 Fill to me, Love ! Nay, fill it up ! 
 
 And mingled cast into the cup 
 
 Wit and mirth and noble fires, 
 
 Vigorous Health and gay desires. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 89 
 
 The wheel of life no less doth stay 
 On a smooth than rugged way : 
 Since it equally doth flee, 
 Let the motion pleasant be !" 
 
 In the convivial odes of Horace there is something 
 peculiarly his own, which gives them the most indispu- 
 table title to originality ; else., I should not have thought 
 of placing Cowley at the Head of all the imitators of 
 Anacreon. 
 
 BOOK I. ODE 38. 
 
 I hate the pomp that Persia shows, 
 And garlands of the linden made ; 
 
 Seek not for me the curious rose, 
 
 With bloom in winter's lap display'd. 
 
 Boy, let the myrtle be thy care, 
 
 And simply deck thy brows and mine ; 
 
 The myrtle only will I wear, 
 
 Drinking beneath the shady vine." H. 
 
 FROM BOOK I. ODE 9. 
 
 Stern winter's call, my friend, obey ! 
 
 Pile high thy blazing hearth with wood, 
 And, more to drive the cold away, 
 
 Let thine old Sabine cask to-day 
 
 Pour forth a nobler flood ! 
 
90 - ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Be this thy care — to Heaven resign 
 
 What after days may have in store ; 
 To Heaven that can the blasts confine, 
 Bid the tall ash and mountain pine 
 
 Toss their proud heads no more." M . 
 
 But Horace himself has introduced this favourite topic 
 into none of his numerous poems, with so much poetical 
 inspiration, as in that beautiful ode, of which I have 
 ventured to attempt a translation in the following lines. 1 
 
 BOOK II. ODE 3. 
 
 When dangers press, a mind sustain 
 
 Unshaken by the storms of fate, 
 And when delight succeeds to pain, 
 
 With no glad insolence elate *; 
 For Death will erid the various toys 
 Of hopes and fears, and cares and joys : 
 
 Mortal alike, if sadly grave 
 
 You pass life's melancholy day, 
 Or, in some green retired cave 
 
 Wearing the idle hours away, 
 Give to the Muses all your soul, 
 And pledge them in the flowing bowl ; 
 
CONVIVIAL. 91 
 
 Where the broad pine, and poplar white 
 
 To join their hospitable shade 
 With intertwisted boughs delight ; 
 
 And, o'er its pebbly bed convey'd, 
 Labours the winding stream to run, 
 Trembling, and glittering to the sun. 
 
 Thy generous wine, and rich perfume, 
 
 And fragrant roses hither bring, 
 That with the early zephyrs bloom 
 
 And wither with declining spring, 
 While joy and youth not yet have fled, 
 And Fate yet holds the uncertain thread. 
 
 You soon must leave your verdant bowers, 
 And groves yourself had taught to grow, 
 
 Your soft retreats from sultry hours 
 Where Tiber's gentle waters flow, 
 
 Soon leave ; and all you call your own 
 
 Be squander'd by an heir unknown. 
 
 Whether of wealth and lineage proud, 
 
 A high patrician name you bear, 
 Or pass ignoble in the crowd, 
 
 Unshelter'd from the midnight air, 
 'Tis all alike \ no age or state 
 Is spared by unrelenting Fate. 
 
92 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 To the same port our barks are bound ; 
 
 One final doom is fix'd for all : 
 The universal wheel goes round, 
 
 And, soon or late, each lot must fall, 
 When all together shall be sent 
 To one eternal banishment. M. 
 
 " The wizards, at my first nativity J* p. 80. 
 
 What is bliss ? what is wisdom ? Dr. Johnson thus 
 puts the question to his hermit : 
 
 " Hermit hoar, in silent cell, 
 Wearing out life's evening gray, 
 Strike thy bosom, sage, and tell, 
 What is bliss, and which the way ?" 
 
 The answer of the sage can hardly be forgotten : 
 
 " Come, my lad, and drink some beer I" 
 
 And, if such was the recommendation of the saint, 
 we need not be much surprised that the sinner Pannard 
 should have solved the same question in a similar manner : 
 
CONVIVIAL. 93 
 
 PERFECT HAPPINESS. 
 
 Clear brook, whose grateful murmur lulls the ear, 
 Charming this dark and melancholy shade, 
 How sweet, beneath the foliage laid, 
 To breathe repose, and taste the vernal year ! 
 
 Near thee, 
 No thought on grandeur or on wealth bestowing, 
 
 I were the happiest, far, of men below : 
 No — nought were wanting to my destiny, 
 Could I but see old claret flowing, 
 
 As now your limpid waters flow ! B. 
 
 Some philosophers define happiness as consisting in 
 the endurance of privations. Du Fresnoy's opinion does 
 not exactly accord with theirs. 
 
 " Pauvre hermite, je veux t'en croire. 
 C'est un grand bien 
 
 De n'avoir rien, de ne desirer rien • 
 Mais, desirer du vin, d'en avoir, et d'en boire, 
 
 C'est, ce me semble, un plus grand bien/' 
 
 Poor anchorite, with thee I think 
 
 That, nought desiring, nought possessing, 
 Is, of itself, a mighty blessing; 
 But, to desire good wine, to have, and drink, 
 Is yet, methinks, a greater blessing. B. 
 
94 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ec Drink, Asclepiades I why stream thine eyes F" p. 81. 
 
 The singular expression in this Epigram, which is 
 loosely rendered " The day's your signal," literally, " The 
 morning is your finger," is borrowed from Alcaeus, of 
 whom Athenaeus has preserved a fragment of the fol- 
 lowing import : " Let us drink ! Why do we wait for 
 candles ? Aoixtv\q$ a^spa." &c. To live without drink- 
 ing is to be buried alive, not only in the opinion of 
 Asclepiades, but in that of Martial, who says that the 
 man who does not feast and anoint himself is little bet- 
 ter than one of the dead : 
 
 " Qui non coenat et ungitur, Fabulle, 
 Hie vere mihi mortuus videtur." 
 
 Dead is the man, who neither drinks nor dines. 
 Give me delicious meats and sparkling wines ! 
 
 Ci Snow on ! hail on ! cast darkness all around me l n 
 
 p. 82. 
 
 This was probably intended as a parody of a passage 
 in the Prometheus : 
 
 " Not all his tortures, all his arts, shall move me 
 To unlock my lips till this curs'd chain be loosed. 
 No — let him hurl his flaming lightnings, wing 
 His whitening snows, and with his thunders shake 
 The rocking earth, — they move not me to say 
 What force shall wrest the sceptre from his hand." 
 
 Potter's iEschylus. 
 
CONVIVIAL. 95 
 
 ** To-morrow, Piso, at the evening hour" p. 83. 
 
 1 have followed the interpretation assigned by M. 
 Chardon de la Rochette (Melanges de Critique, &c. 
 torn. i.»p. 196,) to this Epigram, which he has printed 
 from the Palatine manuscript. Philodemus is mentioned 
 by Cicero, with great honour, although as a friend of 
 PisOj in his oration against that illustrious nobleman. 
 In one passage, particularly, he is thought by M. de la 
 R. to refer to this very Epigram ; where he says, (speak- 
 ing of that connection, and of the courtly style of poetry 
 to which it gave rise), (C Rogatus, invitatus, coactus, ita 
 multa ad istum de isto scripsit, ut omnes libidines, omnia 
 stupra, omnia coenarum, conviviorumque genera, adul- 
 teria denique, delicatissimis versibus expresserit." 
 
 The word which I have translated " bower," means 
 literally a hut or cabin, — perhaps in this place a sum- 
 mer-house used for the purposes of conviviality. The 
 expression " erocpo$" refers to the association of members 
 in the same school of Philosophy. That of eixuSx is 
 understood to mean the twentieth day of the month 
 Gamelion, that being the month in which Epicurus was 
 born, and the twentieth day of every moon being set 
 apart by his own order for the celebration of his memory 
 and that of his favourite disciple, Metrodorus. 
 
 The courtly turn which the Commentator ascribes to 
 the two last verses of the Epigram appears to be per- 
 
96 . ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 fectly consonant with the text, and is strikingly verified 
 (as it were) by the passage of Cicero already cited. 
 
 The convivial fraternities of Greece seem to have par- 
 taken much of the nature of our social clubs. They 
 were instituted by the wisest and best of their philoso- 
 phers 5 and the observation of their rites enforced as a 
 moral duty of no inferior order. Athenseus preserves a 
 distich to this effect, of which the following is a free 
 
 version : 
 
 \ 
 
 Not long should true accordant friends 
 
 The social feast forego : 
 For memory at the board attends, 
 And to each faithful bosom lends 
 
 Her sympathetic glow. M. 
 
 " Great Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire'* p. 83. 
 
 The turn of thought in the Epigram which Prior has 
 thus happily paraphrased, evidently depends on the an- 
 cient custom of mingling water with wine for the sake 
 of coolness. Several allusions to the same custom may 
 be found in the Anthologies. It would be considered as 
 no great luxury by our wine-drinking countrymen; nor 
 will it be easily imagined how so simple an expedient 
 could have admitted (even in the hot regions of the 
 Levant, where its pleasantness is less - questionable) of 
 being reduced into a regular system with all the refine- 
 
CONVIVIAL. 97 
 
 ments of a most curious science. Dr. Barry, in his work 
 (i On the wines of the Ancients/' gives, however, a full 
 account of the process used in this operation. 
 
 In one of the epistles of Aristaenetus, a lover describes 
 to his friend the pleasures of a day passed at an elegant 
 retreat in the country with his mistress. As they wan- 
 dered together at evening in a shady valley, a small 
 stream of cold and transparent water, till then unob- 
 served by them, suddenly glided before their feet, and 
 interrupted their progress. Down this " infant current," 
 sailed a flotilla of drinking vessels, filled with the most de- 
 licious wines. The master of the garden had planned 
 this agreeable entertainment without the knowledge of 
 hit. guests, and managed the whole with the most skilful 
 accuracy : 
 
 " For, where they loaded the nectareous fleet, 
 The goblet glowM with too intense a heat ; 
 Cool'd, by degrees, in these convivial ships, 
 With nicest taste it met our thirsty lips." 
 
 Trans, of Arist. 1771. 
 
 A still further refinement of the luxury was, that the 
 very leaves which formed the sails of these little barks, 
 were of such medicinal virtue, that the lovers might 
 indulge, without fear or restraint, in the intoxicating 
 beverage. 
 
 H 
 
98 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 €C There lived informer days, as I am told" p. 83. 
 
 Every body knows the Epitaph of Sardanapalus ; " As 
 long as I beheld the light of the sun, I drank, I ate, I 
 loved ; and because I knew the shortness and uncertainty 
 of life, and how soon I should be obliged to leave those 
 good things to others, I never ceased to drink, and eat, 
 and love." 
 
 This fragment of a poem in iambic verse, by Phoenix 
 of Colophon, is merely an amplification of that celebrated 
 inscription. Ninus, as we all know, was an Assyrian 
 monarch, and founder of Niniveh, the capital city in 
 which Sardanapalus resided ; but why his name should 
 have been substituted for that of his luxurious and effe- 
 minate successor, I cannot take upon me to conjecture. 
 Whoever wishes to know more about the kings, and other 
 great personages of antiquity, most signalized for their 
 devotion to the arts of good living, may consult the 
 twelfth book of Athenseus, (in which this fragment is 
 preserved,) very greatly to his edification. 
 
 €e To thee, Anacreon, founder of the Lay" p. 85. 
 
 With regard to the " large and long potations" men- 
 tioned in this fragment, although Pliny allows the Greeks 
 a very exalted rank in the scale of convivial merit, he 
 
CONVIVIAL. 99 
 
 thinks the best among them would bear no comparison 
 to the Milanese knight who, in the presence of the 
 Emperor Tiberius, seizing 
 
 a bowl, a mighty bowl, 
 
 Large as his capacious soul," 
 
 drank it off at a draught to the health of the Emperor, 
 and thenceforward obtained the surname of " the three- 
 gallon knight," in remembrance of the actual contents 
 of the vessel which he drained. 
 The last couplet, 
 
 " Till their drain'd goblets dash'd upon the ground, 
 Through vaulted roofs and echoing domes resound, " 
 
 does not contain a sufficiently accurate description of 
 the sport alluded to, which was called the Cottabus, and 
 consisted in dashing, not the cup, but its contents, on 
 the floor, or into a vessel of water. The winner was he 
 who could make the loudest and smartest report, and he 
 was rewarded with a crown, or garland, or some other 
 token of victory ; sometimes with kisses bestowed by the 
 fair judges of the contest. Athenaeus has preserved many 
 particulars of this custom, and of its numerous varieties, 
 and modifications. It is said to have been imported from 
 Sicily into Greece, but the -name or age of its inventor 
 in the daughter-island is unhappily consigned to ever- 
 
 LOFC, 
 
100 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 lasting oblivion. The convivial contest generally took 
 place 
 
 " Just at that period of the feast 
 
 When purpled man is almost beast;" 
 
 and it certainly appears to have been a more innocent 
 and chearful amusement than those which are so well 
 described as forming the usual termination of a drinking 
 bout at the board of an Ulster chieftain 
 
 a When either friend his friend provokes, 
 By hiccuping affronts for jokes, 
 Or bottles at the head are sent, 
 Before affronts are given or meant." G. Col man. 
 
 To all such merry meetings, the introduction of the 
 classic Cottabus is most seriously recommended, in the 
 place of that more barbarous Cottabus, which is there 
 practised upon the heads of the guests, instead of the 
 floor or the table. M. Desforges Maillard describes the 
 return of a gentleman from one of these festive parties, 
 with an animation that would have done honour to the 
 Irish Knight. His design to go up stairs, and the. aim 
 which he takes at the staircase, which though unsuc- 
 cessful, is yet highly laudable for its boldness, deserve to 
 be read in English : 
 
CONVIVIAL. 101 
 
 A lover once of the Septembrian juice, 
 Had of the aforesaid made such copious use, 
 That ways and means to him were wanting 
 
 An easy staircase to ascend ; 
 When, after many steps now round, now slanting, 
 That led him further from his journey's end, 
 With an unlucky stair his foot engages. 
 
 He fell, and with a hiccough swore, 
 
 Proud as a patriarch of yore, 
 They built most scurvily in former ages. B. 
 
MORAL. 
 
M ORAL. 
 
 Posidippus, 16. ii. 49. 
 THE MISERIES OF LIFE, M. 
 
 What path of life can man desire to tread ? 
 
 Strife and unworthy deeds the senate yields, 
 
 At home black cares are seated on your bed, 
 
 And never-ending labour haunts the fields, 
 
 Terrors and tempests rule the boisterous main, 
 
 The wealthy traveller fears and dangers claim : 
 
 But crowds of ills the needy must sustain, 
 
 Hunger and toil, and insolence and shame. 
 
 If married, cares corrode the marriage state, 
 
 If single, joyous gloom is all thy fee ; 
 
 The father, plagues — the childless, sorrows wait ; 
 
 Folly's in youth, in age new infancy. 
 
 The only choice of wishes life can give, 
 
 Is ne'er to have been born, or then have ceased to live. 
 
10G MORAL. 
 
 Metrodorus, ii. 476. 
 THE CONVERSE OF THE PRECEDING. M. 
 
 Whatever path of life you choose to tread, 
 Praise and wise deeds the active senate yields ; 
 At home is rest, to crown your grateful bed, 
 Great nature leads her graces o'er the fields ; 
 The sea invites with golden views of gain, 
 And riches spread in foreign lands your fame ; 
 If poor, you unobserved can want sustain, 
 Content with penury unallied to shame : 
 If married, blest and honoured is your state, 
 If single, you are blest because you're free, 
 The father joys, no cares the childless wait, 
 In youth is strength, in grey hairs dignity. 
 Then false the lay that bids thee hate to live, 
 Since every form of life can pleasure give. 
 
 Palladas, 29. ii. 413. 
 ON THE SHORTNESS AND EVILS OF LIFE. B. 
 
 Dark are our fates— to-morrow's sun may peer 
 From the flush'd east upon our funeral bier ; 
 Then seize the joys that wine and music give, 
 Nor talk of death while yet 'tis giv'n to live ; 
 Soon shall each pulse be still, closed every eye, 
 One little hour remains or ere we die. 
 
MORAL. 107 
 
 Palladas, 128. ii. 434. 
 THE SAME. B. 
 
 Waking, we burst, at each return of morn, 
 From death's dull fetters and again are born ; 
 No longer ours the moments that have past, 
 To a new remnant of our lives we haste. 
 Call not the years thine own that made thee gray, 
 That left their wrinkles, and have fled away : 
 The past no more shall yield thee ill or good, 
 Gone to the silent times beyond the flood. 
 
 Palladas, 102. ii. 428. 
 THE SAME. M. 
 
 In tears I drew life's earliest breath, 
 In tears shall give it back to death ; 
 And all my past quick fleeting years 
 Have been one varied scene of tears. 
 Oh race, for ever doom'd to mourn, 
 To weakness, pain, and misery born ; 
 Then driven to unknown shades away, 
 To ashes burnt, resolved to clay ! 
 
108 MORAL. 
 
 Palladas, 129. ii. 434. 
 
 THE SAME. M. 
 
 O transitory joys of life ! ye mourn 
 
 Rightly those winged hours that ne'er return. 
 
 We, let us sit, or lie, or toil, or feast, 
 
 Time ever runs, a persecuting guest, 
 
 His hateful race against our wretched state, 
 
 And bears the unconquerable will of fate. 
 
 Uncertain, 444. iii. 245. 
 
 DEATH THE UNIVERSAL LOT. H. 
 
 Straight is our passage to the grave, 
 Whether from Meroe's burning wave, 
 
 Or Attic groves we roam. 
 Grieve not in distant lands to die ! 
 Our vessels seek, from every sky, 
 
 Death's universal home. 
 
 Uncertain, 443. iii. 245. 
 THE SAME.. B. 
 
 The bath, obsequious beauty's smile, 
 
 Wine, fragrance, music's heavenly breath, 
 
 Can but our hastening hours beguile, 
 And slope the path that leads to death. 
 
MORAL. 109 
 
 Lucian, 29. ii. 314. 
 PLEASURE AND PAIN. M. 
 
 In pleasure's bowers whole lives unheeded fly, 
 But to the wretch one night's eternity. 
 
 Archias, 31. ii. 100. 
 LIFE AND DEATH. B. 
 
 Thracians ! who howl around an infant's birth, 
 And give the funeral hour to songs and mirth ! 
 Well in your grief and gladness are express'd, 
 That life is labour, and that death is rest. 
 
 Agathias, 81. iii. 63. 
 ON DEATH. B. 
 
 Why fear ye death, the parent of repose, 
 Who numbs the sense of penury and pain ? 
 
 He comes but only once, nor ever throws, 
 Triumphant once, his painful shaft again — 
 
 But countless evils upon life intrude, 
 
 Recurring oft in sad vicissitude. 
 
110 MORAL. 
 
 Lucillius, 123. ii. 343. 
 THE FEAR OF DEATH. B. 
 
 I mourn not those who, banish'd from the light, 
 Sleep in the grave thro* death's eternal night, 
 But those whom death for ever near appals, 
 Who see the blow suspended ere it falls. 
 
 Lucilliusy 119. ii. 342. 
 FORTUNE. B. 
 
 Fortune reverses with a smile or frown, 
 Exalts the poor, and pulls the mighty down. 
 Tho* rich in golden ore thy rivers flow, 
 Her pow'r shall curb thy pride and haughty brow. 
 The wind that sweeps tempestuous thro* the sky 
 Howls o'er the bending broom and passes by ; 
 But the broad oak uproots, and planes that waved 
 Their royal branches and its fury braved. 
 
 Pailadas, 100. ii. 427. 
 ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE. M. 
 
 This life a Theatre we well may call, 
 Where every actor must perform with art 
 
 Or laugh it through, and make a farce of all, 
 Or learn to bear with grace his tragic part. 
 
MORAL. Ill 
 
 Antipater, 38. ii. 16. 
 CONJUGAL AFFECTION. B. 
 
 See yonder blushing vine-tree grow^ 
 And clasp a dry and withered plane, 
 
 And round its youthful tendril throw, - 
 A shelter from the wind and rain. 
 
 That sapless trunk in former time 
 Gave covert from the noontide blaze, 
 
 And taught the infant shoot to climb 
 That now the pious debt repays. 
 
 And thus, kind Powers, a partner give 
 
 To share in my prosperity ; 
 Hang on my strength while yet I live, 
 
 And do me honour when I die. 
 
 Leonidas. 
 
 HOME. B. 
 
 Cling to thy home ! If there the meanest shed 
 Yield thee a hearth and shelter for thy head, 
 And some poor plot, with vegetables stored, 
 Be all that heaven allots thee for thy board, 
 Unsavoury bread, and herbs that scattered grow, 
 Wild on the river-brink or mountain-brow, 
 Yet e'en this cheerless mansion shall provide 
 More heart's repose than all the world beside. 
 
112 MORAL. 
 
 Uncertain, hi. 146. 
 ULYSSES, ON HIS RETURN. M. 
 
 Hail Ithaca, my loved paternal soil ! 
 How, after years of travel, war, and toil, 
 How, after countless perils of the sea, 
 My heart, returning, fondly clings to thee ! 
 Where I shall once more hless my father's age, 
 And smooth the last steps of his pilgrimage, 
 Again embrace my wife, again enjoy 
 The sweet endearments of my only boy. 
 Now, from my soul I feel, how strong the chain 
 That binds the passions to ourjiative plain. 
 
 Philip, 68. ii. 230. 
 ON A VINE. B. 
 
 Who has that unripe cluster torn, 
 And thrown, with wrinkled lip, away, 
 
 And left the parent vine to mourn 
 Her fruit to barbarous hands a prey ? 
 
 May Bacchus on the spoiler turn 
 
 His fiercest rage, and bitterest smart, 
 
 His head with fever'd phrensy burn, 
 With agony distract his heart — 
 
MORAL. 113 
 
 For hence some transitory pleasure 
 The child of misery might have found, 
 
 Burst into song of wildest measure, 
 And quaffd oblivion of his wound. 
 
 Bianor, ii. 158. 
 FRATERNAL HATRED. M. 
 
 In Thebes the sons of CEdipus are laid ; 
 Rut not the tomb's all-desolating shade, 
 The deep forgetfulness of Pluto's gate, 
 Nor Acheron, can quench their deathless hate. 
 Ev'n hostile madness shakes the funeral pyres ; 
 Against each other blaze their pointed fires. 
 — Unhappy boys ! for whom high Jove ordains 
 Eternal hatred's never-sleeping pains ! 
 
 Callimachus, 60. i. 474. 
 THE DEATH OF CLEOMBROTUS. M. 
 
 Cleombrotus, upon the rampart's height, 
 Bad the bright sun farewell, jthen plunged to night. 
 The cares of life to him were yet unknown- 
 Glad were his hours — his sky unclouded shone — 
 But Plato's reason caught his youthful eye, 
 And fix'd his soul on immortality. 
 I 
 
114 MORAL. 
 
 Macedonius, 35. iii. 121. 
 REMEMBRANCE AND FORGETFULNESS, B. 
 
 All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness ! 
 
 Trace, Memory, trace whate'er is sweet or kind— 
 When friends forsake us, or misfortunes press, 
 
 Oblivion, rase the record from our mind. 
 
 Lucilliusy 122. ii. 343. 
 FALSE FRIENDSHIP. B. 
 
 Art thou my friend — forbear to do me guile, 
 Nor clothe a secret grudge in friendship's smile : 
 For traitorous friendship wounds th' unguarded breast 
 With surer aim than enmity profess'd ; 
 And more on shoals the sailor fears to wreck, 
 Than where the rocks hang frowning o'er his deck. 
 
 Onestus. 
 THE DIFFICULTY AND REWARD OF SCIENCE. B. 
 
 'Tis hard Parnassus to ascend, 
 
 But at the top there is a fount 
 Shall well reward you at the end 
 
 For all the pains you took to mount. 
 
MORAL. 115 
 
 Tis hard to reach the top of science, 
 But when arrived securely breathe ; 
 
 To pride and envy bid defiance, 
 
 Deaf to the storm that growls beneath. 
 
 Plato Philosoph. 30. i. 175. 
 THE ANSWER OF THE MUSES TO VENUS. M. 
 
 When Venus bade the Aonian maids obey, 
 
 Or her own son should vindicate her sway, 
 
 The virgins answer'd, " Threat your subjects thus ! 
 
 That puny warrior has no arms for us." 
 
 THE SAME ENLARGED. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 Thus to the Muses spoke the Cyprian dame : 
 
 " Adore my altars, and revere my name ; 
 
 My son shall else assume his potent darts : 
 
 Twang goes the bow ; my girls, have at your hearts !" 
 
 The Muses answer'd Venus : " We deride 
 The vagrant's malice, and his mother's. pride : 
 Send him to nymphs who sleep on Ida's shade, 
 To the loose dance, and wanton masquerade ; 
 
116 MORAL. 
 
 Our thoughts are settled, and intent our look 
 On the instructive verse, and moral book. 
 On female idleness his power relies, 
 But, when he finds us studying hard, he flies. 
 
 Parmenio, 9. ii. 202. 
 
 ON THE DEFEAT OF XERXES AT THERMOPYL^. 
 
 M. 
 
 Him who revers'd the laws great nature gave, 
 Sail'd o'er the continent and walk'd the wave, 
 Three hundred spears from Sparta's iron plain 
 Have stopp'd — Oh blush, ye mountains, and thou main ! 
 
 THE SAME MORE FREELY TRANSLATED. M. 
 
 m 
 
 When from his throne arose great Persia's lord, 
 And on devoted Greece his myriads pour'd, 
 O'er the broad sea his chariots roll'd to shore, 
 And his proud navy humbled Athos bore ; 
 But when the god of Sparta's iron coast 
 Sent his brave sons against the unnumber'd host, 
 Three hundred lances stemm'd the battle's tide — 
 Mountains and seas, your guilty blushes hide ! 
 
MORAL. 117 
 
 Palladasy 99. ii. 427. 
 SPARTAN VIRTUE. M. 
 
 From the dire conflict as a Spartan fled, 
 His mother cross'd his path, and awful said, 
 
 Pointing her sword against his dasta*rd-heart, 
 " If thou canst live, the mark of scorn and shame, 
 Thou liv'st, the murderer of thy mother's fame, 
 
 The base deserter from a soldier's part. 
 If by this hand thou diest, my name must be 
 Of mothers most unblest ; but Sparta's free." 
 
 Dioscorides, 33. i. 502. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 When Thrasybulus from the embattled field 
 Was breathless borne to Sparta on his shield, 
 His honour'd corse, disfigured still with gore 
 From seven wide wounds (but all received before), 
 Upon the pyre his hoary father laid, 
 And to the admiring crowd triumphant said, 
 " Let slaves lament — while I without a tear 
 " Lay mine and Sparta's son upon his bier." 
 
118 MORAL. 
 
 Tymneus, 4. i. 505. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Demetrius, when he basely fled the field, 
 A Spartan born, his Spartan mother kill'd ; 
 Then, stretching forth the bloody sword, she cried, 
 (Her teeth fierce gnashing with disdainful pride) 
 " Fly, cursed offspring, to the shades below, 
 Where proud Eurotas shall no longer flow 
 For timid hinds like thee— Fly, trembling slave, 
 Abandon'd wretch, to Pluto's darkest cave ! 
 This womb so vile a monster never bore : 
 Disown'd by Sparta, thou'rt my son no more." 
 
 Crinagoras, 25. ii. 147. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A SOLDIER IN THE ARMY 
 OF GERMANICUS. M» 
 
 Let Cynegirus' name, renown'd of yore, 
 And brave Othryades be heard no more ! 
 By Rhine's swoln wave Italian Arrius lay 
 Transfix'd with wounds, and sobb'd his soul away ; 
 But seeing Rome's proud eagle captive led, 
 He started from the ghastly heaps of dead, 
 The captor slew, the noble prize brought home, 
 And found death only not to be o'ercome. 
 
MORAL. 119 
 
 Antipater, 50. ii. 20. 
 THE NEREIDS OF CORINTH LAMENT ITS DE- 
 STRUCTION. B. 
 
 Where has thy grandeur, Corinth, shrunk from sight, 
 Thy ancient treasures, and thy rampart's height, 
 Thy godlike fanes and palaces — Oh where 
 Thy mighty myriads and majestic fair ? 
 Relentless war has pour'd around the wall, 
 And hardly spared the traces of thy fall. 
 We nymphs of Ocean deathless yet remain, 
 And sad and silent sorrow near thy plain. 
 
 Leonidas Alexandr. 38. i. 197. 
 
 THE DYING SOLDIER S ADDRESS TO HIS 
 FRIENDS. M 
 
 That soul, which vanquish'd war could never win, 
 Now yields reluctant to a foe within. 
 Oh seize the sword ! grant me a soldier's due, 
 And thus disease shall own my triumph too. 
 
120 MORAL. 
 
 By Ariphron of Sicyon, 23 ScoU i. 159. 
 ADDRESS TO HEALTH. B. 
 
 Health, brightest visitant from heaven, 
 
 Grant me with thee to rest ! 
 For the short term by nature given, 
 
 Be thou my constant guest ! 
 For all the pride that wealth bestows, 
 The pleasure that from children flows, 
 Whate'er we court in regal state 
 That makes men covet to be great ; 
 
 Whatever sweet we hope to find 
 
 In love's delightful snare, 
 Whatever good by heaven assign'd, 
 
 Whatever pause from care, 
 All flourish at thy smile divine ; 
 The spring of loveliness is thine, 
 And every joy that warms our hearts 
 With thee approaches and departs. 
 
MORAL. 121 
 
 Simonides, 11. i. 122. Scot. 
 THE COMPARISON. M. 
 
 The first of human joys is health, 
 Then beauty, from the gods above ; 
 The third is unpolluted wealth ; 
 The fourth^ youth's fond delights to prove 
 With those we love. 
 
 Anaxandrides. (from Athenceus, Lib. XV.) 
 PARODY OF THE PRECEDING. M. 
 
 Well says the father of the song, 
 " The first of human joys is health ;" 
 But, when he thus pursues the strain, 
 " Then beauty, and the next is wealth/' 
 — Indeed, I think him very wrong, 
 And bid him tune his harp again : 
 For, in these days of want and evil, 
 Unportion'd beauty is — the Devil. 
 
122 MORAL. 
 
 Timocreon of Rhodes, i. 148. Scol. 
 
 RICHES. H. 
 
 Blinded Plutus ! didst thou dwell 
 Nor in land, nor fathom'd sea, 
 But only in the depth of hell, 
 God of riches ! safe from thee, 
 Man himself might happy be. 
 
 Bacchi/lides,4:.i. 149. Scol. 
 TRUTH. M. 
 
 As gold the Lydian touch-stone tries, 
 So man, the virtuous, valiant, wise, 
 Must to all-powerful Truth submit 
 His virtue, valour, and his wit. 
 
 CallistratuSyScol. T.i. 155. 
 ODE TO THE ATHENIAN PATRIOTS. D. 
 
 I'll wreathe my sword in myrtle bough, 
 The sword that laid the tyrant low, 
 Whe^ patriots burning to be free 
 To Athens gave equality. 
 
MORAL. 123 
 
 Harmodius, hail ! tho' reft of breath, 
 Thou ne'er shalt feel the stroke of death \ 
 The heroes' happy isles shall be 
 The bright abode allotted thee. 
 
 I'll wreathe the sword in myrtle bough, 
 The sword that laid Hipparchus low, 
 When at Minerva's adverse fane 
 He knelt, and never rose again. 
 
 While Freedom's name is understood, 
 You shall delight the wise and good, 
 You dared to set your country free, 
 And gave her laws equality. 
 
 ANOTHER TRANSLATION OF THE SAME, D, 
 
 In myrtle my sword will I wreath, 
 
 Like our patriots, the noble and brave, 
 
 Who devoted the tyrant to death, 
 And to Athens equality gave ! 
 
 Loved Harmodius, thou never shalt die ! 
 
 The poets exultingly tell 
 That thine is the fulness of joy, 
 
 Where Achilles and Biomed dwell. 
 
 In myrtle my sword will I wreath, 
 
 Like our patriots, the noble and brave, 
 
 Who devoted Hipparchus to death, 
 And buried his pride in the grave. 
 
124 MORAL. 
 
 At the altar the tyrant they seized, 
 While Minerva he vainly implored, 
 
 And the goddess of wisdom was pleased 
 With the victim of liberty's sword. 
 
 May your bliss be immortal on high, 
 Among men as your glory shall be 
 
 Ye doom'd the usurper to die, 
 
 And bade our dear country be free ! 
 
 By Hybrids of Crete ', 22 Scol. i. 159. 
 THE WARRIOR. M. 
 
 My riches are the arms I wield, 
 The mighty spear, the sword, the shield 
 Fenced with tough hides, to prove a tower 
 Of strength in battle's dangerous hour. 
 With this I plough the furrow 'd soil, 
 With this I share the reaper's toil, 
 With this I press the generous juice 
 Which my rich sunny vines produce ; 
 With these, of rule and high command 
 I bear the mandate in my hand ; 
 For while the slave and coward fear 
 To wield the buckler, sword, and spear, 
 They bend the supplicating knee, 
 And own my just supremacy. 
 
MORAL. 125 
 
 Sappho, 11. i. 57. 
 TO AN ILLITERATE WOMAN. B. 
 
 Unknown, unheeded, shalt thou die, 
 
 And no memorial shall proclaim, 
 That once beneath the upper sky 
 
 Thou hadst a being and a name. 
 
 For never to the Muses' bowers 
 
 Didst thou with glowing heart repair, 
 
 Nor ever intertwine the flowers 
 
 That fancy strews unnumber'd there. 
 
 Doom'd. o'er that dreary realm, alone, 
 Shunn'd by the gentler shades, to go, . 
 
 Nor friend shall soothe, nor parent own 
 The child of sloth, the Muse's foe. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 " Wliatpath of life can man desire to tread T y p. 105. 
 u Whatever path of life you choose to tread" p. 106. 
 
 This " pair of pictures" is well known, not only to 
 the school-boy students of Farnaby, but to most classes 
 of English readers, having been already rendered with 
 sufficient fidelity into our language, and inserted by Dr. 
 Knox in the i( Elegant Extracts." The new translation 
 which here appears may, therefore, be judged superfluous. 
 But, besides that the originals occupy so prominent a 
 situation in that class of Greek Epigrams to which I have, 
 in conformity with old usage, rather than in strict pro- 
 priety, affixed the title of ec Moral," they are sufficiently 
 curious, as exhibiting the train of thought which existed 
 in the minds of the writers, to deserve a translation, line 
 for line, and almost word for word, as I have here given 
 it. The gloomy view of things taken by Posidippus, is 
 much the most consonant to the usual temper of Greek 
 
128 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 poetry, and was unquestionably the prototype, of which 
 the other is only a parody. But though Ausonius has 
 thought it worthy of an elaborate imitation, the philosophy 
 of the Roman poets was generally of a more chearful 
 stamp. Martial breathes much more of the spirit of 
 Metrodorus than of his rival. 
 
 TO JULIUS MARTIALIS. V. 21. 
 " Be agenda vita beata." 
 
 If, my dear Martial, fate allow'd 
 
 A safe retreat from folly's crowd ; 
 
 If, far from care and busy strife, 
 
 Together we could lead our life, 
 
 True happiness we would not rate 
 
 By frequent visits to the great ; 
 
 Nor hear the wrangling lawyer bawl, 
 
 Nor range proud statues round our hall. 
 
 Our chairs should take us to the play ; 
 
 The walks, the baths, should wile the day ; 
 
 The field, the porch, the tennis-court, 
 
 And study interchanged with sport. 
 
 But how unlike our real fate 
 
 To this imaginary state ! 
 
 We live not for ourselves — Alas ! 
 
 Youth's joyous suns neglected pass, 
 
MORAL. 129 
 
 Change into night, and never more 
 
 Return to bless us as before. 
 
 Oh ! who that held enjoyment's power 
 
 Would waste in pain one precious hour ? H. 
 
 TO THE SAME. X. 47. 
 
 " De iis quee necessaria sunt ad vitam beatam" 
 
 What makes the happiest life we know, 
 A few plain rules, my friend, will show. 
 A good estate, not earn'd with toil, 
 Rut left by will or given by fate 3 
 A land of no ungrateful soil ; 
 A constant fire within your grate \ 
 No law ; few cares ; a quiet mind ; 
 Strength unimpair'd ; a Healthful frame ; 
 Wisdom with innocence combined ; 
 Friends equal both in years and fame ; 
 Your living easy ; and your board 
 With food, but not with luxury, stored ; 
 A bed, though chaste, not solitary : 
 A sleep, to shorten night's dull reign : 
 Wish nothing that you have to vary ; 
 Think all enjoyments that remain ; 
 And, for the inevitable hour, 
 Nor hope it nigh, nor dread its power \" M. 
 K 
 
130 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Waking, ive burst, at each return of morn." p. 107. 
 
 Seneca reasons otherwise, and much more philosophi- 
 cally, when he says that " Life is divided into three por- 
 tions, that which is 3 that which has been, and that 
 which is to come ; of these portions, that which we now 
 fulfil, is short, that which we are aoout to attain, is 
 doubtful ; that which we have already accomplished, is 
 certain. It is over this last division of our existence that 
 fortune has lost her power, it is this which is put beyond 
 the reach of another's commands : it is the sacred and 
 sanctified part of time, out of the jurisdiction of chance 
 and change. It can neither be disturbed nor taken away : 
 our possession of it is perpetual, not to be shaken by fear 
 or doubt.' , 
 
 i( In tears I drew life's earliest breath." p. 107. 
 
 Sadness is as far removed from virtue, as gravity from 
 sense. There is a pretty triolet, which says all that can 
 be advanced on this subject : 
 
 sf Je ne prends pas pour la vertu 
 Les noirs acces de la tristesse, 
 D'un loup-garou revetu 
 Des habits de la sagesse. 
 
MORAL. 131 
 
 Plus l^gere que le vent, 
 Elle fuit d'un, faux savant 
 La sombre melancolie ; 
 Et se sauve bien souvent 
 Dans Ies bras de la Folie." 
 
 It is not virtue sure to give 
 Our day to sorrow and to spleen, 
 From human eye withdrawn to live, 
 And aping Wisdom's borrow'd mien : 
 Light as the wind that cuts the skies 
 She hates the sombre melancholy 
 Of dreamers falsely termed the wise ; 
 And oft, to save herself, she flies 
 For shelter to the arms of Folly. B. 
 
 u O transitory joys of life ! ye mourn" p. 108. 
 
 From reflection on the lapse of time, the transition is 
 natural, and not unprofitable, to reflection on the waste 
 of it. It would, however, be little else than time wasted, 
 to moralize in this place on so familiar a subject. 
 Let the reader accept an example instead of a sermon. 
 It is from Boileau. 
 
 " U Amateur d Horloges" 
 Lubin encircled yet appears 
 With quadrants, pendulums, and dials ; 
 Engaged in idle whims and trials, 
 For more than five and thirty years. 
 
132 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " But has he not sufficient science 
 To set his neighbours at defiance ? 
 
 He sure has gain'd a decent stock." 
 He has — for not a man in France, sir, 
 With more precision can make answer 
 
 To—" Pray, sir, what's o'clock. ?" B. 
 
 Ci In pleasure's bowers whole lives unheeded fly" p. 109. 
 
 The Countess de Murat is the author of two charming 
 stanzas on the short duration of pleasure. 
 
 " Sur le Plaisir. 
 
 Faut-il etre tant volage ? 
 
 Ai-je dit au doux Plaisir, 
 
 Tu nous fuis — Las ! quel dommage 
 
 Des qu'on a cru te saisir. 
 
 Ce Plaisir si regrettable 
 Me repond, Rends graces aux Dieux, 
 S'il m'avoient fait plus durable, 
 lis m'auroient garde pour eux." 
 
 Ah why so fickle ? stay thy pace ! 
 To Pleasure with a sigh I said. 
 You smile ; but ere we can embrace, 
 You wave your pinions and are fled." 
 
MORAL. 133 
 
 Be grateful to the powers of heaven 
 Who made me so, the nymph replies, 
 They ne'er had else permission given 
 To stray one moment from the skies. B. 
 
 " Thracians, who howl around an infant's birth? 
 
 p. 109. 
 
 Of this barbarous custom, Stobseus has preserved some 
 notice from the last book of Nicolaus " On the manners 
 of various nations." He says, of a people whom he calls 
 the Causiani, that " they lament over those that are born, 
 and rejoice for the dead." 
 
 " It is worthy the observing/' says the great Lord 
 Bacon, " that there is no passion in the mind of man so 
 weak, but it mates and masters the fear of death ; and 
 therefore death is no such terrible enemy, when a man 
 hath so many attendants about him, that can win the 
 combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death ; love 
 slights it ; honour aspireth unto it ; grief flieth to it ; 
 fear pre-occupieth it ; nay, Seneca adds, niceness and 
 satiety — A man would die, though he were neither 
 valiant or miserable, only upon a weariness to do the 
 same thing so oft over and over." 
 
 This is philosophy's most animated and ennobling 
 strain ; and, wherever the voice of philosophy can reach, 
 will produce its •fleet. It was on reading that beautiful 
 
134 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 book in which it occurs, that the following stanzas were 
 composed : 
 
 Thanks from my soul, illustrious Sage ! 
 
 For when affliction wrung my soul, 
 The potent med'cine of thy page 
 
 Could cure my heart, and make it whole. 
 
 In poverty whene'er I sigh'd 3 
 
 Thy wisdom, richer far than gold, 
 
 My drooping spirit arm'd with pride, 
 And made me in despondence bold. 
 
 Or when I languish'd weak and faint, 
 
 The victim of a feverish pain, 
 It hush'd to silence my complaint, 
 
 And rear'd me up to health again. 
 
 Or if revenge and anger rose 
 
 To kindle high a fitful flame, 
 That wisdom brought me back repose, 
 
 And quench'd the guilty fire by shame. 
 
 Thanks, glorious sage ! and might I find 
 The soul's physician yet in thee, 
 
 Of power to calm the troubled mind, 
 And set the captive reason free. 
 
MORAL. 135 
 
 But now, nor sickness, anger, hate, 
 
 Nor penury unnerves my soul ; 
 A suffering bends me to its weight 
 
 Beyond thy empire to control. 
 
 Or tell me, venerable Sage, 
 
 In all thy wisdom's pride declare, 
 What charm more potent can assuage 
 
 The wounds of love and of despair I" B* 
 
 " Why fear ye death, the parent of repose." p. 109. 
 
 " Shall I die ?" says Seneca, " Say rather, I shall 
 cease to be subje,ct to sickness ; I shall cease to be sub- 
 ject to bondage \ I shall cease to be subject to death." 
 And so " my father," in Tristram Shandy, whose reflec- 
 tions on the death of his son are a store-house of all that 
 philosophy has ever said or sung on this subject. 
 
 " Fortus.setern& placidus quiete." 
 
 u Your fond preferments are but children's toys, 
 And as a shadow all your pleasures passe : 
 As yeares increase, so waining are your joys ; 
 Your bliss is brittle like a broken glasse. 
 Death is the salve that ceaseth all annoy ; 
 Death is the port by which we saile to joy." 
 
 England's Helicon, 
 
136 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Fairy Melusine, after the discovery made by the 
 fatal curiosity of her husband, which condemns her to 
 forego the sweet society of her children, and of the 
 friends whom she had loved in " her days of flesh," and 
 to reassume the properties of her originally immortal 
 nature, laments, as the greatest of the afflictions she is 
 about to sustain, the abandonment of the prospect of 
 death. 
 
 " / mourn not those, ivho, banish' d from the light.* 9 
 
 p. 110. 
 " Bis moritur qui mortem timet." 
 
 This is the same with that noble and celebrated senti- 
 ment which Shakspeare has put into the mouth of Julius 
 Caesar : 
 
 " Cowards die many times before their death : 
 The valiant never taste of death but once. 
 Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
 It seems to me most strange that man should fear, 
 Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
 Will come when it will come." 
 
 " Ye shall surely not die," said the serpent to the 
 mother of mankind, and he was believed. Our first pa- 
 rents had not yet seen death : not a beast had lain life- 
 less in the field, not a bird had fallen from a bough, to 
 startle them at this new intruder. Innocence preserved 
 
MORAL. 137 
 
 their health unchanged \ innocence made them immortal. 
 Conscious of no weakness, of no decay, it is not so sur- 
 prising that they were deceived by the tempter's promise. 
 But for us, their unhappy children, whose eyes are con- 
 tinually struck with the image of mortality — for us, who 
 witness it each day in others, and by our own infirmities 
 experience it in ourselves, — for us to listen, like our first 
 mother, to the flattering promise, " Ye shall surely not 
 die," were incredible, were it not too common. By a 
 thousand illusions, by a thousand false hopes that mis- 
 lead, we strive to banish the thought of a dying hour. — 
 When in sickness, we are not to die of this malady ; when 
 in youth, it is unlikely ; when in age, others are older 
 than ourselves. Thus every conjuncture affords its 
 consolation. 
 
 To these reflections, I may possibly be excused for 
 adding a few verses, as they fall from a character of my 
 own creating. 
 
 THE DESIRE TO LIVE. 
 
 Oh, avarice of life ! oh, mean desire 
 To keep alive a half- extinguished fire ! 
 Numbering the seasons gone like treasured ore, 
 And hoping future to increase the store ; 
 That with its increase brings us for our gain 
 Hours of regretted joy, and years of pain. 
 For this will coward chieftains shun the grave 
 On tented field, or on the battle-wave 
 
138 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Before the city's trench resign their trust, 
 And trail their country's banner in the dust. 
 For this the wretch with pining sickness pale 
 Seeks the warm upland, or soft-bosom'd vale ; 
 There lingering, hopeless to disarm its power, 
 And grudging yet to spare one little hour, 
 Stretch'd on his bed, through pangs, regrets, and fears, 
 Cling to the growing weight of added years. B. 
 Four Slaves of Cythera, Canto 8. 
 
 u See yonder blushing vine-tree grow" p. 111. 
 
 In every age of civilized society, however dissolute the 
 manners, and depraved the taste of the people, there 
 have always been poets who have sung, and philosophers 
 who have inculcated, the laws of wedded love, of pure 
 and undivided affection. 
 
 " How sweet to the soul of man," says Hierocles, (< is 
 the society of a beloved wife ! When wearied and broken 
 down by the labours of the day, her endearments soothe, 
 her tender cares restore him. The solicitudes and anxi- 
 eties, and heavier misfortunes of life, are hardly to be 
 borne by him who has the weight of business and do- 
 mestic vexations at the same time to contend with. But 
 how much lighter do they seem, when, after his necessary 
 avocations are over, he returns to his home and finds there 
 a partner of all his griefs and troubles, who takes, for his 
 
MORAL. 139 
 
 sake, her share of domestic labour upon her, and soothes 
 the anguish of his soul by her comfort and participation. 
 By the immortal gods ! a wife is not, as she is falsely 
 represented by some, a burthen or a sorrow to man. No, 
 she shares his burthens and alleviates his sorrows. For 
 there is no toil nor difficulty so heavy or insupportable in 
 life, but it may be surmounted by the mutual efforts and 
 the affectionate concord of that holy partnership." 
 
 Homer in both his poems has conveyed to us a striking 
 and natural contrast of characters ; even an Andromache 
 and a Penelope would not be so admirable in themselves 
 if they were not placed in opposition to a Helen and a 
 Calypso. In two lines pronounced by the wife of Hector, 
 he has laid a most perfect and glowing picture before 
 our eyes : 
 
 'E*T0p, CtTUp, (Til [101 e<T(n VOLTYjp KOLI TTOTViU ^T^p 
 
 HSs xct<riyvYiTO$ } <rv fa poi §tx\spo$ TretpuxoiTris. 
 
 Euripides himself, as Antipater observes, when warmed 
 by this holy fire, could lay aside his hatred to woman, 
 and sing her praises with all the ardour and tenderness 
 of a poet. His " Alcestis," which has for its foundation 
 the purest and most sublime instance of conjugal affection 
 to be met with in all antiquity, unless we except, 
 perhaps, the beautiful tale of Psetus and Arria, 
 contains many striking passages of the nature I have 
 been describing. The Chorus, in their several addresses 
 to the heroine and her afflicted husband, abounds in 
 
UO ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 instances of the most delicate and natural poetry. I have 
 selected particular passages and thrown them together by 
 a free translation, in order to give a general impression of 
 the nature of the original, and my readers will find it in 
 that division of the work which contains extracts from 
 the Grecian drama. 
 
 " Cling to thy home: if there the meanest shed. 9 * p. 1 1 1 . 
 
 The sentiment of these verses is rather freely trans- 
 posed than literally rendered from the original. It has 
 also been adopted in my tale of " Sir Everard." 
 
 This, and the succeeding Epigram, in which Palladas 
 puts into the mouth of Ulysses the feeling address which 
 he may be supposed to have made to his native island on 
 returning from his long wanderings, are sufficient to 
 prove that the fondness for their homes, that germ of all 
 patriotic virtue, which characterized the earliest of the 
 Greeks, did not altogether decay with their fame or their 
 liberties. 
 
 No state of society is so corrupt and degenerate as to 
 lose the traces of early attachment, even to inanimate 
 objects : 
 
 e€ Wild Murcia's vales and dear romantic bowers ; 
 The river on, whose banks, a child, I play'd; 
 My castle's lofty halls and frowning towers ; 
 
 Each much regretted wood, and well-known glade ; 
 Dreams of the land in which my wishes centre !" &c. 
 
MORAL, 141 
 
 How exquisitely does Catullus describe the feelings of 
 one, who after many wanderings and vicissitudes of for- 
 tune, returns to his home, and to the scenes which were 
 beloved in his infancy. 
 
 " O quid solutis est beatius curis !" 
 
 What blessedness hath heaven on man bestow'd, 
 Pure as the hour when care and sorrow cease, 
 When the freed soul shakes off her weary load, 
 And faint and tired, strangers to home and peace, 
 With lingering toil in foreign land opprest, 
 At length we sink again, in sweetest rest, 
 On our accustom'd bed, so oft in vain 
 Remember'd, and so oft in vain desired, 
 When, by our native air again inspired, 
 A soft oblivion steals o'er all our pain ! M. 
 
 The f( solito membra levare toro," the u accustom'd 
 bed/' is also an expression of Tibullus ; but the volup- 
 tuous and pathetic Ovid excels both in tenderness, for he 
 writes under the influence of deprivation and melancholy: 
 tc Non haec in nostris, ut quondam, scribimus hortis." 
 I write not now as in those happier hours, 
 When pleasure wooed me in her Latian bowers, 
 When night descending shrowded o'er my head, 
 Laid in sweet sleep on my accustom'd bed. 
 
 And again, a little lower : 
 " Tarn procul, ignotis igitur moriemur in oris ?" 
 
142 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Forgotten and alone your bard shall die 
 On distant shores, beneath a foreign sky ; 
 And his last wretched hour of parting breath 
 Be made more fearful by his place of death. 
 On the accustom'd bed he shall not lay 
 His languid limbs, and gently die away, 
 While weeping friends attend his life's sad close, 
 And smooth the pillow for his long repose ! M. 
 
 Among the Italian poets, Flaminius has described the 
 same feeling, in a little poem addressed to his father, of 
 which, though it contains too many affected prettinesses 
 of expression, the opening at least is very tender and 
 pleasing. 
 
 " Venuste agelle, tuque pulcra villula. ,, 
 
 Dear fields, and thou delightful seat, 
 My honoured parent's loved retreat, 
 Again your haunts shall I explore, 
 Again my feet shall wander o'er 
 The winding paths his taste has plann'd, 
 And forests planted by his hand ! 
 Again, upon the well-known bed, 
 My native air shall fan my head, 
 And gentlest sleep bring imaged joys 
 That will not vanish when I rise. 
 Bright streams of Albula rejoice, 
 And murmur with a clearer voice f 
 
MORAL. 143 
 
 His much loved son in joy returns, 
 
 To bless the tribute of your urns, 
 
 And from his oaten pipe to pour 
 
 Soft strains along your mazy shore ! M. 
 
 I subjoin my friend Mr. Hodgson's translation of 
 Martial's well-known Epigram on the other subject to 
 which I have alluded : 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF P^YTUS AND ARKIA. 
 
 When from her breast fair Arria drew the sword, 
 And held it, reeking, to her much-loved lord 5 
 f c Paetus," she cried, " no pain oppresses me y 
 My wound is nothing ; but I feel for thee/' 
 
 Our old dramatic poet, Chapman, has a passage so 
 pure in sentiment and so splendid in language, on the 
 same enchanting theme, that I am sure of being par- 
 doned for transcribing it here. 
 
 " I tell thee, love is nature's second sun, 
 Causing a spring of virtues where he shines. 
 And as, without the sun, the world's great eye, 
 All colours, beauties, both of art and nature, 
 Are given in vain to men, so without love, 
 All beauties bred in women are in vain, 
 All virtues born in men lie buried : 
 For love informs them as the sun doth colours. 
 
144 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 And as the sun, reflecting his warm beams 
 Against the earth, begets all fruits and flowers, 
 So love, fair shining in the inward man, 
 Brings forth in him the honourable fruits 
 Of valour, wit, virtue, and haughty thoughts, 
 Brave resolution, and divine discourse : 
 O 'tis the paradise, the heaven of earth ! 
 And didst thou know the comfort of two hearts 
 In one delicious harmony united, 
 As to joy one joy, and think both one thought, 
 Live both one life, and therein double life ; . 
 To see their souls meet at an interview 
 In their bright eyes, and parley in their lips, 
 Their language kisses ; and each circumstance 
 Of all love's most unmatched ceremonies, 
 Thou wouldst abhor thy tongue for blasphemy. 
 O, who can comprehend how sweet love tastes, 
 But he that hath been present at his feasts !" 
 
 May I be permitted to subjoin to these many testi- 
 monies in favour of chaste and wedded love, another 
 tribute taken from my own pen ? 
 
 u Sir Everard's remembrance, when in exile, of his 
 wife Geraldine. 
 
 Oh, she was fair, as holy angels fair, 
 Beyond what lovers picture and despair ! 
 
MORAL. 145 
 
 Temper'd so sweet, so form'd for man's content, 
 Of sober sadness, and light merriment; 
 So framed for all that generous love rewards, 
 For sweet responses, and for soft regards, 
 That I had hung delighted on her smile, 
 And found a heaven within this desert isle, 
 Bless'd my rude toil, and braved this bitter cold, 
 And hugg'd the sorrow that her voice consoled : 
 So had she charm'd the labour of the day, 
 Soften'd my grief, or lookM it quite away. B. 
 
 " Who has that unripe cluster torn" p. 112. 
 
 Lycurgus, King of Thrace, had offered indignities to 
 Bacchus, and was afflicted by him with phrensy. In the 
 Greek, the master of the vineyard calls on the God to 
 punish those who had torn and bruised his unripe fruit 
 in the same manner as he had redressed his wrongs on 
 Lycurgus : in translating it, the aim has been to leave 
 out as far as possible all allusion to ancient fables ; but 
 the turn of idea remains unaltered. 
 
 " In Thebes the sons of CEdipus are laid." p. 113. 
 
 This thought has been rendered into Latin with great 
 spirit by Ausonius. Ovid, also, has alluded to the pre- 
 ternatural circumstance which it celebrates : 
 
 L 
 
146 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Et nova fraterno veniet concordia fumo 
 Quern vetus accens& separet ira pyr&." 
 
 The French poet, Charpentier, in his imitation of it, 
 seems to have had the fear of M. de Racan's Soupe a la 
 Grecque before his eyes ; for he has thought it necessary, 
 like a true Frenchman, to relieve the insipidity of his 
 original by concluding it with a splendid instance of 
 paronomasia : 
 
 (( Des deux freres Thebains sur le bucher posez 
 Les corps servent de proye a des feux divisez, 
 Et la flamme de Tun, de Tautre se retire ; 
 Jusques la leur discorde a porte* son flambeau — 
 Heureux s'ils avoient s§u partager leur empire, 
 Comme la haine a sgu partager leur tombeau." 
 
 A pun in sentiment is so much worse than a pun 
 upon words, as it is less calculated to produce the only 
 legitimate end of punning, a laugh. 
 
 How melancholy is the augury of Eve from the first 
 bloodshed of a brother by the hand of a brother : 
 
 Song of Eve, by Metastasio. 
 
 " Qual diverra quel flume 
 Nel lungo suo cam mi no, 
 Se al fonte ancor vicino 
 E turbido cosl ? 
 
MORAL. 147 
 
 Miseri figli miei, 
 
 Ah ! cbe si vede espresso 
 In quel, che siete adesso 
 Quel che sarete un di ! " 
 
 What will, far hence, that river be, 
 Enlarged and widening in its course, 
 That flows so troubled near its source, 
 I weep in bitter thought to see. 
 
 Unhappy children, in the hate 
 That agitates a brother's breast, 
 Too well, too clearly is express'd 
 The colour of your future fate. B. 
 
 The strongest description of unmixed and rancorous 
 hatred to be found in our language is, perhaps, in the 
 dreadfully natural " De Montfort " of Miss Baillie. The 
 Greek tragedians, and, after them, Racine, have painted 
 the horrible passion in no less glowing colours : the 
 object of vanity, at least, will be answered, by the fol- 
 lowing attempt to render into English verse some passages 
 from a most striking scene in the " Fieres Ennemis" of 
 the French poet. Polynices, being encamped before 
 Thebes with his auxiliary forces, has sent to demand an 
 interview with his brother, previous to the commence- 
 ment of hostilities. To save appearances, the demand is 
 acceded to by Eteocles, who, in his subsequent conver- 
 
148 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 sation with Creon, gives vent to the feelings of horrour 
 and repugnance which the proposal has excited. 
 
 Yes, Creon, yes, the appointed hour draws near ; 
 My brother in our presence must appear, 
 Urge his demands, his bold advance explain ; 
 But mark me well, our meeting will be vain. 
 I know that soul in arrogance elate, 
 Full well I know its undiminish'd hate, 
 And think no time can ever check its power, 
 While mine shall last to life's extremest hour. 
 
 Creon, 
 
 Yet, should he yield an undivided throne, 
 That might abate thy wrath, his pride atone. 
 
 Eteoclcs. 
 
 I know not that my wrath can ere abate ; 
 
 'Tis not his pride $ himself — himself I hate. 
 
 The rooted hate we to each other bear 
 
 Is not the hot displeasure of a year ; 
 
 It was born with us, its unnatural rage 
 
 Grew with our growth, and ripen'd with our age : 
 
 From childhood's tenderest years the discord ran ; 
 
 Nay more, we hated ere ourselves began. 
 
 (Oh fruit accurst of an incestuous bed !) 
 
 Ev'n in the common womb where we were bred 
 
MORAL. 149 
 
 Instinctive wars anticipated life : 
 Our wretched mother felt, and shudder'd at the strife. 
 Thou canst relate what feuds our cradle bore, 
 Feuds that shall last, when life itself is o'er. 
 What can we say, but righteous Heaven decreed 
 Such vengeance for our parents' impious deed ; 
 That black unnatural love is cursed by fate, 
 With its sure offspring, black unnatural hate ! 
 
 Now, tho' I dare attend his coming, oh 
 
 Believe not that my hatred burns more slow ! 
 
 I loath, I sicken, as the foe draws nigh \ 
 
 It will, it must, be glaring to his eye. 
 
 I would not he should yield the empire mine, 
 
 No — I must have him fly, and not resign. 
 
 I cannot hate the man by halves ; much less 
 
 His rage offends me, than his gentleness. 
 
 I wish (that my abhorrence might be free) 
 
 An equal fury in mine enemy. 
 
 My heart cannot betray itself \ I sue 
 
 For hate from him, that I may hate him too. 
 
 But you will see — his rage is still the same, 
 
 His heart unalter'd, unabased his aim ; 
 
 That he detests me still, still hopes to reign ; 
 
 That we may force him, but can never gain. M. 
 
150 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 u Cleombrotus, upon the rampart's height." p. 113. 
 
 That this Epigram is ascribed to its right author we 
 have the opinion of Cicero, who says in his Tusculan 
 Disputations, i. 34, " Callimachi quidem Epigramma in 
 Ambraciotam Cleombrotum est, quern ait, cum ei nihil 
 accidisset adversi, e muro se in mare abjecisse, lecto 
 Platonis Libro." The learning of modern commentators 
 has been employed to prove that the wall which surrounded 
 the port of Ambracia, and not the wall of Ambracia 
 itself, was the scene of this exploit, since the city was 
 eighty stadia distant from the sea. But as the assigning 
 a watery grave to this enthusiast appears to be an addition 
 of Cicero's not warranted by any expression in the ori- 
 ginal, which only says, 
 
 we may safely place this among the numerous in- 
 stances of useless labour, to prove what in its own nature 
 is absolutely incapable of proof. Cleombrotus may full 
 as well have been dashed to pieces on dry ground, as 
 drowned at sea ; and though an Ambraciot by birth, his 
 death may have happened just as probably any where 
 else as at the place of his nativity. 
 
 Among many of the ancients, suicide was less consi- 
 dered as a crime than as a mark of foolish rashness or 
 weak incapacity of suffering $ and, perhaps it is more 
 
 
MORAL. 151 
 
 rational, as it seems more charitable, to treat it in this 
 light, than to rank it, with some severer religionists, 
 among the inexpiable and damning sins of weak morta- 
 lity. The impressions of shame and contempt are pro- 
 bably the most forcible motives of argument to deter 
 men from its perpetration ; if, indeed, any motives can 
 be wanting to assist the violent repugnance of nature. 
 Many eloquent discourses have, doubtless, been framed 
 upon the supposition of the total destruction of soul as 
 well as body which has been inculcated as its fatal and 
 irremediable consequence : 
 
 cs Will you turn your body, 
 (Which is the goodly palace of the soul,) 
 To the soul's slaughter-house ? " 
 
 And Virgil seems to entertain a notion nearly allied to 
 this, when he assigns a distinct region of suffering to 
 those whose precipitancy has driven them to the com- 
 mission of this dreadful act : 
 
 " Proxima deinde tenent moesti loca qui sibi lethum 
 Insontes peperere manu ; lucisque perosi, 
 Projecere animas." 
 
 The Stoics only appear to have given it the name of 
 virtue. Plato, indeed, allows three reasonable grounds of 
 justification ; public trial, irremediable reverse of fortune, 
 and insupportable disgrace. On the last of these pleas, 
 
152 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 the fatal action of Peter de Vineis, the counsellor of the 
 Emperor Frederick the Second, would merit absolution : 
 
 " L'Anima mia, per disdegnoso gusto, 
 Credendo col morir fugir disdegno, 
 Ingiusto fece me contra me giusto." 
 
 Yet Dante places this once illustrious personage in 
 that circle of his Inferno which is set apart for self-mur- 
 derers, whose punishment is thus finely imagined : 
 
 u Quando si parte 1' anima feroce 
 
 Dal corpo, ond' ella stessa s' e disvelta, 
 
 Cade in la selva— 
 
 E la dove fortuna la balestra, 
 
 Quivi germoglia, &c. 
 
 Surge in vermena, et in pianta silvestra ; 
 
 L'Harpie pascendo poi de le sue foglie 
 
 Fanno dolor, et al dolor finest™." (C. 13.) 
 
 The speech of the Spartan Cleomenes, preserved by 
 Plutarch in his life, answering the advice of one of his 
 followers to put an end to his existence, is full of the 
 most genuine courage, and the noblest elevation of soul. 
 Banished from his country, which he adored, which he 
 had in vain spent his whole life in endeavouring to save 
 from destruction, torn from connexions of the tenderest 
 nature, from a wife and a mother whom he passionately 
 loved, proscribed by his enemies, deserted by his friends, 
 
MORAL. 153 
 
 hunted down by all Greece, without one reasonable 
 ground to hope a restoration to any of those beloved 
 objects from which he now appeared to be separated for 
 ever, he was still supported by the most sublime princi- 
 ples of philosophy, and by the truly religious persuasion 
 that nothing is impossible to the Deity, who will take 
 back the life he has given, then, and then only, when 
 he himself judges that it can no longer be of service 
 either to the possessor or to the world. 
 
 Hardly an instance has reached our times of so whim- 
 sical a cause for suicide as that of this enthusiastic Am- 
 braciot. At the same time it is a strong testimony to the 
 importance of the sacred doctrine which occasioned it, 
 and to the ardour with which the soul of man must have 
 caught at the first faint glimmerings of so glorious a hope 
 as that of its own immortality 
 
 " All hail, Remembrance and Forgetfulness." p. 114. 
 
 SI 7T0TVUZ Xri$Yi twv xcixcuv, cog si cro<po§ 
 Ken roi<n Ivg-v^oKnv SVKTOHOC §so§. 
 
 Euripid. Orestes. 213. 
 
 Can it, however, be doubted which of the two is the 
 greatest blessing ? " Suavius est tui meminisse quam cum 
 aliis versari " is, possibly, the very tenderest expression 
 that ever heart conceived, or tongue uttered. Separation 
 from a kindred soul can be soothed neither bv time nor 
 
154 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 place. We seek relief in forgetfulness, but end with 
 finding that, 
 
 Of all the lessons taught a lover yet 
 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget., 
 
 With this short preface a friend ushers in the following 
 little pieces. 
 
 To Estrella. 
 
 MYSELF. 
 
 I once despaired — for Fortune chill'd 
 My hope when last we met ; 
 I strove to keep my heart unflll'd, 
 I labour'd to forget. 
 
 A lone existence I design'd, 
 
 And for myself to live, 
 
 And sought those raptures in the mind 
 
 The heart was wont to give : 
 
 I fenced my narrow self around ; 
 And to that circle small 
 Resolved my every aim to bound, 
 My hope, my fear, my all. 
 
 I heeded not what others harm'd, 
 Unhurt myself alone ; 
 I loved, but as myself it warnrd, 
 The very sun that shone. 
 
MORAL. 155 
 
 The busy town, the prospect fair, 
 The walk, the light repast, 
 That once with her, 'twere bliss to share 
 Alone I strove to taste. 
 
 Estranged from love, estranged from hate, 
 My soul I strove to keep 
 Contracted in its torpid state, 
 And call'd it bliss to sleep : 
 
 Till, more and more indifferent grown, 
 At length I learn'd with dread 
 That he who lives for self alone, 
 E'en to himself is dead. 
 
 In field, in crowded hall, or home, 
 My only change was place ; 
 My soul unfill'd had now become 
 A dull and idle space ; 
 
 An empty mansion set apart 
 Without or joy, or care; 
 A sullen silence of the heart 
 More fearful than despair. 
 
 Oh come, and fill that hateful void, 
 Sweet image, loved in vain 1 
 Oh whisper pleasure once enjoy'd, 
 Sweet voice, and wake a pain ! 
 
156 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 And may the pain derived from thee 
 This irksome calm redress, 
 And memory, hitter tho* it be, 
 Replace forgetfulness. 
 
 Stanzas on waking in the morning. 
 
 How gladly once I hail'd the beams 
 That waked me from enchanting dreams 
 
 Estrella's beauty to disclose ; 
 Her panting bosom faint revealing, 
 Her glowing cheek, and lids concealing 
 
 Those orbs that robb'd me of repose. 
 
 Mutely each quiet sigh I number'd 
 
 That stole, unconscious, while she slumber'd 
 
 Within my fond encircling arms. 
 And wish'd but fear'd her dream to break 
 Till, all entranced, I saw her wake, 
 
 And smile, and give me all her charms. 
 
 But now I wake alone, forlorn ; 
 
 No bright Estrella crowns my morn : 
 
 I look, but no Estrella cheers me. 
 I stretch my arms to find my fair, 
 But no Estrella slumbers there ; 
 
 I speak, but no Estrella hears me. 
 
MORAL. 157 
 
 Remembrance of Estrella changed and forgetful. 
 
 Written at St. Dizier sur Marne ; adapted to the soft 
 air, (C C'est a mon maitre en Tart de plaire" — 
 
 That hour in memory yet I treasure 
 
 I saw her in her beauty's flower ; 
 My all of pain, my all of pleasure 
 
 I date from that remember'd hour. 
 A pain it is, that e'en in sadness 
 
 O'er all my bosom spreads a charm, 
 A mystic pleasure, at whose gladness 
 
 My heart is troubled with alarm. 
 
 Wide have I roam'd, since last we parted, 
 
 In search of peace I fail'd to find; 
 'Mid foes — but ah ! more tender-hearted 
 
 Than her I lately left behind. 
 Gay realm of France ! green, vine-clad mountains i 
 
 Calm vales, renown'd for beauty's choice ! 
 Her form I saw in all your fountains, 
 
 In all your breezes heard her voice. 
 
 By day I labour' d to forget her, 
 And vainly closed my fancy's view, 
 
 For in the dream of night I met her, 
 No more unkind, no more untrue. 
 
158 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 False dream, begone ! alone, heart-broken, 
 
 She knew I dtem'd myself forgot; 
 Yet from her hand arrives no token — 
 
 False dream, begone ! she loves me not. 
 
 " Art thou my friend? Forbear to do me guile." 
 
 p. 114. 
 
 ce Now God deliver me from my friends," says Mars- 
 ton's Malecontent. 
 
 « Thy Friends?" 
 
 " Yes — from my friends — for from mine enemies I 
 can deliver myself." 
 
 Perhaps the prettiest apology ever made on behalf of 
 flattery, is that conveyed by the following little epigram: 
 
 " Flatter n'est pas toujours un vice— 
 L'intention en fait la quaiite* ; 
 Si beaucoup flattent par malice, 
 Quelques-uns flattent par bonte\" 
 
 Flattery is not always vicious — 
 
 The motive makes it good or evil $ 
 
 If flatterers often are malicious, 
 
 Sometimes, at least, they 're. only civil. M. 
 
 Let me add, that rudeness to superiours is to indepen- 
 dence of mind, what sadness is to virtue, prudery to 
 honour, boasting to courage, and gravity to sense. The 
 French record with delight, every little bon-mot of their 
 
MORAL. 159 
 
 adored Henry the Fourth ; indeed in the character of 
 that gay, frank, gallant, and generous prince, the French 
 disposition as nature made it, before events perverted it, 
 is pourtray'd to the life. Let us hear his rebuke of one 
 of those insolent men, who affect bluntness for the pur- 
 pose of covering craft. 
 
 One day the great Henry, his courtiers among, 
 
 Perceived an odd figure, but sorrily dress'd, 
 
 Whose air, face, and manner, were none of the best : 
 
 — The Monarch, who eyed our unknown 'mid the throng, 
 
 Wish'd to learn what his name, and what rank he possessed : 
 
 He calls him—" And pray, your employment explain ; 
 
 Whom serve you ? " The simpleton, turgid and vain, 
 
 Made answer — " To none but myself I belong." 
 
 " How I pity, my friend," said the king, " your disaster, 
 
 You could never have had a worse fool for a master." B. 
 
 The want of courtly reverence for their rulers was 
 hardly (before the Revolution at least) to be numbered 
 among the prevalent defects of the French character. 
 Yet, sometimes, even a French poet could be worked 
 upon by neglect and insult to let his patron, as our 
 vulgar phrase has it, w know a bit of his mind." May- 
 nard, despised by the haughty and tasteless Cardinal 
 Richelieu, retorted in one of the most spirited attacks 
 ever levelled against a minister supposed to be conspiring 
 his country's ruin. 
 
160 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Par votre humeur le monde est gouvern£ ; 
 Vos volontes font le calme et l'orage ; 
 Et vous riez de me voir confine 
 Loin de la cour, dans mon petit village. &c." 
 
 I have thus ventured to paraphrase it. 
 
 The retired Courtier to a had Minister. 
 
 With England's weal or woe you sport, 
 You raise or calm the storm at will, 
 And laugh to see me far from court, 
 An idler in my village still. 
 
 Cleon, to thee I quit the field, 
 I love the desert where I dwell, 
 To evil times I learn to yield, 
 And, hermit-like, prefer my cell. 
 
 I love in years to sink unknown, 
 
 To live, and call myself my own, 
 
 And hope and fear alike resign ; 
 
 And if the stars that favour me 
 
 But pitied England's realm and thee, 
 
 Thy happiness would equal mine. B. 
 
 " Obsequium amicos, Veritas odium parit/' is the 
 remark of an old and experienced man in Terence. In 
 the same spirit is the following madrigal : 
 
MORAL. 161 
 
 " Quiconque ose parler avec since>ite, 
 Voit toujours a ses voeux la Fortune rebelle \ 
 Tandis que le flatteur porte avec vanite 
 Tous les jours parure nouvelle, 
 Les amis de la Verity 
 Sont nuds comme elle." 
 
 Whoever speaks with plain sincerity, 
 Is eyed by Fortune with a look askant ; 
 
 While some low fawning sycophant 
 
 Wears every day a new attire, 
 The friends of Verity 
 Go naked as the goddess they admire. , B. 
 
 We fear the Nuda Veritas of Horace has little but her 
 nudity to boast of. 
 
 (e When Venus bade the Aonian maids obey," p. 115. 
 
 Upon this principle, La Fontaine very justly observes, 
 
 " Le voile n'est le rempart le plus sur 
 Contre l\Amour, ni le moins accessible — 
 — Filles du monde ont toujours plus de peur, 
 Moins d'ennemis attaquent leur pudeur. 
 Les autres n'ont, pour un seul adversaire, &c. 
 Tentation, fille d'Oisivete^ 
 Ne manque pas d'agir de son cote* ;" &c. &c. 
 M 
 
162 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 It is upon the same principle, also, that Madame 
 Deshouljeres conveys in a rondeau her fears for the 
 safety of a young lady whose only fault appears to have 
 been an over fondness for indulging in the state which 
 is aptly enough denominated the Paradise of Fools : 
 
 Rondeau, tvith the burthen, " Entre deux draps" 
 
 " Entre deux draps de toile belle et bonne, 
 Que tres-souvent on rechange, on savonne, 
 La jeune Iris, au coeur sincere et haut, 
 Aux yeux brillans, a Tesprit sans defaut, 
 Jusqu'a midi volontiers se mitonne. 
 Je ne combats de gout contre person ne : 
 Mais franchement, sa paresse mitonne ; 
 C'est demeurer seule plus qu'il ne faut 
 Entre deux draps. 
 
 Quand a lever ainsi on s'abandonne, 
 Le traitre Amour rarement le pardonnej 
 A soupirer on s'exerce bientot, 
 Et la vertu soutient un grand assaut 
 Quand une fille avec son coeur raisonne 
 Entre deux draps." 
 
 Between two sheets, more fine than e'er 
 Embraced the limbs of virgin fair, 
 
MORAL. 163 
 
 The lovely, sprightly Iris lies ; 
 The sun has mounted up the skies, 
 Yet pretty Iris nestles there 
 Between two sheets. 
 
 From night till noon to lie alone ! 
 She dreams on something, ten to one ; 
 To blame another's taste were wrong ; 
 And yet, to lie so very long 
 Is rather odd, I frankly own, 
 Between two sheets. 
 
 Love fails not to avenge the treason 
 Of her who dreams so out of season : 
 A sigh escapes her, soft and tender ; 
 What can it mean ? Kind Heav'n defend her, 
 When with her heart she dares to reason 
 Between two sheets ! B. 
 
 " Idleness is the root of all evil." And, if we want 
 any further evidence of this profound truth, we have it 
 in the following story of Baraton's, respecting a thief 
 about to be brought to the gallows : 
 
 ce Certain matois ayant et£ 
 
 Pour divers larcins arretd," &c. 
 
 A certain sharper, caught at last, 
 For divers larcenies was cast : 
 
164 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 A friend, who heard he was confined, 
 Thought it but neighbourly and kind 
 
 To call and see him in his fetters. 
 
 " Good neighbour," said the zealous friend, 
 
 " To see thee in this piteous plight, 
 I'faith is but a sorry sight, 
 And leads but to a scurvy end. 
 
 You should have chosen some employment — 
 
 A life of idling and enjoyment 
 
 Is proper only for your betters. 
 
 'Tis industry that screens from want ; 
 And, tho' to learn a trade, I grant, 
 
 Be hard, the toil is to begin it." 
 The thief replied, ? A trade I had, 
 And, let me tell you, not so bad 
 
 If they had only left me in it." B. 
 
 " Spartan virtue." p. 1 1 7". 
 
 These three successive poems mark by very forcible 
 examples the peculiar doctrines and enthusiastic valour 
 of the Spartans. It is a subject too generally known to 
 need any illustration in this place. The whole system of 
 this celebrated nation is contained in two lines which 
 Plutarch has preserved : 
 
 'Oi $s Savov, ou £if v Ssjasvoi xu\ov, ovfa to §vyio~xsiv, 
 
 AXAa TQ TUVTCt Y.a.Kaoc, UptpOTSg SKTS\S0~ai. 
 
MORAL. 165 
 
 " Nor life nor death they count the happier state, 
 But life that's glorious, or a death that's great." 
 
 Langhorne. 
 
 ef Where has thy grandeur, Corinth, shrunk from sight f " 
 
 p. 119. 
 
 The Nereids, whose grots were on the coast near Co- 
 rinth, lament the sadness and solitude that reigns on the 
 spot where the ramparts, towers, and palaces of that 
 stately city once appeared. The destruction of Corinth 
 by the stupid Mummius was an event in the days of An- 
 tipater. The courage of a mother who slew her daugh- 
 ter and herself to escape the Roman yoke, is celebrated 
 in another Epigram by the same Poet, which I have 
 inserted among the " Monumental." 
 
 " Here sleeps a daughter by her mother's side." &c. 
 
 " That soul which vanquished war could never win" 
 
 p. 119. 
 
 This wish of the dying soldier was realized in the fol- 
 lowing anecdote. It is taken from Lord Clarendon's 
 History of tire Rebellion. 
 
 " Colonels Langhorn and Mitton, two very active 
 officers in the parliament service^ about Shropshire and 
 North Wales, by correspondence with some townsmen 
 
166 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 and some soldiers in the garrison of Shrewsbury, from 
 whence too many of that garrison were unhappily drawn 
 out, two or three days before, upon some expedition, 
 seized upon that town in the night ; and by the same 
 treachery likewise entered the castle, where Sir Michael 
 Earnly, the Governour, had been long sick, and rising 
 upon the alarm out of his bed, was killed in his shirt, 
 whilst he behaved himself as well as possible, and refused 
 quarter ; which did not shorten his life many days, he 
 being even at the point of death by a consumption, which 
 kept him from performing all those offices of vigilance 
 he was accustomed to ; being a gallant gentleman, who 
 understood the office and duty of a soldier by long expe- 
 rience, and diligent observation." Clar. Book viiL 
 
 " Oh Health, of all the heavenly powers" p. 120. 
 
 The rapture, which this hymn is calculated to inspire, 
 will be most forcibly felt by those whose lips have been 
 parched with fever, or whose cheeks have been flushed 
 with a hectic glow. Dr. Johnson, himself an acute 
 sufferer under sickness, who looked with a gloomy pre- 
 science towards future imbecility, paints the feelings com- 
 municated to him by this beautiful address, in colours as 
 glowing as those of the poem from which they are caught. 
 
 " There is," says he, u among the Fragments of the 
 Greek Poets, a short hymn to Health, in which the 
 
MORAL. 167 
 
 power of exalting the happiness of life, of heightening 
 the gifts of fortune, and adding enjoyment to possession, 
 is inculcated with so much force and beauty, that no one 
 who has ever languished under the discomforts and infir- 
 mities of a lingering disease, can read it without feeling 
 the images dance in his heart, and adding from his own 
 experience new vigour to the wish, and from his own 
 imagination new colours to the picture. The particular 
 occasion of this little composition is not known : but it 
 is probable that the author had been sick, and in the 
 first raptures of returning vigour addressed Health in the 
 following manner." Rambler, No. 48. 
 
 He then cites the original, accompanied with a trans- 
 lation, which, had it been in verse, would doubtless have 
 superseded the present attempt. 
 
 The origin of the peculiar species of composition de- 
 nominated Scolia, is ascribed to Alcaeus the Lesbian* 
 Anacreon was celebrated for his §colia, and Praxilla of 
 Sicyon (one of Antipater's earthly muses) owed much of 
 her reputation to those which she invented. They per- 
 haps obtained their title from their irregularity ; for they 
 were subject to none of the fixed laws of poetry ; and 
 many of them were the wild, unfinished, offspring of 
 momentary fancy ; but not, on that account, the less 
 calculated to excite delight and enthusiasm in the seasons 
 of mirth and festivity, to which alone they were conse- 
 crated. Some were sung by one joyous chorus of the 
 whole assembled company ; in others, all performed by 
 
168 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 turns ; others again were committed to a few of the most 
 experienced only, who were placed together in a separate 
 part of the banquet-room ; and even these frequently had 
 their distinct parts allotted them. They generally con- 
 sisted of some moral sentiment, or some just and appro- 
 priate allusion, which, delivered in a poetical shape, and 
 often veiled in allegory, was variously worked upon, 
 according to the taste of the composer. 
 
 Sometimes, however, they assumed a more methodical 
 form. The address to Health by Ariphronof Sicyon, and 
 that to Virtue by Aristotle, are complete and regular 
 hymns. We may also give that title to the most noble 
 ode of Callistratus, on the illustrious action of the two 
 Athenian patriots. It was, probably, this very poem 
 which was consecrated to future ages, and always per- 
 formed at the annual festival of the Panathensea. 
 
 u As gold the Lydian touchstone tries." p. 122. 
 
 Theognis applies to wine what is here attributed to the 
 force of truth : 
 
 Fire proves the treasures of the mine ; 
 The soul of man is proved by wine. 
 
 A very old thought on the subject of truth was hap- 
 pily improved by a M. de ITsle into the following little 
 apologue. I do not know whether it ever appeared in 
 
MORAL. 169 
 
 •^ 
 
 print before the late publication of the correspondence of 
 Baron Grimm, from which I take it. At all events, it 
 is little known ; I therefore give the original as well as 
 my imitation : 
 
 " Aux portes de la Sorbonne 
 La Verite' se montra ; 
 Le syndic la rencontra. 
 Que demandez vous, la bonne ?— 
 Helas ! l'hospitalit^.— 
 Votre nom ? — La VeVite. — * 
 
 Fuyez, dit-il en colere, 
 Fuyez, ou je monte en.chaire 
 Et crie a Timpiete ! — 
 Vous me chassez ; mais j'espere 
 Avoir mon tour, et j'attends : 
 Car je suis fille du Temps, 
 Et j'obtiens tout de mon pere." 
 
 At College, once of late 
 
 Was seen the modest face of Truth ; 
 
 The provost met the blushing youth, 
 
 And ask'd what brought him to their gate. 
 
 " 'Twas for admission, sir, I came." — 
 
 " Your name, young man." He gave his name. 
 
 (i Fly," cried the doctor in a fury — 
 
 " Fly— or this instant, I assure ye, 
 
170 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I'll bawl aloudj The Church in danger !" 
 tc You may refuse me," said the stranger — 
 u But to your cost you soon may learn 
 That Truth is sure to have his turn. 
 Old Father Chronos is my sire, 
 And grants whatever I require." M. 
 
 " The heroes' happy Isles." p. 123. 
 
 This island (for there does not appear to have been 
 more than one) was called by the various names of 
 Leuce, Achillea, the Island of the Blessed, and the Island 
 of Heroes. Its situation was in the Euxine sea, near 
 the mouths of the Danube. Achilles was supposed to 
 have been transported thither after his death in a corpo- 
 real form, and to have enjoyed the society of Helen and 
 Iphigenia, and the pleasing pursuits of poetry and music 
 through an immortal life. 
 
 A poetical use has been made of this fiction in Mr. 
 Wharton's poem of Roncesvalles, where the spirit of the 
 Grecian hero is finely imagined to shed its influence over 
 the waters of the Euxine, and favour the passage of the 
 Paladins of France : 
 
 the Grecian ghost 
 
 Shed a deep stillness o'er the gloomy coast : 
 For him the presence of that knightly train 
 Fired with the thought of arms and Hector slain." 
 
MORAL. 171 
 
 The romantic legends concerning this celebrated island 
 are various and amusing. Leonymus, a general of the 
 Crotoniates, having visited it for the superstitious purpose 
 of procuring some sympathetic remedy for a wound re- 
 ceived in battle, reported on his return, that he had been 
 favoured with a sight of Achilles, accompanied by the 
 Ajaces, Patroclus, Antilochus, and other heroes. 
 
 Immortal youth was a gift of heaven to these trans- 
 lated beings. The favour of Diana to Iphigenia had 
 procured this blessing for her, and it was not taken away 
 on her removal from Tauris to this happy island.* 
 
 Strangers who touched at the island always hastened 
 their departure, from a superstitious dread ; for even 
 those who only sailed within view of it, heard sounds of 
 martial music, the trampling of horses, the clashing of 
 arms, and cries like those of battle. 
 
 Yet some, whom curiosity tempted, or adverse winds 
 compelled, to pass the night on shore, do not appear, from 
 their own accounts, to have suffered for their mischance 
 or temerity \ for, after offering up the proper sacrifices, 
 they frequently heard the songs of the hero, and even 
 saw his form, clothed in the brightest bloom of youth, 
 and sometimes dancing to martial music in his golden 
 armour. 
 
 One favoured seaman, having fallen asleep by chance 
 on the shore, was awakened by Achilles, and led by 
 him to a magnificent pavilion, where a banquet was 
 spread for his entertainment. Patroclus poured out his 
 
172 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 wine, and performed the office of his cup-bearer, and 
 Achilles himself amused him with his lyre ; Thetis and 
 others of the gods were present on the occasion. 
 
 This anecdote, if the real truth of it were known, 
 might perhaps make a good counterpart to the tale of the 
 sleeper awakened, or to an incident of a similar nature, 
 recorded of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, and 
 which gave rise to the Induction of Shakspeare's 
 u Taming of the Shrew." We may full as easily believe 
 that a Grecian sailor, as that an English or Flemish 
 clown may be imposed upon by the merry humour of 
 some waggish lord. 
 
 Those who have not leisure nor inclination to consult 
 all the works of the ancient writers, in which the wonders 
 of this extraordinary place are recorded, will find their 
 curiosity amply gratified by perusing Bayle, in the article 
 " Achillea," where, in addition to the circumstances 
 already mentioned, the idea of the Greeks that no birds 
 could fly beyond this fated barrier, is investigated, and a 
 very curious account is given of the impieties committed 
 by the Amazons on their passage into Greece, and of the 
 signal punishment inflicted on them by the deified hero 
 of the island. 
 
 a My riches are the arms I wield." p. 124. 
 
 This worthy Cretan describes himself much like the 
 feudal chieftains of the middle ages, and may remind 
 
MORAL. 173 
 
 the reader at once of Shakspeare's Hotspur, and of Scot's 
 Fitzjames : 
 
 " Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 
 But one who lives by lance and sword ; 
 Whose castle is his helm and shield, 
 His lordship, the embattled field. 
 What from a prince can I demand, 
 Who neither reck of state nor land ? " 
 
 " Unknown? unheeded, shaltthou die." p. J 25. 
 
 The fire and enthusiasm which so strongly mark the 
 writings, and pourtray the character of Sappho, appear 
 in none of her works that have come down to us, more 
 unequivocally than in this little fragment. It has the 
 appearance of a burst of indignation at some home-spun 
 mighty good sort of woman, who had neither a soul sus- 
 ceptible of poetry herself, nor the sense to admire, nor 
 the candour to allow of it, in others. This is a description 
 of persons which has always been severely handled by 
 poets, and the stigma of contempt with which they are 
 branded by Sappho is a luxury to what they are sen- 
 tenced to undergo by Dante : 
 
 " Questi sciaurati, che mai non fur vivi 
 Erano ignudi, e stimolati molto 
 Da mosconi, e da vespi, ch'eran ivi. 
 . , questo misero modo 
 
174 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Tengon Tanime tristi di coloro 
 Che visser senza fama e senza lodo." 
 
 The character of another worthy young lady of this 
 description is here cited as an example to those who 
 think every fault atoned for by a good person : 
 
 " Avoir l'esprit bas et vulgaire, 
 Manger, dormir, et ne rien faire, 
 Ne rien savoir, n'apprendre rien ; 
 
 C'est le nature! dTsabelle 
 Qui semble pour tout entretien 
 
 Dire seulement — Je suis belle. ,, — 
 
 To have a talent base and low, 
 
 To live in state of vegetation, 
 
 To eat, drink, nothing learn, nor know, 
 
 Such is the genius of Miss Kitty, 
 
 Who seems, for all her conversation, 
 
 To say — Look at me, I am pretty. B. 
 
 The following repartee of a child, whose talent, like 
 that of Sappho, was decried, contains a good spice of 
 simple pleasantry : 
 
 " Autrefois, a la cour d'un celebre monarque." 
 
 At the court of a monarch for grandeur renown'd, 
 A child six years old sucK a talent display'd, 
 That the courtiers by hundreds who listen'd around, 
 Were bewilder' d to hear the remarks that he made* 
 
MORAL. 175 
 
 One of these vow'd the infant would turn out a looby, 
 Because, when grown up, one is ever a booby, 
 Whose infancy teem'd with a wit so commanding : 
 The boy, who o'erheard him, replied with a leer, 
 " My Lord, by this rule, in your childhood 'tis clear, 
 That your Lordship enjoy'd a profound understanding." 
 
 B. 
 
 To conclude ; the best advice that can be given, in their 
 life time, to all those who after their death will merit an 
 epitaph, like this which Sappho composed, is — to make 
 as little noise, and as little shew, as possible. 
 
 " Spectaris et tu spectabere." 
 
 (( I'll take a thousand pound," says Ned, 
 
 (Poor Ned is but a flat,) 
 " To see the world of which I've read 5 
 
 Men, manners, and all that." 
 i6 Thy scheme," said Dick, who saw his bent, 
 
 " Is charming, I'll agree ; 
 But add a thousand, to prevent 
 
 The world from seeing thee." B. 
 
 We may admit, as a set -off against the foregoing 
 examples, the following complimentary verses addressed 
 by the poet Toscanus to that fair pride and boast of Italy, 
 
 " la nudrita 
 
 Damigella Trivulzia al sacro speco." 
 
176 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 66 Quod genere et censu prsestes Trivultia multis," &c, 
 
 That you in wealth and noble birth excel, 
 Well may you boast, yet others boast as well ; 
 A form, that few can match, surpass'd by none, 
 Yet, though it shines unrivall'd, not alone ; 
 A spotless virtue, which, though none can dare 
 To question, others yet as spotless are ; 
 Beloved of science, and- alone beloved, 
 Yet once her love the Lesbian Sappho proved : 
 But to be noble, rich, fair, chaste, and wise; 
 This, honour'd Lady, is your single prize. M. 
 
MORAL. 
 
 FROM THE ELEGIAC AND GNOMIC 
 POETS. 
 
 N 
 
MORAL. 
 
 FROM THE ELEGIAC AND GNOMIC 
 POETS. 
 
 Archilochus, 1. i. 40. 
 
 PATIENCE UNDER SUFFERING. M. 
 
 Oh, Pericles ! in vain the feast is spread : 
 To mirth and joy the afflicted state is dead. 
 The billows of the deep-resounding sea 
 Burst o'er our heads and drown our revelry : 
 Grief swells our veins with pangs unfelt before ; 
 But Jove's high clemency reserves in store 
 All-suffering patience for his people's cure. 
 The best of healing balms is, To endure. 
 Heaven's vengeance will not always last — if we 
 Now weep in blood our nature's misery, 
 Soon shall the heavy scale of evil turn, 
 And our full draught augment another's urn. 
 Oh suffer then the common trials sent, 
 And cast away your womanish lament. 
 
180 MORAL, ELEGIAC,&c. 
 
 Mimnermusy 1. i. 60. 
 YOUTH AND AGE. B. 
 
 Oh what is life by golden love unblest ? 
 Belter be mine the grave's eternal rest. 
 The furtive kiss, soft pledge and genial tie, 
 Are flowers of youth, that passing smile and die 
 Old age succeeds, and dulls each finer sense, 
 When all we hope, at most, is Reverence. 
 Age brings misfortune clearer to our sight, 
 Damps every joy and dims the cheerful light, 
 And scatters frowns, and thins the silvery hair, 
 Hateful to youth, unlovely to the fair. 
 
 From the same, 2. i. 60. 
 EVILS OF MORTALITY. B. 
 
 We too as leaves that, in the vernal hours, 
 Greet the new sun, refresh'd by fruitful show'rs, 
 Rejoice, exulting in our vigorous prime, 
 Nor good nor evil marks the noiseless time ; 
 But round our birth the gloomy Fates preside, 
 And smile malignant on our fleeting pride ; 
 One with cold age prepared to blast our bloom, 
 One arm'd with death to hide it in the tomb. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 181 
 
 Our better moments smile and pass away, 
 E'en as the sun that shines and sets to-day : 
 When youth is flown, death only can assuage 
 And yield a refuge from the ills of age. 
 All mourn adversity — One, nobly bred, 
 Toils, a poor slave to him his bounty fed ; 
 One, solitary,* seeks the tomb's embrace, 
 With no transmitter of his. name and race; 
 While sick and faint, or rack'd by ceaseless fears, 
 Another journeys down the vale of years. 
 
 Solon, 6. i 66. 
 JUSTICE. M. 
 
 Short are the triumphs to injustice given ; 
 Jove sees the end of all : like vapours driven 
 By early spring's impetuous blast, that sweeps 
 Along the billowy surface of the deeps, 
 Or passing o'er the fields of tender green 
 Lays in sad ruin all the lovely scene, 
 Till it reveals the clear celestial blue, 
 And gives the palace of the Gods to view ; 
 Then bursts the sun's full radiance from the skies, 
 Where not a cloud can form, nor vapour rise ; 
 — Such is Jove's vengeance : not like human ire, 
 Blown in an instant to a scorching fire, 
 
182 MORAL, ELEGIAC &c. 
 
 But slow and certain : tho' it long may lie 
 Wrapt in the vast concealment of the sky, 
 Yet never does the dread avenger sleep, 
 And tho' the sire escape, the son shall weep. 
 
 From the same, 17. i. 71. 
 THE CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS. M. 
 
 The force of snow and furious hail is sent 
 
 From swelling clouds that load the firmament. 
 
 Thence the loud thunders roar, and lightnings glare 
 
 Along the darkness of the troubled air. 
 
 Unmoved by storms, old ocean peaceful sleeps 
 
 Till the loud tempest swells the angry deeps ; 
 
 And thus the state, in fell distraction tost, 
 
 Oft by its noblest citizens is lost, 
 
 And oft a people^ once secure and free, 
 
 Their own imprudence dooms to tyranny. 
 
 My laws have arm'd the crowd with useful might, 
 
 Have banish' d honours and unequal right, 
 
 Have taught the proud in wealth, and high in place, 
 
 To reverence justice, and abhor disgrace ; 
 
 And given to both a shield, their guardian tower 
 
 Against ambitious aims and lawless power. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 18S 
 
 From the same, 2. i. 65. 
 REMEMBRANCE AFTER DEATH. M. 
 
 Oh let not death, unwept, unhonour'd, be 
 The melancholy fate allotted me ! 
 But those who loved me living, when I die, 
 Still fondly keep some cherish'd memory. 
 
 Msop, i. 76. 
 DEATH, THE SOVEREIGN REMEDY. B. 
 
 Who, but for death, could find repose 
 From life, and life's unnumber'd woes, 
 From ills that mock our art to cure, 
 As hard to fly as to endure ? 
 Whate'er is sweet without alloy, 
 And sheds a more exalted joy, 
 Yon glorious orb that gilds the day, 
 Or, placid moon, thy silver ray, 
 Earth, sea, whate'er we gaze upon, 
 Is thine, oh Nature, thine alone ; 
 The gifts that to ourselves we owe 
 (Insidious race) are fear and woe, 
 Chance-pleasure, hardly worth possessing, 
 Ten curses for a single blessing. 
 
184 MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 
 
 Simonides, 18. i. 128. 
 THE MISERIES OF LIFE. B. 
 
 Jove rules the world, and with resistless sway 
 
 Demands to-morrow what he gave to-day ; 
 
 In vain our thoughts to future scenes we cast, 
 
 Or only read them darkly in the past ; 
 
 For hope enchanting points to new delights, 
 
 And charms with dulcet sounds, and heav'nly sights ; 
 
 Expecting yet some fancied bliss to share, 
 
 We grasp at bubbles that dissolve in air, 
 
 And some a day, and some whole years await 
 
 The whims and chances of capricious fate ; 
 
 Nor yet the lovely visions are possess'd — 
 
 Another year remains to make them blest, 
 
 While age creeps on to tear their dreams away, 
 
 And grim diseases hover round their prey ; 
 
 Or war with iron hold unlocks the grave, 
 
 Devouring myriads of the young and brave. 
 
 Some on the billows rock'd that roll on high 
 
 Cling to the plank in vain, and wasted die ; 
 
 Some by the halter lay their miseries down, 
 
 And rush unsummon'd to a place unknown. 
 
 Our very sweets possess a secret. harm, 
 
 Teem with distress, and poison while they charm ; 
 
 The fatal Sisters hover round our birth, 
 
 And dash with bitter dregs our cup on earth : 
 
 Yet cease to murmur at thy fate in vain, 
 
 And in oblivion steep the shaft of pain. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 185 
 
 From the same, 104. i. 145. 
 UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. M. 
 
 All human things are subject to decay ; 
 
 And well the man of Chios tuned his lay, 
 
 tc Like leaves on trees the race of man is found." 
 
 Yet few receive the melancholy sound, 
 
 Or in their breasts imprint this solemn truth ; 
 
 For hope is near to all, but most to youth. 
 
 Hope's vernal season leads the laughing hours, 
 
 And strews o'er every path the fairest flowers. 
 
 To cloud the scene no distant mists appear, 
 
 Age moves no thought, and death awakes no fear. 
 
 Ah, how unmindful is the giddy crowd 
 
 Of the small span to youth and life allow'd 
 
 Ye who reflect, the short-lived good employ, 
 
 And while the power remains, indulge your joy. 
 
 Bacchylides, 9. i. 150. 
 PEACE. B. 
 
 For thee, sweet Peace, abundance leads along 
 Her jovial train, and bards awake to song. 
 On many an altar, at thy glad return, 
 Pure victims bleed, and holy odours burn ; 
 
186 MORAL, ELEGIAC; &c. 
 
 And frolic youth their happy age apply 
 To graceful movements, sports, and minstrelsy. 
 Dark spiders weave their webs within the shield ; 
 Rust eats the spear, the terror of the field ; 
 Arid brazen trumpets now no more affright 
 The silent slumber, and repose of night. 
 Banquet and song, and revel fill the ways, 
 And youths and maidens sing their roundelays. 
 
 Theognis. 
 YOUTH AND AGE. B. 
 
 Ah me ! alike o'er youth and age I sigh, 
 Impending age, and youth that hastens by ; 
 Swift as a thought the flowing moments roll, 
 Swift as a racer speeds to reach the goal. 
 How rich, how happy the contented guest, 
 Who leaves the banquet soon, and sinks to rest 
 Damps chill my brow, my pulses flutt'ring beat, 
 Whene'er the vigorous pride of youth I meet 
 Pleasant, and lovely ; hopeful to the view 
 As golden visions, and as transient too : 
 But ah ! no terrors stop, nor vows, nor tears 
 Life's mournful evening, and the gloom of years. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 187 
 
 From the same. 
 
 EXHORTATION TO ENJOYMENT. B. 
 
 May peace and riches crown my native towers, 
 Nor war nor tumults break our festive hours ; 
 May glorious Jove, embracing earth and sky, 
 Exulting view our mortal harmony ; 
 Thou, sweet Apollo, touch the happy crew, 
 And warm our hearts to raptures strange and new ; 
 With shell and lute high raise the strain divine, 
 And rich libations pour on every shrine ! 
 While to the Powers above our praises flow, 
 Inspiring wine shall make us gods below : 
 In pleasant converse wrapt, the social soul 
 Heeds not the wars that shake the northern pole. 
 
 Thus to be ever charm'd were sure the best, 
 With every fretful feverish pulse at rest, 
 In joy and mirth to drown the din of arms, 
 The frost of years to come, and Death's alarms. 
 
 Sweet youth is mine — I revel in her bloom ; 
 (How soon condemn'd to wither in the tomb !) 
 Tho' fair in fame, for noble lineage known, 
 Mute, cold, and dull, as yon neglected stone, 
 Soon shall I leave the whisp'ring air and sky, 
 And darkly slumber through futurity. 
 Be soothed my soul — How soon another race, 
 Shall claim whatever is mine of power or place ; 
 
188 MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 
 
 And o'er the mournful spot regardless go, 
 Where my bones mingle with the earth below ! 
 But ever shall my conscious heart rejoice 
 At Pleasure's breath and Music's heavenly voice ; 
 Pleased will I sport, while fragrant draughts inspire, 
 Or sing symphonious to the minstrel's lyre : 
 Death's horrid realm no sense of bliss pervades, 
 Nor wine, nor lyre, nor beauty please the shades. 
 Then, while on earth my winged pulses beat, 
 While throbs my heart with youth's delicious heat, 
 Charm'd will I yield to every new delight, 
 Ere mournful age shall tear it from my sight. 
 
 From the same,, 
 REASONABLE EXPECTATIONS. M. 
 
 Could wealth with sorrow unalloy'd be mine, 
 Oh might my board with varied plenty shine ! 
 But, since just Fortune doles to each his share, 
 Be mine a poorer lot, but free from care ! 
 
 Bion. Idyll. 5. 
 SHORTNESS OF LIFE. M. 
 
 If any virtue my rude songs can claim, 
 Enough the Muse has given to build my fame; 
 
MORAL, ELEGAIC, &c. 189 
 
 But if condemned ingloriously to die, 
 Why longer raise my mortal minstrelsy ? 
 Had Jove or Fate to life two seasons lent, 
 In toil and ease alternate to be spent, 
 Then well one portion labour might employ 
 In expectation of the following joy ; 
 But if one only age of life is due 
 To man, and that so short and transient too, 
 How long (ah miserable race !) in care 
 And fruitless labour waste the vital air ? 
 How long with idle toil to wealth aspire, 
 And feed a never-satisfied desire ? 
 How long forget that, mortal from our birth, 
 Short is our troubled sojourn on the earth ? 
 
 From the Elegies of Tyrto3Us y i. 48, fyc. 
 COURAGE AND PATRIOTISM. H. 
 
 Ne'er would I praise that man, nor deign to sing, 
 First in the race, or strongest at the ring, 
 Not though he boast a ponderous Cyclops' force 
 Or rival Boreas in his rapid course, 
 Not tho* Aurora might his name adore, 
 Tho' Eastern riches swell his countless store, 
 Tho' power and splendour to his name belong, 
 And soft persuasion dwell upon his tongue, 
 
190 MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 
 
 Tho' all but god-like valour, were his own : 
 
 My Muse is sacred to the brave alone ; 
 Who can look carnage in the face, and go 
 Against the foremost warriors of the foe. 
 
 By Heaven high courage to mankind was lent, 
 Best attribute of youth, best ornament. 
 The man whom blood and danger fail to daunt, 
 Fearless who fights, and ever in the front, 
 Who bids his comrades barter useless breath 
 For a proud triumph or a prouder death, 
 He is my theme — He only, who can brave 
 With single force the battle's rolling wave, 
 Can turn his enemies to flight, and fall 
 Beloved, lamented, deified by all. 
 His household gods, his own parental land 
 High in renown, by him exalted stand ; 
 Alike the heirs and founders of his name 
 Share his deserts and borrow from his fame : 
 He, pierced in front with many a gaping wound, 
 Lies, great and glorious, on the bloody ground, 
 From every eye he draws one general tear, 
 And a whole nation follows to his bier; 
 Illustrious youths sigh o'er his early doom, 
 And late posterity reveres his tomb. 
 Ne'er shall his memorable virtue die, 
 Tho' cold in earth, immortal as the sky ; 
 He for his country fought, for her expired : 
 Oh would all imitate whom all admired ! 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 191 
 
 But if he sleep not with the mighty dead, 
 And living laurels wreathe his honour'd head, 
 By old, by young, adored, he gently goes 
 Down a smooth path-way to his long repose, 
 Unaltering friends still love his hairs of snow, 
 And rising elders in his presence bow. 
 Would ye, like him, the wond'ring world engage, 
 
 Draw the keen blades, and let the battle rage ! 
 ***** 
 
 Yes, it is sweet in Death's first ranks to fall 
 
 Where our loved country's threatening dangers call ! 
 
 But he who flies dishonour'd from his home, 
 
 And foully driven in beggary to roam, 
 
 His wife and children shrieking in his ears, 
 
 His sire with shame abash'd, his mother drown'd in tears, 
 
 —What indignation at his cowardice 
 
 Shall flash upon him from all honest eyes ! 
 
 How shall he stain, for ever stain his blood, 
 
 Rich tho' it flow, descended from the good ! 
 
 How shall he brand with infamy his brow ! 
 
 (Fair tho' it was, 'tis fair no longer now :) 
 
 — An outcast wanderer through a scoffing world 
 
 Till to an ignominious grave he's hurl'd ; 
 
 Known to all future ages by his shame, 
 
 A blot eternal on the rolls of fame ! 
 
 But let us firmly stand, and scorn to fly, 
 Save all we love, or with our country die, 
 
192 MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 
 
 Knit in indissoluble files, a band 
 
 Of brothers fighting for our native land ; 
 
 Ne'er let us see the veteran soldier's arm 
 
 Than ours more forward, or his heart more warm ; 
 
 Let us not leave him in the midst of foes, 
 
 Feeble with age, to deal unequal blows ; 
 
 Or in the van lie slain, with blood besmear'd 
 
 His wrinkled forehead and his snowy beard, 
 
 Stript of his spoils through many a battle worn, 
 
 And gay assumed, that inauspicious morn, 
 
 Breathing his soul out bravely at our feet — 
 
 Ne'er may our eyes a sight so shameful meet ! 
 
 But oh, be ours, while yet our pulse beats high 
 
 For gory death, or glorious victory, 
 
 Be ours, if not an honourable grave, 
 
 Smiles of the fair, and friendship of the brave ! 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 
 
 " Oh Pericles, in vain the feast is spread." p. 179. 
 
 On what occasion this Elegy, which Stobseus has pre- 
 served, was composed, is a question that has divided 
 the commentators. The expression, Kvpct no\uq>\oi<rGoio 
 daAacrcrrjj has by some. been adopted literally, and they 
 have even referred it to the death of a brother-in-law of 
 the poet, said to have perished at sea. However, it has 
 generally met with a figurative solution, and this is 
 strongly assisted by a passage from Sophocles, in which 
 the same remarkable metaphor is made use of, and pur- 
 sued into a very sublime allegory, allusive to the pestilence 
 at Thebes : 
 
 TloKig yap c*)<77rep xuvrog ei<rog<x$, Sec. Oed. Tyr. 
 
 The city, dash'd about from side to side 
 By the rude surges of the whelming tide, 
 Reels dangerously on, and scarce can keep 
 Her sinking head above the billowy deep. M. 
 
 No commentator has gone so far as to hazard a conjec- 
 
 O 
 
194 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ture (to which the name of Pericles, the fitness of the 
 metaphor, and of all the circumstances attending it, and 
 the coincidence of expressions here used, with some of 
 those in the passage above quoted, may give some colour) 
 that the age of this poem has been antedated, and that it 
 refers to the famous plague of Athens, described by 
 Thucydides. 
 
 Indeed the same image of a ship in a storm, has .been 
 applied by Horace, to a state distracted by civil commo- 
 tions. And this latter interpretation has also been given 
 to a spirited fragment of Alcaeus, from which Horace 
 probably borrowed the design of his ode : 
 
 On every side the surges sweep, 
 While o'er the bosom of the deep 
 Our tempest-beaten bark is borne, 
 Her sails in shapeless fragments torn, 
 Her tall masts o'er the billows roll'd, 
 Her anchors broken from their hold ; 
 And the storm's resistless sway 
 Bears wild confusion and dismay. M. 
 
 However this may be with respect to the poem before 
 us, the necessity of an allegorical interpretation is evident 
 from the whole tenor of it. But let the occasion which 
 produced it be what it may, the strain of morality and 
 poetry with which it concludes, will lead every reader to 
 rejoice in its preservation. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 195 
 
 a Oh what is life hy golden love unblest ?" p. 180. 
 
 Brunck has given us, in his notes to the (i Gnomici 
 Poetse," a very animated translation of this fragment of 
 Mimnermus, from the M&noires de l'Academie, Tom. X. 
 294. 
 
 " Que seroit, sans l'amour, le plaisir et la vie ? 
 
 Puisse-t-elle m'etre ravie 
 Quand je perdrai le gout d'un mystere amoureux, 
 Des faveurs, des lieux faits pour les amans heureux. 
 Cueillons la fleur de l'age — elle est bientot passee : 
 Le sexe n'y fait rien : la vieillesse glae6e 
 Vient avec la laideur confondre la beaute. 
 L'homme alors est en proye aux soins, a la tristesse; 
 Ha'i des jeunes gens, des belles maltraite, 
 Du soleil, a regret, il souffre la clarte : 
 
 Voila le sort de la Vieillesse." 
 
 The delights of love are exalted by their mystery; 
 and the « furtive kiss" has ever been the most highly 
 cherished. 
 
 The Stealth of Love. 
 
 " Dear is the stealth of love — the whisper dear 
 
 That breathes the thought of lovers, when they fear, 
 When rapture ventures, and suspicion chains, 
 And dread with fond desire the fight maintains. 
 
lf>6 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 All eloquence is theirs, — the varying cheek 
 Eye, limb, and changeful feature, learn to speak ; 
 Nor more their ways of utterance, than to know 
 The hidden heart from eye, or speaking brow ; 
 For well each new emotion they divine, 
 And read a wish in every mystic sign, 
 While from the vulgar crowd they hide their tires. 
 And in cold greetings mask their warm desires." B. 
 Four Slaves of Cythera, Canto 5. 
 
 The Grecian Elegy was not confined to amorous, or 
 entirely to pathetic subjects. Its qualities are well 
 illustrated by Bishop Lowth, in his Lectures on the 
 Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews. " There are," he ob- 
 serves, " other kinds of poetry, which, while they exercise 
 ce us in an agreeable and familiar way, never assume a 
 " graver countenance. Such is Elegy : I do not mean 
 " the light amatory Elegy, but that class of poems 
 " anciently known by the name, wise, holy, severe, the 
 fe guide of life, the mistress of morality, the directress of 
 " governments, the forerunner of virtue." 
 
 When we turn over to the Elegies of Solon, the 
 Athenian lawgiver, we shall find the character above 
 given perfectly just and correct in all its particulars ; 
 but even the fragments of Mimnermus, when rightly 
 estimated, do not essentially vary from it ; for we are not 
 to consider them as the mere effusions of a poetical 
 mind, but as the exposition of certain philosophical 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 197 
 
 doctrines, which, however erroneous, obtained credit 
 among many of the wisest men in Greece. It is to these 
 opinions, and, possibly, to this very poem, that Horace 
 alludes, when he says — 
 
 w Si, Mimnermus uti censet, sine Amore Jocisque 
 Nil est jucundum, vivas in Amore Jocisque," 
 
 Ci If life's insipid without Mirth and Love, 
 
 Let Love and Mirth insipid life improve." Francis. 
 
 f We too as leaves that in the vernal hours" p. 180. 
 
 The comparison in these verses will bring to our 
 recollection the speech of Glaucus to Diomed in the sixth 
 book of the Iliad. There is likewise a resemblance, too 
 strong to be passed over, between the passage describing 
 the two Fates, one armed with death, the other with old 
 age, which hang over our existence, and that in the Iliad 
 which concludes the speech of Sarpedon to Glaucus : 
 
 Mupiou, uc, ovx ef* <pvyhv (Spojov ov$ V7rctXv&i» 
 
 The superior genius of Homer strongly shines in this 
 instance of comparison. Mimnermus is at pains to pre- 
 sent a picture to the imagination, on which he labours, 
 to give it the due effect. Homer, by a single stroke, 
 presents an idea, vast, majestic, and general; not de- 
 
198 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 scending into particulars, disdaining every thing like 
 conceit and epigram. 
 
 Of all the sad items which this poem presents, the 
 most fearful is, to bid farewell to our short residence of 
 sorrow and tribulation : 
 
 " The weariest and most loathed worldly life 
 That age, ache, penury, imprisonment 
 Can lay on nature, were a Paradise, 
 To what we fear of death." 
 
 The lines of Moschus, differently modified, which, 
 with fifty others, I translated when a boy, have been the 
 groundwork of a larger proportion of sonnets and senti- 
 mental pieces, than any thought that ever fell from the 
 pen of man — If my memory is not treacherous, my first 
 paraphrase was as follows : - 
 
 Ah ! me, the blooming summer bowers decay, 
 The herbs and flowerets cease to greet the day, 
 Another spring shall bid them bloom again, 
 Wake the cold bud, and cheer the slumbering plain^ 
 Man wakes not to the call — great, glorious, wise, 
 When death's cold dewy fingers close his eyes, 
 In earth's dark cave his narrow prospects close 
 In one unconscious, boundless, dull repose. B. 
 
 The same idea prompted the « soles redire " of Ca- 
 tullus, and is again faintly repeated in the following 
 stanzas. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 199 
 
 The sun scarce daring to appear 
 Again in youthful pride shall flame ; 
 
 Another and another year 
 
 Shall view his glorious orb the same ; 
 
 But ah, from me, by sickness worn, 
 And shuddering at the tomb's embrace, 
 
 Each year some darling joy has torn, 
 And left a sorrow in its place. B. 
 
 From a poem to my friends in illness. 
 
 H Short are the triumphs to injustice given" p. 181. 
 
 The patriotism of the Greeks was a genuine devotion 
 of mind produced by reflection, animated by example, 
 encouraged by the writings of sages and philosophers, 
 who ranked it among the most exalted qualities of 
 humanity. The Athenian law-giver delivered in verse 
 the precepts on which his republic was founded; and 
 the short fragments here translated, are presented as a 
 specimen only of a very extensive poem on the subject, 
 part of which has beensaved from the ruins of time. The 
 character of the poet, as well as of his works, has been 
 more justly and honourably appreciated by none, than by 
 the late venerable author of the Observer: " Though he 
 was an adept in the philosophy of the times, it neither 
 soured his manners nor left him without attention to the 
 public : when he withdrew from the world for the purposes 
 
200_ ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 of study and contemplation, it was to render himself a more 
 useful citizen on his return to society." — " His philosophy 
 did not boast any unnatural contempt of pain or pleasure ; 
 he affected no apathy; on the contrary, when he was re- 
 proached for weeping at the death of his son, as if it was 
 unbecoming of a wise man to bewail an evil he, could not 
 remedy, he answered with a modest sensibility of his 
 weakness, that it was on that very account he did bewail 
 it." 
 
 " Oh may not death, unwept, unhonour *d, be 
 The melancholy fate allotted me V* p. 183. 
 
 The wish of having our memory preserved, after 
 death, by those who were the objects of our love and af- 
 fection, while living, seems to be implanted by nature in 
 our minds. Tibullus, in that pathetic elegy which he 
 addresses to his young companions when languishing 
 under a severe illness, and in expectation of his dissolu- 
 tion, has paid a tender and affecting tribute to this general 
 feeling of mankind. 
 
 (( Vivite felices, memores et vivite nostri 
 Sive erimus, seu nos fata fuisse volenti 
 
 For me, whatever fate the gods provide, 
 Whether to view awhile life's pleasing scene, 
 Or lie at rest with those who once have been, 
 Long, long on you may peace and joy attend, 
 But cherish still the memory of your friend! M. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 201 
 
 This simple sentiment appears to the highest advantage 
 when contrasted with the unnatural affected insensibility 
 of the Stoics, and the selfish apathy of the Epicureans — 
 Seneca has preserved the following sentence of Mecaenas, 
 
 " Nee tumulum euro. Sepelit natura relictos." 
 
 The surly epitaph of Ennius is well known ; and so is 
 Horace's k< Oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis," 
 and his u Absint inani funere neniae," which Creech has 
 rendered with unusual spirit: 
 
 " Mourn not — no friendly drops must fall, 
 
 No sighs attend my funeral ! 
 
 Such common deaths may crave. 
 
 Let no disgraceful grief appear, 
 
 Nor damp my glory with a tear, 
 And spare the useless honours of a grave." 
 
 These sentiments may be very well suited to a disap- 
 pointed and melancholy recluse, who feels a kind of mo- 
 rose satisfaction in the idea of separation from mankind : 
 
 cc The world forgetting, by the world forgot/' 
 
 And our old dramatic poet, Webster, has given a most 
 characteristic expression to this gloomy pride and misan- 
 thropy in the person of a tyrant at the hour of dissolution : 
 
 u How miserable a thing it is to die 
 'Mongst women howling !" 
 
 The philosophical often treads closely on the trifling, both 
 
202 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 in sentiment and language. No Epicurean whatever, 
 hardly a Stoic, need be ashamed of owning the doctrine 
 contained in the following stanza, which a French gen- 
 tleman sent to his mistress with a translation of Petro- 
 nius's Ephesian Matron : 
 
 The fair Ephesian Matron's fault, 
 Who tore her husband from his vault, 
 
 Shall ne'er make me uneasy. 
 While living, love but me alone, 
 But, pretty Sylvia, when I'm gone 
 
 Then hang me if it please ye. 
 
 From the Menagiana. B. 
 
 It may, however, well be questioned whether a true 
 affection through life is consistent with an indifference 
 to the survival of that affection after death ; and perhaps 
 no feeling is more universal than that which inspires a 
 secret wish that the partner of our joys and cares may 
 never bestow on another the same degree or species of 
 attachment which we have been accustomed to consider 
 as our own exclusive right. 
 
 I cannot cite this instance of tenderness in the Ephe- 
 sian matron without adding two other examples of con- 
 jugal affection and obedience, the one in a wife on the 
 point of becoming a widow, the other in a widow, who, 
 there is very little reason for doubting, soon after became 
 a wife : 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 208 
 
 " Le Boucher moribond" 
 
 The dying Butcher. 
 
 A butcher, parting from this life, 
 Thus counseled his distracted wife : 
 u My dear, if I should really go, 
 Since in our trade, full well you know, 
 
 A man must- certainly be had, 
 Our prentice Jack, if so inclined, 
 Could do your business to your mind, 
 
 A handy, hardy, sober lad, 
 Willing and able to go thro' it; 
 
 Him marry, 'twere the safer side." 
 u Ah me !" the weeping rib replied, 
 " I then was thinking, Love, to do it." B. 
 
 It is related of a certain widow, who had loved her 
 husband with the utmost affection, that, on receiving a 
 visit of consolation from one of the best friends of the 
 deceased, she was discovered in the afternoon of the day 
 after his death, engaged in the game of battledoor and 
 shuttlecock, with a young gentleman, whose object was 
 likewise to allay the acuteness of her first grief. — " I am 
 most agreeably surprised," said the second consoler, on 
 coming into the room, " to see that you have so far re- 
 covered your spirits, Madam, after so severe a loss." 
 " Ah sir," said the interesting mourner, " you should 
 have seen me in the morning." The tender Epigram 
 
204 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 which follows, seems to have owed its origin to this 
 anecdote : — 
 
 Poor Alix bad her eyes rain o'er 
 The day her husband was no more. 
 A reverend man, as was his function^ 
 Come to bind up the recent wound 
 With a discourse, grave, pithy, and profound, 
 
 And full of onction. 
 " Heaven wills it — calm yourself — he's dead — 
 Tears cannot bring him back," he said, 
 
 (C Nor all your wailing break his sleep." 
 " Ah !" she replied, u but what would say 
 The world, if, widow'd but to-day, 
 
 I did not weep?" JB. 
 
 " Who hut for death would find repose" p. 183. 
 
 I have, in a former note, suggested a comparison be- 
 tween * Homer and Mimnermus, in two very celebrated 
 passages of these poets. The distinction I have there 
 remarked between true sublimity and that point and 
 accuracy which is the characteristic of the genuine Epi- 
 gram is more strikingly exemplified in contrasting the 
 verses I then quoted with the following lines of JEsop : 
 
 Tloog rig ctvev Soimtov ere <pvyoi Bis ; pvpict yap crov 
 Avypa, xou ovts (pyysiv evpapes ovte fepeiv : 
 where the point consists in the antithesis, which 
 Homer's mighty genius evidently despises. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 205 
 
 It was a remark of Mrs. Montagu's (which I copy 
 from the Correspondance litte>aire de M. Grimm, &c. 
 Tom. iii. p. 216.) that the young poets of the French 
 Academy felt very feebly " le beau simple de l'antique. 
 Le peu de traits auxquels on applaudit sont precisement 
 ceux qui s'eloignent le plus de la verite - de l'original. 
 
 Homere n'aurait jamais eu l'esprit de dire qu'Hector, 
 en couvrant son fils de baisers et de larmes, 
 
 Le berca mollement de ses robustes bras, 
 
 Qu' a des emplois si doux Mars ne destinait pas." 
 
 " All human things are subject to decay" p. 185. 
 
 The recommendation of indulgence in pleasure and 
 festivity, from a view of the shortness and uncertainty of 
 life, is so common to this poem, with all the poetry, and 
 even philosophy, of antiquity, that there is no need of 
 enlarging upon it in this place. Martial carries it so far, 
 that even the contemplation of one of the most affecting 
 emblems of mortality presents to his imagination only a 
 voluptuous incitement. His Epigram on the Mausoleum 
 of Augustus, notwithstanding this tendency, has in it a 
 mixture of melancholy sufficient to render it very attrac- 
 tive : 
 
 Fill high the bowl with sparkling wine i 
 
 Cool the bright draught with summer-snow 1 
 
 Amidst my locks let odours flow ! 
 Around my temples roses twine ! 
 
206 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 See yon proud emblem of decay, 
 Yon lordly pile that braves tbe sky ! 
 
 It bids us live our little day, 
 
 Teaching ihat gods themselves may die. M. 
 
 The shortness of life,' the " brittleness of youth," the 
 swift approach of age, are ail topics on which the ancient 
 poets, more especially those of the earliest times, delight to 
 indulge the melancholy of their imaginations. Perhaps 
 the most beautiful, among the many thousands of verses 
 which these gloomy ideas have produced, are by a poet, 
 who appears of all others, the least likely to have composed 
 them, and in a place where, ot all others we should least 
 expect to find them — by Juvenal, in the most offensive 
 of all his Satires. Yet, seldom as that author has deserved 
 the appellation of poetical, in this very composition he 
 suddenly bursts into a strain of tenderness certainly not 
 surpassed by Mimnermus, Theognis, or Simonides : 
 
 " Swift down the pathway of declining years, 
 As on we journey through this vale of tears, 
 Youth wastes away, and withers like a flower, 
 The lovely phantom of a fleeting hour ; 
 Mid' the light sallies of the mantling soul, 
 The smiles of beauty, and the social bowl, 
 Inaudible, the foot of chilly age 
 Steals on our joys, and drives us from the stage." 
 Hodgson's Juvenal, Sat. 7« 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c, 207 
 
 " Ah me ! alike o'er youth and age I sigh" p. 186. 
 
 " In ancient days," (I am again quoting from the 
 Commentators on Hebrew poetry,) u in ancient days, 
 and in the first beginnings of society, the mode of in- 
 structing through the medium of moral sentences, was 
 very general. Science was, at its birth, rude and inarti- 
 ficial, not distributed into parts, nor reduced to any certain 
 rule or measure. They who excelled others in knowledge 
 and practice, compressed the fruit of their experience 
 into axioms and concise precepts adapted to the imme- 
 diate use of their less accomplished neighbours. Among 
 uncultivated men, precept has more weight than argu- 
 ment ; compulsion is stronger than persuasion. But it 
 soon became their object to soften the austerity of their 
 injunctions by the ornaments of language ; they reduced 
 their edicts into short, forcible, and harmonious sentences; 
 illustrated them by figures, images, comparisons ; dis- 
 tinguished them by force of description and elegance of 
 style." 
 
 It is easy to discover how closely these observations 
 apply to the early poets of Greece, whose Tvwpui or 
 * Moral Sentences" are partially preserved in some of 
 the different Anthologies. Those of Theognis, some exam- 
 ples of which are here given, are simple precepts of reli- 
 gion, morality, or philosophy, written metrically to assist 
 the memory. The greatest part of what remains to us of 
 
208 I L LUST RATIONS. 
 
 his composition is strikingly beautiful in the original, 
 notwithstanding its extreme simplicity. Athenaeus ac- 
 cuses the poet of being a voluptuary ; and Suidas tells 
 us that a book of his entitled " Exhortations " abounded 
 with impurities. This is by no means the case with any 
 of his fragments now in existence. 
 
 " Could Wealth with sorrow unalloyed be mine ." p. 188. 
 
 Next to positive enjoyment, hope and expectation 
 constitute the principal pleasures of existence ; and men 
 have little reason to thank the philosophy which would 
 restrain them from the luxury of wishing and castle- 
 building. To pass a life entirely free frpm those pains and 
 penalties to which ei flesh is heir," may appear a desire 
 no less exorbitant in itself than improbable in its accom- 
 plishment ; yet the philosophical Theognis thought that 
 it argued no want of modesty in him to express it. 
 
 While we are wishing, indeed, where is the absurdity 
 of carrying our desires as far as our imaginations will 
 extend ? The folly of being too moderate on such an 
 occasion has been taught us all, even in our childhood, 
 by the well known fable of the three wishes. My friend 
 Mr. Hodgson lately published a little philosophical 
 poem, which may serve equally as an antidote to the 
 unreasonable restrictions imposed by his favourite poet 
 Juvenal, on the objects of prayer, and by way of 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 209 
 
 foundation for the requests of those, who, with the strict- 
 est sense of decorum, are wisely unwilling to lose any- 
 thing for want of asking. It has occurred to me, how- 
 ever, that his Manual is far from being complete, since 
 it does not nearly comprehend all the legitimate objects 
 of human expectation. He will, on that account, pardon 
 me the seeming arrogance with which I have ventured 
 to introduce, in this place, an enlarged, if not an im- 
 proved, edition of his valuable text, 
 
 MODERATE WISHES. 
 
 Let Alexander's discontented s'oul 
 Pine for another world's increased control ; 
 111 weaved ambition has no charms for me, 
 Nor, sordid avarice, am I slave to thee. 
 
 I only ask twelve thousand pounds a year, 
 And Curwen's country seat on Windermere. 
 A mistress, kind, and sensible, and fair, 
 And many a friend, and not a single care. 
 
 I am no glutton — no — I never wish 
 A sturgeon floating in a golden dish ; 
 At the Piazza satisfied to pay 
 Two guineas for my dinner every day. 
 What though famed Erskine # at the bar we view 
 As learn'd as Crassus, and as wealthy too, 
 
 * From this, and other allusions in the Poem, it will be seen 
 that it was composed seyeral years ago. It would have been easy 
 
 P 
 
210 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I only ask the eloquence of Fox, 
 
 To paint like Reynolds, and like Belcher box, 
 
 To act as Garriek did, — or any how 
 
 Unlike the heroes of the buskin now; 
 
 To range like Garnerin through fields of air, 
 
 To win, like Villiers, England's richest fair, 
 
 To vault, like Astley, o'er a horse's back, 
 
 To fight like Nelson, and to run like Mack, 
 
 Like Pinto fiddle, and with Newton's eye 
 
 Pierce through the stars, and count the galaxy; 
 
 With Jonas conjure, light as Vestris bound, 
 
 Grin broad as Colman, though as Locke profound. 
 
 Let heirs unblushing pray for boundless lands, 
 And streams that ripple clear o'er golden sands. 
 
 I only ask, that all my heart's desire 
 
 Come with a wish, and leave me ere it tire, 
 
 All arts, all excellence, myself to hold, 
 
 Learn'd without labour, without danger bold. 
 
 I only ask, these blessings to enjoy, 
 
 And every various talent well employ ; 
 
 Thy life, Methusalem, or, if not thine, 
 
 An immortality of love and wine. 
 
 Fate heard the wish, — and smiling gave me clear, 
 
 Besides a wooden leg, twelve pounds a year. 
 
 to modernize them : but the main object of its republicatio* 
 being the moral lesson which it conveys, this was judged unne- 
 cessary. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 211 
 
 This unlucky termination obtruded itself, somewhat 
 mal-a-propos, as the probable, rather than the desirable 
 result of expectations so well founded. Modest and unas- 
 suming as are those expectations, what remains for me in 
 this place, but to indulge the reasonable hope that all the 
 blessings here invoked, and as many more as can possibly 
 be imagined, may alight both on the author and the 
 improver of the poem. Far, very far from both, be its 
 " lame and impotent conclusion" ! 
 
 After all that has been said on this chapter of wishes, 
 the remark of Le Brun is but too true, that 
 
 Content with nought, and all requiring, 
 Man hurries on with heedless haste, 
 
 To keen enjoyment from desiring,. 
 
 And from enjoyment to distaste, B. 
 
 '* If any virtue my rude songs can claim, 3 " p. 188. 
 
 It is possible that the opening of this idyll suggested 
 to Milton the following lines of Lycidas : 
 
 " Alas ! what boots it, with incessant care 
 To ply the homely slighted shepherd's trade, 
 And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? 
 Is it not better done, as others use, 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
 Or with the tangles of Necera's hair ?" 
 
212 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 However this may be, a more noble answer cannot be 
 given to the slavish complaints of Bion, than in the 
 verses which immediately follow. They are the natural 
 suggestions of a passion so inherent in human nature, as 
 to be almost universal, and which yet, perhaps, was 
 hardly ever felt without inspiring the hope, and the 
 belief of a futurity : 
 u Fame is the spur which the clear spirit doth raise, 
 
 To scorn delights, and live laborious days." 
 
 I have prescribed no bounds to my wanderings in the 
 course of these " Illustrations, 5 * and shall here take 
 advantage of the liberty which I allow myself, to intro- 
 duce a few original stanzas, which, if the reader chooses 
 to connect them with the preceding remark, he may call 
 a summary of the incitements to virtuous action, which 
 the pride of human nature, independent of the precepts 
 of religion, may be supposed capable of affording. 
 
 ENERGY. 
 
 Life is not made to flow in smooth delight, 
 
 Or to be lost in unavailing sorrow ; 
 It is a chequer'd scene of black and white ; 
 
 The cloud scarce form'd to-day, may burst to-morrow. 
 
 It is for action given, for mental force, 
 
 For deeds of energetic hardihood ; 
 There is no time for wailing and remorse, 
 
 There is no room for selfish solitude. 
 
MORAL, ELEGIAC, &c. 213 
 
 There is no day doth pass, but teems with fate, 
 
 No fleeting hour, but alteration brings. 
 O'er this our perishable mortal state, 
 
 Variety for ever waves her wings. 
 
 Then let not mortal 'man of change complain, 
 Of change, that rules this sublunary sphere, 
 
 Nor waste, in fond regret and listless pain, 
 The hours assign'd to generous action here. 
 
 The dreams of lawless youth, perhaps, are fled, 
 The glass brisk circling, and the jovial song; 
 
 The careless heart, the wild fantastic head, 
 That to the early burst of life belong, 
 
 No more are ours — Perhaps, with these, have flown 
 Some cherish'd pleasures yet more closely twined, 
 
 That Hope, delusive, fondly call'd our own, 
 And Fate, unpitying, claims to be resign *d. 
 
 Are Youth's wild fancies check'd ? Ambition glows 
 
 With fiercer heat in our maturer age ; 
 Honour remains, the foe to dull repose, 
 
 And points a hard, but glorious pilgrimage. ^ M. 
 
MORAL. 
 
 EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM THE DRAMATIC POETS. 
 
MORAL. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE DRAMATIC 
 POETS. 
 
 Menander. 1. 
 REPROOF OF DISCONTENT. B. 
 
 Hadst only thou, of all mankind, been born 
 To walk in paths untroubled with a thorn, 
 From the first hour that gave thee vital air 
 Consign'd to pleasure, and exempt from care. 
 Heedless to wile away the day and night 
 In one unbroken banquet of delight, 
 Pamper each ruling sense, secure from ill, 
 And own no law superior to thy will ; 
 If partial Heav'n had ever sworn to give 
 This happy right as thy prerogative, 
 Then blame the Gods, and call thy life the worst, 
 Thyself of all mankind the most accurst ! 
 
218 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 But if with us the common air you draw, 
 
 Subject alike, to Nature's general law, 
 
 And on thy head an equal portion fall 
 
 Of life's afflicting weight imposed on all, 
 
 Take courage from necessity, and try 
 
 Boldly to meet the foe thou canst not fly. 
 
 Thou art a man, like others doom'd to feel 
 
 The quick descent of Fortune's giddy wheel ; 
 
 Weak human race ! We strive to soar from sight 
 
 With wings unfitted to the daring flight ; 
 
 Restless each fleeting object to obtain, 
 
 We lose in minutes what in years we gain: 
 
 But why should'st thou, my honour'd friend, repine ? 
 
 No grief peculiar or unknown is thine ! 
 
 Tho' Fortune smile no more as once she smiled, 
 
 Nor pour her gifts on thee, her favourite child, 
 
 Patient and firm, the present ill redress, 
 
 Nor, by despairing, make thy little less. 
 
 Menander, 2< 
 AN EARLY DEATH TO BE DESIRED. M. 
 
 Most bles-t, my friend, is he 
 
 Who having once beheld this glorious frame 
 Of Nature, treads again the path he came. 
 The common sun, the clouds, the starry train, 
 The elemental fire, and watery main, 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 219 
 
 If for a hundred years they glad our sight, 
 
 Or but a moment ere they fade in night, 
 
 ,r Tis all the same — we never shall survey 
 
 Scenes half so woud'rous fair and blest as they. 
 
 Beyond 'tis all an empty, giddy show, 
 
 Noise, tumult, strife, extravagance, and woe ; 
 
 He who can first retire departs the best, 
 
 His reckoning paid, he sinks unharm'd to rest : 
 
 But him who stays, fatigue and sorrows wait, 
 
 Old age, and penury's unhappy state ; 
 
 By the world's tempests toss'd, a prey he lies 
 
 To open force and ambush'd enemies, 
 
 Till his long-suffering frame and lingering breath 
 
 He yields at last to agonizing death. 
 
 Menander. 3. 
 
 MAN, THE MOST MISERABLE OF CREATED 
 THINGS. M. 
 
 The meanest animals that creep the earth 
 Are far more blest than those of mortal birth. 
 Vain man the boast of reason must resign : 
 That valued boast, laborious Ass ! be thine. 
 Wretched by fate, thy lot doth Heaven bestow, 
 But never wert thou to thyself a foe. 
 But we, whenever Jove in pity spares, 
 Forge for ourselves unnecessary cares. 
 
220 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 Our coward souls start at an empty dream ; 
 
 We shrink and tremble when the night birds scream 
 
 The soul's contentions, mad ambition's strains, 
 
 Opinions dogmas, law's inglorious chains, 
 
 Are but the modes our fertile minds create, 
 
 To add new pangs to every sting of fate. 
 
 Menander. 4. 
 
 THE USE OF RICHES. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Abundance is a blessing to ttie wise ; 
 The use of riches in discretion lies; 
 Learn this, ye men of wealth ! A heavy purse 
 In a fool's pocket is a heavy curse. 
 
 Philemon. I. 
 ON TEARS. B. 
 
 If tears could med'cine human ills, and give 
 The heart o'ercharged a sweet restorative, 
 Gold, jewels, splendour, all we reckon dear, 
 Were mean and worthless to a single tear. 
 But ah ! nor treasures bribe, nor raining eyes, 
 Our firm inexorable destinies : 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 221 
 
 Weep we or not, as sun succeeds to sun, 
 In the same course our fates unpitying run. 
 Tears yet are ours whene'er misfortunes press, 
 And tho* our weeping fails to give redress, 
 Long as their fruits the changing seasons bring, 
 Those bitter drops will flow from sorrow's spring. 
 
 Philemon. 2. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Extremes of fortune are true wisdom's test; 
 And he's of men most wise, who bears them best. 
 
 Antiphanes. 1. 
 THE RE-UNION OF DEPARTED FRIENDS. M. 
 
 When those whom love and blood endear 
 Lie cold upon the funeral bier, 
 How fruitless are our tears of woe, 
 How vain the grief that bids them flow ! 
 Those friends lamented are not dead, 
 Tho* dark to us the road they tread ; 
 All soon must follow to the shore, 
 Where they have only gone before. 
 Shine but to-morrow's sun, and we, 
 Compell'd by equal destiny, 
 Shall in one common home embrace,, 
 Where they have first prepared our place. 
 
222 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 Antiphanes. 2. M. 
 Man never willingly embraced his fate ; 
 
 But oft' reluctant in life's golden hours 
 Is downward dragg'd by Charon's gloomy hate 
 
 From his glad banquets and his roseate bowers. 
 
 Antiphanes. 3. 
 OLD AGE. M. 
 
 Yes, — 'tis the greatest evil man can know, 
 The keenest sorrow in this world of woe, 
 The heaviest impost laid on human breath, 
 Which all must pay, or yield the forfeit, Death. 
 For Death all wretches pray ; but when the prayer 
 Is heard, and he steps forth to ease their care, 
 Gods ! how they tremble at his aspect rude, 
 And, loathing, turn. Such man's ingratitude, 
 And none so fondly cling to life, as he 
 Who hath outlived all life's felicity. 
 
 Anaxandrides. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Ye gods ! how easily the good man bears 
 His cumbrous honours of encreasing years 
 Age, oh my father, is not, as they say, 
 A load of evils heap'd on mortal clay, 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 233 
 
 Unless impatient folly aids the curse, 
 
 And weak lamenting makes our sorrows worse. 
 
 He, whose soft soul, whose temper ever even, 
 
 Whose habits, placid as a cloudless heaven, 
 
 Approve the partial blessings of the sky, 
 
 Smooths the rough road, and walks untroubled by; 
 
 Untimely wrinkles furrow not his brow, 
 
 And graceful wave his locks of reverend snow. 
 
 Moschion. 1, 
 THE EXILE. M. 
 
 The proudest once, in glory, mind, and race, 
 
 The first of monarchs, of mankind the grace, 
 
 Now wandering, outcast, desolate, and poor, 
 
 A wretched exile on a foreign shore, 
 
 With miserable aspect bending low, 
 
 Holds in his trembling hand the suppliant bough : 
 
 Unhappy proof, how false the flattering light 
 
 Which Fortune's blazing torch holds forth to sight ! 
 
 Now, not the meanest stranger passing by, 
 
 But greets the grovelling despot with a sigh, 
 
 Perhaps with gentle accents soothes his woe, 
 
 And lets the kindly tear of pity flow ; 
 
 For where's the heart so harden'd and so rude, 
 
 As not to melt at life's vicissitude I 
 
224 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 Astydamas. M. 
 
 Joy follow thee; if joy can reach the dead, 
 And, or my mind misgives, it surely will ; 
 
 For when the miseries of life are fled, 
 How sweet the deep forgetfulness of ill ! 
 
 Euphorion. 
 ON TEARS. M. 
 
 Be temperate in grief ! I would not hide 
 The starting tear-drop with a Stoic's pride ; 
 I would not bid the o'erburthen'd heart be still, 
 And outrage Nature with contempt of ill. 
 Weep, but not loudly ! he, whose stony eyes 
 Ne'er melt in tears, is hated by the skies. 
 
 Clearchus. 
 ON DRUNKENNESS. M. 
 
 Could every drunkard, ere he sits to dine, 
 Feel in his head the dizzy fumes of wine, 
 No more would Bacchus chain the willing soul, 
 But loathing horror shun the poison'd bowl. 
 — But frantic joy foreruns the pains of fate, 
 And real good we cannot calculate. 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 225 
 
 Eubulus. 
 
 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Three cups of wine a prudent man may take ; 
 The first of these, for constitution's sake ; 
 The second, to the girl he loves the best ; 
 The third and last, to lull him to his rest ; 
 Then home to bed 1 — but if a fourth he pours, 
 That is the cup of folly, and not ours ; 
 Loud noisy talking on the fifth attends ; 
 The sixth breeds feuds and falling out of friends ; 
 Seven beget blows, and faces stain'd with gore ; 
 Eight — and the watch-patrole breaks ope the door; 
 Mad with the ninth, another cup goes round, 
 And the swhTd sot drops senseless to the ground. 
 
 Diodorus. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 When your foe dies, let all resentment cease, 
 
 Make peace with death, and death shall give you peace. 
 
226 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 Theophilus. ' 
 
 ON LOVE. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 If love be folly, as the schools would prove, 
 The man must lose his wits who falls in love : 
 Deny him love, you doom the wretch to death, 
 And then it follows he must lose his breath. 
 Good sooth ! there is a young and dainty maid 
 I dearly love ; a minstrel she by trade ; 
 What then ? must I defer to pedant rule, 
 And own that love transforms me to a fool ? 
 Not I, so help me ! by the gods I swear, 
 The nymph I love is fairest of the fair ; 
 Wise, witty, dearer to her poet's sight, 
 Than piles of money on an author's night : 
 Must I not love her then ? let the dull sot, 
 Who made the law, obey it ! I will not. 
 
 Crates. 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 These shrivelled sinews and this bending frame, 
 The workmanship of time's strong hand proclaim ; 
 Skill'd to reverse whate'er the gods create, 
 And make that crooked which they fashion straight 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 227 
 
 Hard choice for man, to die — or else to be 
 That tottering, wretched, wrinkled thing you see. 
 Age .then we all prefer ; for age we pray, 
 And travel on to life's last ling'ring day ; 
 Then sinking slowly down from worse to worse, 
 Find heaven's extorted boon our greatest curse- 
 
 Pherecrates. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Age is the heaviest burthen man can bear, 
 Compound of disappointment, pain and care - y 
 For when the mind's experience comes at length, 
 It comes to mourn the body's loss of strength, 
 Resign'd to ignorance all our better days, 
 Knowledge just ripens when the man decays : 
 One ray of light the closing eye receives, 
 And wisdom only takes what folly leaves. 
 
 An uncertain Author, 
 ON FRIENDSHIP. M. 
 
 How sweet is life, when pass'd with those 
 Whom our own hearts approving chose ; 
 When on some few surrounding friends 
 Our all of happiness depends ! 
 
229 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 It is not life, to drag, alone, 
 
 A miserable being on, 
 
 Without one kindred soul to share 
 
 Our pleasure, or relieve our care : 
 
 But welcome falls the stroke of Fate, 
 
 That frees us from so sad a state. 
 
 Another. 
 AGAINST MELANCHOLY. M. 
 
 Hence, Melancholy, soul-subduing source 
 Of woes unnumber'd in our mortal course ! 
 Oft gloomy madness seizes on thy slave, 
 And pale diseases crowd him to the grave ; 
 Diseases, that admit no cure nor stay, 
 But eat with silent tooth our souls away. 
 Thy wretched victim oft, in manhood's pride, 
 Cuts short the bloom of life by suicide, 
 When Hope has fled affrighted from thy face 
 And giant Sorrow fills the empty space. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MORAL, DRAMATIC. 
 
 u Hadst only thou, of all mankind, been born" p. 217. 
 
 Society in misfortune, (let us not scruple to confess it,) 
 is its greatest alleviation. The world wears a holiday 
 face ; but to smile, and be happy, are widely different. 
 But why should I take out of the hands of Metastasio, 
 what nobody else can express so well ? 
 
 " Se a ciascun Y interno affanno 
 Si leggesse in fronte scritto, 
 Quanti mai che invidia fanno, 
 Ci farebbero piet& ! 
 
 Si vedria che i lor nemici 
 
 Hanno in seno, e si riduce 
 Nel parere a noi felici 
 
 Ogni lor felicitst/* 
 
230 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Oh, could we read on every brow 
 The inward grief in silence bred, 
 
 How many whom we envy now 
 
 Would claim our pity while we read ! 
 
 Then would appear what hidden foes 
 Are lodged in every human breast, 
 
 That all our smiles but mask our woes, 
 That all our bliss is seeming blest. B. 
 
 " The meanest animals that creep the earth" p. 219. 
 
 Cornelius Agrippa, in his discourse of the Vanitie of 
 Sciences, dedicates one whole chapter to a digression in 
 praise of the ass, a beast, he says, " whose influence 
 dependeth on Sephiroth, which is called Hochma, that 
 is to say, Wisedome." It is very edifying, as Bayle ob- 
 serves, to put mankind to shame by comparing their 
 conduct to that of the brutes : " C'est un des plus beaux 
 lieux communs de la morale, que de faire voir a l'homme 
 ses desordres, en comparant sa conduite deregl^e avec la 
 regularite des b&tes." But then, unfortunately, it is so 
 easy to turn the tables on philosophical declaimers of 
 this sort ! The Empress Barbara of Cilley (who plays a 
 considerable part in the interesting romance of Herman 
 of Unna,) was one who u ne croioit ni Paradis ni Enfer, 
 et se moquoit des religieuses qui renoncent aux plaisirs 
 de la vie, et qui mortifient leurs corps." Her first hus- 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 231 
 
 band being dead, sbe very soon began to tbink of taking 
 to berself a second ; when some of the sage moralists 
 above alluded to represented to her the example of ther 
 turtle, which remains a widow all its life after the loss of 
 its mate, (e Sivousavez," repondit-elle, u a me proposer 
 l'exemple des betes, proposez moi celui des pigeons et 
 des rnoineaux." Bayle, Art. Barbe. 
 
 " Abundance is a blessing to the wise. 9 ' p. 220. 
 
 There are a few Greek Epigrams illustrative of the 
 passion of avarice that do not seem to me worthy of 
 translation — let me substitute one or two from the French, 
 which may make amends for this omission. 
 
 Epitaph on a Miser. 
 
 Here lies a miser, who, beside 
 Ten hundred other niggard shifts, 
 On new-year's eve expressly died 
 For fear of making new-year's gifts. B. 
 
 Advice to a Miser how to keep venison sweet. 
 
 This morning I received some game, 
 But, in this monstrous heat, 
 I know not where to keep the same.— 
 Of all thine house I recommend 
 The kitchen, as a spot, my friend, 
 
 Most cold, and fittest far, to keep it sweet. B, 
 
 m 
 
232 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Next to the desire of amassing, is the dislike to parting 
 with, money. 
 
 The Debtor. 
 
 My debtor Paul looks pale and harass'd ; 
 Thinks he on means to pay his bill ? 
 Oh no — he only is embarrass'd 
 For means to be my debtor still. B. 
 
 <e If tears could med'cine human ills. 39 p. 220. 
 
 Compare this and the succeeding fragment with those 
 beautiful lines in the fifteenth Satire of Juvenal : 
 
 (e Nature, who fills with tears the pitying eye, 
 Confesses her own gift of sympathy. 
 That gentle gift, mankind's exclusive boast, 
 Makes him the happiest, who enjoys it most." 
 
 Hodgson. 
 
 On these verses of Philemon depends a curious literary 
 anecdote. Scaliger, with all his profundity of critical 
 judgment, was credulous to a degree that made him a 
 fair butt for imposture. At the age of eighteen, he piqued 
 himself on his faculty of distinguishing the characteristic 
 styles of writers of every age, Muretus brought him, one 
 day, some verses which he' pretended to have received 
 fr om Germany, as copied from an ancient manuscript. 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 233 
 
 Scaliger, having examined them, gave his opinion that 
 they were the composition of Quintus Trabea, the comic 
 poet whom Cicero quotes in his Tusculan Disputations. 
 Not satisfied with this imprudent declaration, he even 
 published them as Trabea's, in the first edition of his 
 Commentary on Varro. Shortly after this, Muretus shewed 
 him some other verses, to which he affixed the name of 
 Accius, and pronounced them to be a most impudent 
 plagiarism from Trabea. Scaliger was again taken in, 
 and, in the next edition of his work, published those 
 verses also by the side of the former. Muretus only 
 laughed in his sleeve, and said nothing at that time, but 
 two years afterwards, published a volume of his own 
 poems, and, among them, both copies of verses which he 
 had thus palmed upon Scaliger for undoubted antiques, 
 together with a provoking note, in which the whole his- 
 tory of his imposture was fully stated, concluding thus ; 
 " Nemo repertus est qui non ea pro veteribus acceperit. 
 Unus etiam, et eruditione et judicio acerrimo praeditus, 
 repertus est, qui ea a me accepta pro veteribus publicaret. 
 Ne quis igitur amplius fallatur," &c. &c. Stung to the 
 quick, Scaliger revenged himself by a most biting Epi- 
 gram upon his deceiver. 
 
 Many further particulars of this curious transaction are 
 related by Bayle (Art. Trabea), who has also cited both 
 the pretended verses of Trabea, and the pretended theft 
 of Accius. Both are elegant versions of the fragment of 
 Philemon, which occasioned this note j and so excellent 
 
234 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 are they, as imitations of the old comic writers, that it is 
 scarcely possible to wonder at the success of the imposture. 
 
 Trabea 
 
 a Here, si querelis, ejulatu, fletibus, 
 Medicina fieret miseriis mortalium, 
 Auro parandse lacrumae contra forent. 
 Nunc hsec ad minuenda mala non magis valent, 
 Quam nsenia prseficse ad excitandos mortuos. 
 Res turbidae consilium, non Actum expetunt." 
 
 pectus. 
 
 w Nam, si lamentis allevaretur dolor, 
 Longoque fletu minueretur miseria, 
 Tarn turpe lacrumis indulgere non foret, 
 Tractaque voce divum obtestari fidem, 
 Tabifica donee pectore excesset lues. 
 Nunc hae neque hilum de dolore detrahunt, 
 Potiusque cumulum miseriis adjiciunt mali, 
 Et indecoram mentis mollitiam arguunt." 
 
 (i The proudest once in glory, mind, and race" p. 223. 
 
 Of Moschion, who is supposed to have been one of 
 the earliest comic poets of Greece, nothing is known 
 except the names of two of his plays. One of these is 
 " Themistocles," and it seems not improbable that this 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 235 
 
 fragment, preserved by Stobaeus, may refer to the exile 
 of that great man, when a suppliant at the court of Ad- 
 metus.— " To see what solitariness is about dying princes ! 
 As heretofore they have unpeopled towns, divorced 
 friends, and made great houses inhospitable, so now — - 
 (oh justice !)— -where are their flatterers now ? Flatterers 
 are but the shadows of princes' bodies. The least thick 
 cloud makes them invisible !" Webster's Wliite Devil. 
 
 u When those whom love and blood endear" p. 222 m 
 
 Every joy that passes from us, every friend who dies 
 before us, must be considered as a new dissolution of 
 some hold that attached us to life. — By such losses we 
 become reconciled to lose it. What is dear to us might 
 have remained with our duration/and have gone with us 
 at the same moment : 
 
 " But heaven, that calls us from the world away, 
 Wills that our joy should last but for a day ; 
 And lest on things below we fix our eyes, 
 Charm 'd with existence, and forget the skies, 
 Freedom from ill is happiness at best, 
 And e'en the very summit is but rest. 
 For riot in youth we pluck a thornless rose, 
 And all our after way is dark with woes : 
 A bosom husband, parent, child, and friend, 
 Before our summons to the grave descend, 
 
336 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 That, sadly robb'd on every coming year 
 Of something loved_, that chain' d our wishes here, 
 Life- weary grown, we loath our dark sojourn, 
 And wish to follow whence is no return. B. 
 
 Four Slaves of Cythera, Canto 9. 
 
 In the Asiatic Researches is a translation of an Indian 
 grant of land which was made about A. D. 1018. So 
 strongly did the warmth of their poetical imaginations 
 incorporate itself with every production of the Oriental 
 writers, that, even in this simple legal transaction, we 
 meet with a string of moral sentiments clothed in elevated 
 metaphorical language, and worthy of being compared 
 with the melancholy complaints of Menander or the 
 philosophical strains of Simonides and Theognis. I will 
 here present a few of these sentences rendered into 
 English verse, in order to illustrate the comparison I 
 have made : 
 
 Unthinking youth, life's first impetuous stage, 
 Too oft provokes the swift approach of age, 
 Woos to his arms the tyrant of his race, 
 And dies, empoison'd by the foul embrace. 
 This frame of man three unrelenting foes 
 Besiege with sure variety of woes. 
 Death and old-age their blasting force unite 
 Against the peasant's toil and monarch's might 
 The third, ordain'd by hostile powers above, 
 Is separation from the friends we love. 
 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 237 
 
 That pang strikes deepest in the human heart, 
 That bitter anguish when we say " We part." 
 The moment when our lips pronounce u Farewell," 
 Is as the fall from upper heaven to hell. 
 
 The life of man, and all his glittering joys, 
 Are the most frail of Nature's frailest toys ; 
 Like rain-drops, trembling on the leafy spray, 
 The gale scarce breathes, and scatters them away. M. 
 
 While I am on this subject of comparison between 
 the Oriental and Grecian systems of poetical morality, 
 I cannot avoid referring to my former observations on 
 Mimnermus, in order to illustrate the voluptuous precepts 
 of that peculiar sect of philosophy by a sublime passage 
 in the Book of the Wisdom of Solomon, which seems in 
 a most direct manner levelled against the Asiatic pro- 
 fessors of similar doctrines. 
 
 Thus said the Heathen, reasoning but in vain— 
 
 u Man's life is short ; but lengthen'd out by pain \ 
 
 In death no remedy, no comfort, lies, 
 
 And from the grave we never more shall rise. 
 
 Born to all chance, on all adventures driven, 
 
 The sport of Fortune or capricious Heaven, 
 
 We pass away and are no longer seen, 
 
 And leave no record that we once have been. 
 
 Our breath is smoke \ our heart's warm pulse a spark, 
 
 Soon kindled, soon extinct — then all is dark ; 
 
238 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Consumed to ashes our weak house of clay, 
 Our spirit vanish'd like soft air away 5 
 Our name erased from Time's uncertain page ; 
 Our works unnoticed by the rising age. 
 We die, alas ! and leave no trace behind, 
 Like airy vapours driv'n before the wind, • 
 Like mists that gather at the close of night, 
 Soon scatter'd by the day's increasing light. - 
 And when this vision is dissolved at last, 
 This empty, trifling, fleeting, shadow past, 
 A seal is fix'd upon the funeral urn, 
 And fate itself prohibits our return. 
 
 Come, then, enjoy the hours that yet are thine, 
 Give thy full soul to perfumes, baths, and wine, 
 Let youth enhance the moments as they fly, 
 And let no flower of painted Spring pass by ! . 
 With early rosebuds crown thy festive head, 
 Ere yet their full-blown leaves are torn and shed ; 
 Omit no untried joy, no new delight, 
 The jovial day, the soft voluptuous night ; 
 Leave, thro' the world, the signs of parted bliss — 
 This is our portion, and our lot is this." M 
 
 This is enough for the illustration of the subject 
 before us ; but we must not forget to notice what follows. 
 With a wonderful mixture of force and ingenuity, the 
 sacred poet proceeds (still in the character, though no 
 
MORAL, DRAMATIC. 239 
 
 longer in the language, of the heathen) to the conse- 
 quential doctrines of this sect of voluptuaries, to those 
 secondary precepts which are not expressed, but are 
 necessarily implied, in their false and selfish philosophy. 
 
 " Let us oppress the poor righteous man ; let. us not 
 spare the widow, nor reverence the gray hairs of the aged; 
 let our strength be the law of Justice," &c.'&c. 
 
 To this succeeds a sudden turn of language, in the 
 highest degree noble, solemn, and impressive. 
 
 " Such things they did imagine, and were deceived 
 — For God created man to be immortal, and made him 
 to be an image of his own eternity — The souls of the 
 righteous are in the hands of God — In the sight of the 
 unwise they seemed to die, and their departure is taken 
 for misery, and their going from us to be utter destruction 
 — But they are in peace. 
 
 <e For, though they be punished in the sight of men, 
 yet is their hope full of immortality." 
 
Notwithstanding the success with which Potter's faith- 
 ful and animated translations of the great fathers of the 
 Grecian Drama, have deservedly been attended, it has 
 always appeared to me, that the true spirit of their 
 poetry might be more nearly attained, by adopting the 
 sonorous and majestic co\iplet, which Dryden wished 
 to introduce on the English stage, in imitation of Cor- 
 neille and Racine ; and which, however unsuitable to 
 the purpose of representing violent and sudden emotions, 
 is peculiarly well adapted as the vehicle both of decla- 
 matory passion, and of pathetic sweetness. 
 
 The few detached scenes and single speeches which I 
 have at different times amused myself by translating 
 under this impression, will both afford a more accurate 
 explanation of my meaning, and in some measure tend 
 either to establish or controvert my doctrine. Their 
 general affinity in point of style and subject with those 
 of the preceding division will, I hope, be a sufficient 
 apology for their intrusion in this place. I have added to 
 the rest, two or three specimens of the Grecian Chorus ; 
 of which the last, namely, that from the Clouds of 
 Aristophanes, has been communicated to me by a friend, 
 who wishes to avoid any comparison with the translation 
 of the same piece by Cumberland, except on the ground 
 of greater closeness to the original. 
 
EXTRACTS FROM THE GRECIAN 
 DRAMA. 
 
 From the Mce$tis of Euripides, 
 THE FAREWELL OF ADMETUS TO ALCESTIS. B. 
 
 I grant thee all — distrust not, gentl-e wife- 
 Dead thou art mine, thou only, as in life ! 
 No bride of all Thessalia's blooming race 
 Shall call me husband second in thy place, 
 Not tho' she mate thy high nobility, 
 Nor yield in angel loveliness to thee. 
 Enough of children ; guard them, Heaven, I pray ! 
 For her ye only lent, and tore away. 
 Not for a year, but while my pulses beat, 
 In this poor heart while memory holds a seat, 
 So long I'll mourn thee on this hateful earth, 
 Curse my grey sire, and her who gave me birth, 
 Who fear'd to die, tho' bow'd by grief and time, 
 But sent thee drest in smiles, and in thy prime, 
 Torn from the joys of youth and nuptial bed, 
 A ransom for thy lord, to join the dead. 
 
 Farewell to revel and the festive throng, 
 To wanton garlands, dance, and social song, 
 Henceforth to me, sweet instruments, be mute ! 
 The harp's wild raptures, and the JLydian flute, 
 R 
 
242 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 All that was pleasure once, my thoughts resign, 
 For all my joys are buried in thy shrine. 
 
 I'll have thee moulded as in life, and bear 
 To my lone couch thy image sadly dear ; 
 Fall on the semblance, clasp it in my arms, 
 Name it from thee, and circling fancied charms, 
 Gaze on the fair deceit, nor e'er forsake 
 The death-cold statue, till it seems to wake. 
 Poor comfort ! but in trifles light as these 
 My aching heart shall idly ask for ease. 
 Yet in the dead still hour of night arise, 
 When troubled phantoms flit before my eyes ! 
 Thou shalt not fright me, but my senses close 
 In dreams of gentleness and lost repose. 
 Oh, had I voice and power of song to melt 
 The prince of night, who once for Orpheus felt, 
 Pleased would I journey o'er these dreary coasts, 
 And bear thee, dearest, from the land of ghosts ; 
 Ne'er should I tremble at that fearful way, 
 But wake thy eyes to smile upon the day. 
 Vain, idle thoughts ! In those sad realms await 
 Thy husband's coming when released by fate ; 
 One common mansion for our shades prepare, 
 That our rent loves may join eternal there : 
 And when I die, to friendship I entrust 
 In one small urn to mix our kindred dust ; 
 For as we loved on earth, the grave shall be 
 Dearer than life in thy society." 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 24S 
 
 From the same, 
 ADDRESS OF THE CHORUS TO ALCESTIS. M, 
 
 Daughter of Pelias ! peaceful sleep 
 In Pluto's mansions cold and deep, 
 
 Where the bright sun can enter never ! 
 And may the gloomy monarch know, 
 And he, the steersman old and slow, 
 By whom the ghosts are wafted o'er ; 
 To that uncomfortable shore, 
 
 No spirit half so lovely ever, 
 Nor half so pure, his boat did take 
 On the dark bosom of the Stygian lake. 
 
 Thy name preserved in sweetest lays, 
 
 The sacred bards of future days 
 
 The seven-string'd lyre shall tune to thee, 
 
 Waking its mountain-melody ; 
 
 Or in harmonious notes shall sing, 
 
 What time the rosy-bosom'd spring 
 
 Bedews with April-showers 
 Fair Sparta's walls, and, all the night, 
 The full moon pours her silver light 
 
 On Athens' heav'n-loved towers. 
 
244 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Oh ! could the power of verse recall 
 Thy ghost from Pluto's dreary hall, 
 
 And dark Coeytus' spectred wave ! 
 Oh ! could it bid thy spirit stray 
 Back to the cheerful light of day, 
 
 And break the darkness of the grave 1 
 
 Most-loved, most honour'd shade, farewell ! 
 We know not what the Gods below 
 Will measure out of bliss or woe ; 
 Yet may thy gentle spirit dwell, 
 In those dark realms to which it fled, 
 Most blest among the peaceful dead ! 
 
 Nor thou, afflicted husband, mourn 
 That voyage whence is no return, 
 
 And which we all are doom'd to try : 
 The Gods' great offspring, battle-slain, 
 'Mid common heroes press the plain, 
 
 And undistinguish'd die. 
 
 But she who nobly died, to save 
 
 A husband from the cheerless grave, 
 
 Though seen no more by mortal eye, 
 
 Shines, a bright power, above the sky. 
 
 Hail, lovely light of Pherae's vale ! 
 
 Blest guardian of the wand'ring stranger, hail ! 
 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 245 
 
 From the Electra of Sophocles. 
 
 ELECTRA TAKING THE URN OF ORESTES. B. 
 
 Mournful remembrancer, whose orb contains 
 
 Whate'er of dear Orestes now remains, 
 
 How dead my hopes in thee, but lately sent 
 
 A blooming boy to happy banishment ; 
 
 For now I bear whatever lived of thee 
 
 In this small record of mortality ! 
 
 Oh had I died, before to foreign lands 
 
 I sent thee, rescued from the murderer's hands ! 
 
 Then had we shared one melancholy doom, 
 
 And peaceful slumber'd in thy father's tomb. 
 
 Afar from home beneath another sky 
 
 Thou diest — and ah ! no sister then was nigh 
 
 To bathe thy corse, and from the greedy fire 
 
 Collect thy ashes, as the dead require ; 
 
 But strangers paid the debt ; who now return 
 
 Thy cherish'd dust within this little urn. 
 
 And have I watch'd thine infancy in vain 
 
 With lengthen'd hope, and love that sweeten' d pain ? 
 
 Shielded thine innocence from dangers rude 
 
 With more than parents' fond solicitude ? 
 
 Ta'en thee from menial hands, myself thy slave, 
 
 And rear'd thee, brother— only for the grave ? 
 
246 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Now barren all my hopeful cares are made, 
 Lost with thy life, unfruitful as thy shade. 
 Oh thou hast gone, and like the whirlwind's force 
 Swept all away together in thy course. 
 Dead is my sire, and I, who lived alone 
 In thee, no longer live since thou art gone. 
 Our foes exult ; our mother, wild with joy, 
 (Alas, no mother) hails her lifeless boy ; 
 For whom I waited as my sorrow's friend, 
 Avenger of his father's timeless end, 
 But now instead, o'er this sad urn I weep, 
 Where his poor ashes cold and silent sleep. 
 
 Oh piteous corse ! oh brother, sent to tread, 
 Before this wretch, the regions of the dead ! 
 How hast thou left me to my foes a prey, 
 How has thy funeral swept my hopes away ? 
 Yet take me, gentle brother ! give me room 
 To rest beside thee in this narrow tomb ! 
 That, as we shared affliction when alive, 
 Our boundless love may in the shades survive, 
 While our dust slumbers, mix'd by friendly fate, 
 Dull and unconscious of a mother's hate. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 247 
 
 From the Philoctetes of Sophocles. 
 
 PHILOCTETES ROBBED OF HIS BOW. B. 
 
 Destroyer of my life, thou flinty heart, 
 Thou damned compound of each fraudful art, 
 How hast thou wrong'd me, and with fix'd disdain 
 Repulsed my prayer, and gloried in my pain ! 
 Yet hear me, son ! Oh, gentle stranger, give 
 To my weak hands the arms by which I live. 
 Alas ! he heeds me not— -nor aught returns, 
 But from his feet a kneeling suppliant spurns. " 
 Oh harbours, promontories, rocks, that show 
 Your lengthen'd shadows o'er the flood below, 
 And herds of mountain beasts ! to you alone 
 I call, for man attends not to my moan. 
 Oh wilds accustomed to my voice ! to you 
 I tell the baseness of this traitor crew 5 
 Who, for the home I love, would bear me far, 
 Infirm and sickening, to the fields of war, 
 Forced by this stripling, who shall boast ere long 
 He fought the valiant, and disarm'd the strong, 
 In me the remnant of a man, a ghost 
 That haunts unlaid this solitary coast. 
 How had I once the hellish deed withstood 
 In my green age, and proud in youthful blood ! 
 Since at my very feebleness dismay'd, 
 The plunderer stripp'd me first by wiles betray'd. 
 
248 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Where shall I turn ? — to pity, youth, incline ! 
 
 The voice of nature, pleading still with mine, 
 
 Condemns the theft. Art silent to my pray'r } 
 
 Then am I lost, and sentenced to despair. 
 
 Oh, my poor cell ! beneath thy covert grant 
 
 A death-bed to thine old inhabitant, 
 
 Condemn'd to starve unfriended and alone, 
 
 Since with my bow my hopes of life are gone. 
 
 Ne'er shall my arrow pierce the bird or beast, 
 
 Ne'er shall this hand prepare the lonely feast ; 
 
 But, mangled by the wolves that howl around 
 
 My pinching cave, these limbs shall strew the ground, 
 
 Thy deeds are cruel : yet I fain would trace 
 
 A nobleness of virtue in thy face ; 
 
 Be happy, if thy nature prompts to save ! 
 
 If stern, my curse pursue thee to the grave. 
 
 From the Medea of Euripides. 
 MEDEA TO HER CHILDREN. B. 
 
 Oh children, children of your mother 'reft ! 
 One home is yours, one country yet is left, 
 Where ye shall ever dwell, while I remain 
 A sleepless wanderer o'er this world of pain. 
 Before I saw you flourish by my side, 
 And in your glory felt a parent's pride j 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 249 
 
 Before I saw you blest in love's delights, 
 
 And bore the torches at your nuptial rites. 
 
 Ah me ! in vain a mother's throes I knew, 
 
 In vain a lovely offspring round me grew. 
 
 Yes — I had hopes your duty might assuage 
 
 My future sorrows and the weight of age, 
 
 That filial hands (oh, envied fate,) might close 
 
 My eyelids sunk in death, my limbs compose. 
 
 Farewell, sweet tendance ! from my children torn, 
 
 This dreary sojourn upon earth I mourn. 
 
 To splendid slavery raised you ne'er shall see 
 
 Your parent weak in years and poverty. 
 
 Ah me ! those looks why hither will ye cast ? 
 
 Why smile ye thus ? — a smile that is your last ! 
 
 Alas ! I fail — my boasted courage dies, 
 
 Subdued and melted by my children's eyes 5 
 
 I cannot do the deed — my thoughts relent^— 
 
 Come rather, partners of my banishment ! 
 
 To work you harm would break your father's rest ; 
 
 That harm would stab like death your mother's breast. 
 
 I turn to pity, and relent in tears; 
 
 — But oh ! what ills await my future years ! 
 
 And unrevenged shall I endure them all ? 
 
 Shall those who hate me triumph in my fall ? 
 
 Unsex me, vengeance ! and my soul forsake 
 
 Ye natural thoughts, that all the mother wake ! 
 
 Go, boys, within — if there some stranger rest, 
 
 Who fears to look upon a deed unblest, 
 
250 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Let him away — Yet oh ! my hand forbear ! 
 
 Unhappy wretch, thy smiling offspring spare ! 
 
 Spare them to shield thee in thy feeble age, 
 
 And tend thy steps thro* life's lone pilgrimage ! 
 No ! by the powers of night, they were not born 
 
 To bear the oppressor's wrong, the tyrant's scorn ; 
 
 Death claims my darling sons ; and she who gave 
 
 A being, now devotes them to the grave. 
 And hark ! my rival shrieks in agonies, 
 
 Drest in my spell-wrought gifts, and now she dies ! 
 
 Poor queen ! thou diest — the same sad dreary road 
 
 Must by my children and myself be trod. 
 
 Come, blooming boys, and to your mother give 
 
 Your litle hands ; caress her while ye live ! 
 
 Oh dearest hand ! oh dearest form and face ! 
 
 And mien, that speaks you of a noble race ! 
 
 Be happy ! — but below. — Your sire denies 
 
 All happiness beneath these upper skies. 
 
 Oh sweet embrace ! soft bosoms ! fragrant breath 
 
 That warms your hearts, how soon to ebb in death ! 
 
 Away, away ! — your look, your fond caress 
 
 Melts me to all a mother's tenderness ; 
 
 Until T brood upon my life accurst, 
 
 Then stern and pitiless I dare the worst ; 
 
 My softer nature vengeance puts to shame, 
 
 And Furies guide my dagger to its aim. 
 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 251 
 
 From the same. 
 
 A CHORUS. 
 
 * 
 
 Translated by Johnson. 
 
 The rites derived from ancient days 
 
 With thoughtless reverence we praise, 
 
 The rites that taught us to combine 
 
 The joys of music and of wine ; 
 
 That bad the feast, the song, the bowl, 
 
 O'erfill the saturated soul, 
 
 But ne'er the lute nor lyre applied 
 
 To soothe despair or soften pride, 
 
 Nor call'd them to the gloomy cells 
 
 Where Madness raves and Vengeance swells, 
 
 Where Hate sits musing to betray, 
 
 And Murder meditates his prey. 
 
 To dens of guilt and shades of care 
 
 Ye sons of melody repair, 
 
 Nor deign the festive hour to cloy 
 
 With superfluity of joy ! 
 
 Ah, little needs the minstrel's power 
 
 To speed the light convivial hour; 
 
 The board with varied plenty crown 'd 
 
 May spare the luxury of sound. 
 
252 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 From the Ajax of Sophocles. 
 
 TECMESSA TO AJAX, DISSUADING HIM FROM 
 PUTTING AN END TO HIS LIFE. B. 
 
 Oh, my, loved lord ! in vain we strive to force 
 
 The will of Fortune, and arrest her course. 
 
 I too Was free ; a little season bow'd 
 
 My head, and mix'd me with the menial crowd. 
 
 The daughter of a prince, by thee subdued, 
 
 I changed my titled rank for servitude. 
 
 But yet I boast, as worthy of my line, 
 
 A noble heart; and all that heart is thine ! 
 
 Oh ! then I pray thee by the Powers above, 
 
 By every past endearment of our love, 
 
 Forsake me not to live a life of pain, 
 
 And unrevenged drag the galling chain : 
 
 For that sad day, when thou shalt cease to be, 
 
 Beholds me led in base captivity, 
 
 By some stern lord dishonour'd and reviled, 
 
 To eat the bread of slavery with thy child. 
 
 Then shall some foe exclaim, with bitter hate, 
 
 Wounding a heart deserted by its mate, 
 
 " Our champion is no more ; behold his bride 
 
 Sunk to a servant from her former pride !" 
 
 Such foul abuse when thou, my prince, art gone, 
 
 Awaits thy consort and unfriended son. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 253 
 
 Relent, in pity to thy father's years ! 
 
 Be merciful, and spare thy mother's tears, 
 
 Who waits to greet her child with anxious eyes, 
 
 And listen to his voice before she dies ! 
 
 But most of all, this infant boy to save, 
 
 Blot out thy fatal longing for the grave, 
 
 Whom ruin waits upon the world's wide stage, 
 
 Beneath some mean betrayer of his age ! 
 
 These are the blessings, noble chieftain, left 
 
 To him, to me, of thy protection 'reft. 
 
 Where shall I turn ? where seek a friend's redress ? 
 
 Where fly from foes, and shield my feebleness ? 
 
 I have no country now ; my mother bled 
 
 Beneath thy sword, my sire is with the dead ; 
 
 Thou only dost remain ; and oh ! I see 
 
 Friends, parents, riches, country, all, in thee. 
 
 Live! I command thee, live, and bring to mind 
 
 All that for thee a loving wife resign'd ; 
 
 All that for thee I have endured recall, 
 
 And only live, and thou repay'st me all ! 
 
254 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 From the same. 
 AJAX TO TECMESSA. B. 
 
 Time steals unheard away, and brings to light 
 
 Things dark, and hides whate'er was known in night, 
 
 All things may be — a future day shall break 
 
 Our sacred oaths, and make the strongest weak. 
 
 I, who but late had steel'd my heart, am bent 
 
 E'en by this woman's voice, and now relent 
 
 In pity to my child, and gentle bride, 
 
 Here left to insult, and my rival's pride. 
 
 But now I hasten to the steepy shore, 
 
 To cleanse these tell-tale hands, and then implore 
 
 The power that stirs me thus 'gainst human kind, 
 
 To calm with reason my disorder'd mind; 
 
 And in some spot from public haunt remote 
 
 Bury this sword, where never eye shall note, 
 
 Deep in the ground; and may the powers of night 
 
 Keep it for ever hid from mortal sight ! 
 
 And be that day accursed in my life 
 
 When this dire token of eternal strife 
 
 Came from the hand of him I hated most, 
 
 And brought dishonour on cur Grecian host ! 
 
 Well had 1 never worn it ; for the wise 
 
 Suspect a bane in gifts from enemies : 
 
 Rest, rest my heart ! submit, thou princely soul, 
 
 To heaven's high will, and mightier man's control ! 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 255 
 
 Bow to the chiefs who hold superior sway ! 
 
 Attend their sovereign mandate, and obey ! 
 
 As things, that shew the most unbending, force 
 
 Their stubborn wills, and yield to nature's course. 
 
 For see how churlish winter quits his reign 
 
 When summer comes, and clothes the fruitful plain ; 
 
 How the black circle of the sullen night 
 
 Flies the grey freshness of Aurora's light ; 
 
 How the loud storm that lately swell'd the deep, 
 
 Quell'd by a softer breath, is hush'd to sleep ; 
 
 How all-subduing slumber flies at last, 
 
 Bursting the chains that held our senses fast : 
 
 Man, only man, yet stubborn and untaught, 
 
 Breaks nature's laws, and sets her power at nought. 
 
 In youth (e'er yet my wayward fits began, 
 
 Ere yet by heav'n deserted and by man,) 
 
 If any friend had play'd the torturer's part, 
 
 I raged, but soon restored him to my heart ; 
 
 Yet so restored him 3 that his changing will 
 
 Should lose the opportunity of ill j 
 
 For even in strictest friendship we shall find 
 
 A faithless haven from a world unkind. 
 
 But wherefore talk I thus ? within thy tent* 
 
 Haste, my Tecmessa, pray that heaven relent ! 
 
 Its aid for blessings on my head implore, 
 
 To clear my mind, and wandering sense restore ! 
 
 And you, the comrades of my dangers, tend 
 
 This gentle lady, mindful of your friend ; 
 
256 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 And tell my brother, since I haste alone, 
 In quest of calmness, to a place unknown, 
 To love whom best I loved, (a brother's part,) 
 And wear my image ever in his heart ! 
 And so farewell ! my woes will shortly cease, 
 And ye shall hear that all with me is peace. 
 
 From the Hecuba of Euripides. 
 
 CASSANDRA, INFURIATE AT HER MARRIAGE 
 WITH AGAMEMNON, TO HECUBA. B. 
 
 Crown me with garlands, mother ; and with pride 
 Greet thy loved child, become a royal bride ! 
 And if she loiter on this joyous night, 
 Fill her with longings for the nuptial rite ! 
 E'en now I wait impatient to be led, 
 Worse than a Fury, to my husband's bed ; 
 In his own blood to quench his lawless fire, 
 And thus avenge my brothers and my sire. 
 But hush ! my soul, let mystic night conceal, 
 When on his neck shall fall the avenging steel ; 
 The son, slain mother, murders, foul disgrace, 
 That from this marriage light on all the race. 
 Fall'n is my native land, her sons no more- 
 Yet e'en these tumbling towers, this ravaged shore, 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 257 
 
 Shall (or misguided pbrenzy fires my brains) 
 
 Bloom like a garden to their Grecian plains ; 
 
 For this reward (one traitress foul to save) 
 
 They peopled tombs with myriads young and brave : 
 
 For this exchanging all domestic ties, 
 
 The sweets of friendship for stern enmities, 
 
 O'er wintry seas their frantic leader came, 
 
 To bear one female back, her country's shame. 
 
 Peace was their own — by wild ambition led, 
 
 War they preferr'd, and hither sail'd and bled. 
 
 No children smiled beneath these hostile skies, 
 
 No wife assuaged their dying agonies, 
 
 Or veil'd each warrior corse ; but wide around 
 
 Their dead lie festering o'er the unhappy ground. 
 
 Nor happier are their homes : their widow'd wives 
 Sleep in their tombs, and scarce a son survives, • 
 Who shall return, of all the martial line, 
 To pour libations on bis father's shrine : 
 These are the triumphs of that mighty host, 
 Who scatter'd havoc, and appal I'd our coast -, 
 Their deeds of black impurity to speak 
 Would freeze thy soul, and flush thy modest cheek. 
 
 More envied in their fate, our warrior band 
 Bled for the freedom of their native land, 
 Borne to their homes, and by their kindred dear 
 Graced with due honours, and the decent bier 3 
 Wept by their brides, and by their country blest, 
 Beneath the land that gave them birth they rest ; 
 S 
 
258 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 While some from fight return' d to peaceful joys, 
 To wives who loved them, and their smiling boys. 
 
 Oh, mighty Hector ! happy was thy state, 
 Loved in thy life, and glorious in thy fate, 
 Who, had our foes ne'er braved the ocean tide, 
 Hadst lived unhonour'd, undistinguish'd died : 
 Great was my brother Paris, doom'd to die, 
 Ennobled, for a proud adultery. 
 Dreadful is war ! but when the danger falls, 
 The brave man courts it on his country's walls ; 
 Then weep not, mother, for thy captive child, 
 Torn hence to loath'd endearments and defiled ; 
 This night my husband learns how near allied 
 Are death and marriage, from his hostile bride. 
 
 ******** Herald, lead the way !— 
 Thou vaunting leader, to the marriage cheer 
 Join mournful rituals, and prepare thy bier 
 For thine own burial ! See the wintry wave 
 Dashes my body near my husband's grave : 
 Naked, and thrown to savage beasts, I lie, 
 Whom heaven has loved, and bless'd with prophecy. 
 Prophetic garlands, symbols of the power 
 Whom I have served until this fatal hour, 
 Be gone ! — your spotless honours to ensure, 
 I tear ye thus from limbs no longer pure. 
 Lead me to climb the royal bark — the gales 
 Shall at my potent bidding fill your sails ; 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 259 
 
 For o'er your ship a Fury's self presides. 
 Whose breath shall blow to rage the sleeping tides. 
 My native land, and thou who gavest me birth, 
 Farewell ! my brothers, father, low in earth, 
 Soon will ye greet me, when this hand has shed, 
 The blood of those who laid ye with the dead. 
 
 From the Andromache of Euripides. 
 ANDROMACHE. M. 
 
 To have been never born, oh mother ! ne'er 
 
 Tasted the freshness of this upper air, 
 
 Is but the same with death— to die ! to be 
 
 A cypher blotted from mortality — 
 
 Death is far better than a life of pain, 
 
 Who feel not, grieve not, and our fears are vain, 
 
 Oh, rather for the living let them flow, 
 
 Those wretched victims of perpetual woe, 
 
 Who still, in bitterness of soul, possess 
 
 The memory of departed happiness. 
 
 — My sister is at peace — the cheerful light 
 
 No longer breaks upon her beamless night. 
 
 The sense of present wants and woes to come 
 
 Alike lie buried in the silent tomb. 
 
 But I — (in mockery of my alter'd life, 
 
 Who yet remember I was Hector's wife) 
 
260 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 I, the blest partner of connubial joy, 
 
 The pride and envy of the dames of Troy, 
 
 How can I stoop to slavery's abject lot ? 
 
 And how, my former glorious state forgot, 
 
 Submit to please a victor's wild desires, 
 
 And light on Hector's tomb unhallow'd fires ? 
 
 Her I abhor, whose lawless lust can seek 
 
 (Without a blush on her dishonest cheek) 
 
 A second partner to her widow'd bed, 
 
 When the fond husband of her youth lies dead. 
 
 Oh Hector ! I am only thine— to thee 
 
 I paid the vow of maiden constancy ; 
 
 To thee my pure, unspotted soul resign' d, 
 
 The wisest, noblest, bravest of mankind. 
 
 Now thou hast left me — and I must not have 
 
 The last poor comfort that the wretched crave. 
 
 I cannot sorrow o'er thy urn, but go 
 
 A friendless captive to a tyrant foe, 
 
 Where no glad home my weeping eyes shall see, 
 
 And hope, that comes to all, shall fly from me. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 261 
 
 From the Same. 
 CHORUS. D. 
 
 To lofty Ilion when the Spartan dame 
 
 Was led, all blooming, by her shepherd boy, 
 Majestic to the princely couch she came, 
 
 No consort, but a curse to him and Troy. 
 For her, oh Troy ! against thy menaced town 
 
 Greece brought her thousand ships, her fire and sword, 
 Her rapid vengeance mow'd thy bulwarks down, 
 
 And slew thy best defence, my dear loved lord. 
 Yes—round those walls the savage conqueror bore, 
 . Bound to his car, the body of the brave : 
 Torn from my bride-bed to a hostile shore, 
 
 I live to feel what 'tis to be a slave. 
 While round the awful form the Goddess rears, 
 
 Driven by hard threats, my suppliant arms are thrown, 
 I melt, dissolving in perpetual tears, 
 
 Like drops, that tremble from a roof of stone. 
 
 From the CEdipus Coloneus of Sophocles. 
 (EDIPUS LED BY HIS DAUGHTER ANTIGONE. B. 
 
 GEDIPtfS. 
 
 Tell me, sweet daughter, whither are we come ? 
 What land, what city, promises a home ? 
 
262 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Who shall befriend thy father, old and blind, 
 Accurst of heav'n, forsaken of mankind ? 
 Who asks not much (for nature's wants are few), 
 But cruel men deny him nature's due : 
 Dull age subdues, and lengthen'd miseries cure 
 The pride of man, and teach him to endure. — 
 Yet turn thee, gentle daughter, look around 
 O'er all the public road, and holy ground, 
 And ask, if any native there should stray, 
 His kindly aid and guidance on our way. 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Unhappy sire, yon goodly ramparts frown 
 The brave defence of some far-famed town ; 
 These moss-grown trunks, the vine and laurel shade, 
 And olive boughs by sweet birds vocal made, 
 Bespeak some hallow'd spot — here, father, rest 
 Thy limbs, by journeying and old age oppress'd 5 
 Recline thee yet awhile on this rude stone, 
 Or ere we enter on the path unknown. — 
 But hither comes a stranger, who shall tell 
 What powers within this grove of mystery dwell.— 
 Say, gentle stranger, on what ground we tread ! 
 What city yonder lifts its towering head ? 
 
 STRANGER. 
 
 First leave, unhappy both, that fearful seat 5 
 Accursed they who pierce yon lone retreat, 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 263 
 
 •Untrod, unvisited by man — for deep 
 Within its gloom the dreadful Sisters keep 
 Their sad abode, nor mortals dare intrude 
 With foot profane upon their solitude. 
 
 (EDIPUS. 
 
 Oh stern and venerable Sisters, aid 
 
 A wretch by heaven conducted to your shade ! 
 
 For after many years, and countless woes, 
 
 Then was I promised to. enjoy repose, 
 
 Whene'er to some far distant spot I came, 
 
 Sacred to Powers whom mortals fear to name. 
 
 " There," said a voice prophetic, " thou shalt have 
 
 " A quiet -consummation in the grave ; 
 
 <e Curs'd are thine enemies, for ever blest 
 
 " The land, where thou shalt sink unharm'd to rest 
 
 " Then earth shall tremble, thunders shall attend, 
 
 i( And lightnings glare, the signal of thy end." 
 
 Led to this grave by no false augury, 
 
 I seek repose, and know my hour is nigh ; 
 
 For never had I enter'd on this wild, 
 
 Where reign the Sisters stern and undefiled, 
 
 Nor, uninstructed by some cause, had thrown 
 
 My limbs upon this rude and shapeless stone — 
 
 'Tis Heaven directs — ye Deities severe 
 
 Grant me to end my days, my sufferings, here ! 
 
 Unless ye nurse the little that remains 
 
 Of this poor fainting strength for future pains. 
 
264 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Daughters of night, who haunt this sacred ground, 
 And noble Athens, famed the world around, 
 Pity this man, and grant him where to die, 
 Worn to a shadow by harsh misery ! 
 
 From the Iphigenia in Aulis of Euripides. 
 IPHIGENIA TO AGAMEMNON. 
 
 Had I the voice of Orpheus, that my song 
 
 The unbending strength of rocks might lead along, 
 
 Melt the rude soul, and make the stubborn bow, 
 
 That voice might Heaven inspire to aid me now. 
 
 But now, ungifted as I am, untaught 
 
 To pour the plaint of sorrow as I ought, 
 
 Tears, the last refuge of the suppliant's prayer, 
 
 Tears yet are mine, and those I need not spare. 
 
 Father, to thee I bow, and low on earth 
 
 Clasp the dear knees of him who gave me birth — 
 
 Have mercy on my youth ! Oh> think how sweet 
 
 To view the light, and glow with vital heat ! 
 
 Let me not quit this chearful scene, to brave 
 
 The dark uncertain horrors of the grave ! 
 
 I was the first on whom you fondly smiled, 
 And, straining to your bosom, call'd, " My child !" 
 Canst thou forget how on thy neck I hung, 
 And lisp'd " My father !" with an infant tongue } 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 265 
 
 How, 'midst the interchange of holy bliss, 
 
 The child's caresses and the parent's kiss, 
 
 " And shall I see my daughter," wouldst thou say, 
 
 ei Blooming in charms among the fair and gay ? 
 
 Of some illustrious youth the worthy bride, 
 
 The beauty of his palace and the pride ?" 
 
 " Perhaps," I answer'd with a playful air, 
 
 te And dares my father hope admittance there, 
 
 Or think his prosperous child will e'er repay 
 
 His cares, and wipe the tears of age away ?" 
 
 Then, round that dearest neck I clung, which yet 
 
 I bathe in tears '-I never can forget : 
 
 t— But thou remember'st not how then I smiled — 
 'Tis vanish'd all — and thou wilt slay thy child. 
 Oh, slay me not ! respect a mother's throes, 
 And spare her age unutterable woes 1 
 Oh, slay me not !— or — if it be decreed — 
 (Great God avert it !) if thy child must bleed, 
 At least, look on her, kiss her, let her have 
 Some record of her father in the grave ! 
 Oh come, my brother ! join with me in prayer ! 
 Lift up thy little hands, and bid him spare ! 
 Thou wouldst not lose thy sister ! e'en in thee, 
 Poor child, exists some sense of misery — 
 — Look, father, look ! his silence pleads for me. 
 We both entreat thee — I, with virgin fears, 
 He, with the eloquence of infant tears. 
 
266 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 Oh, what a dreadful thought it is, to die ! 
 To leave the freshness of this upper sky, 
 For the cold horrors of the funeral rite, 
 The land of ghosts, and everlasting night ! 
 Oh, slay me not ! the weariest life that pain, 
 The fever of disgrace, the lengthen'd chain 
 Of slavery, can impose on mortal breath, 
 Is real bliss " to what we fear of death." 
 
 From the Clouds of Aristophanes. 
 INVOCATION OF SOCRATES. N. 
 
 Oh, sovereign Lord, immeasurable air, 
 
 Circling the pendent globe ! oh, holy light ! 
 And ye dread maids, that heaven's loud thunder bear, 
 
 Arise ye clouds, and burst upon my sight ! 
 Come, sister goddesses, come, awful Powers 
 
 That on Olympus' snow-clad brow recline, 
 Or in old father Ocean's secret bowers, 
 
 With sea-born nymphs the mystic dance combine, 
 Or fill your golden urns from distant Nile, 
 
 Or on Mseotis' placid breast repose, 
 Oh ! hear my prayer, upon your suppliant smile, 
 
 And to my gaze your heavenly forms disclose ! 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 267 
 
 CHORUS. 
 Appear, immortal Clouds appear ! 
 
 Light shadows haste away ! 
 From father Ocean's echoing tide, 
 And groves that shade the mountain side, 
 Our watch-towers high that far and wide, 
 
 The outstretched globe survey, 
 The fruits and fields that drink the dew, 
 And fountains gushing to the view, 
 And the wild waste of waters blue 
 
 That break upon the ear. 
 Throw your dark showery mantles by, 
 
 Your sacred forms unfold, 
 And now while Heaven's unwearied eye 
 In mid-day lustre flames on high, 
 
 The subject world behold ! 
 
 AOTISTROPHE. 
 
 See, virgin rulers of the storm, 
 
 'Tis Pallas' holy ground, 
 Fair region of the brave and wise ; 
 Behold the mystic domes arise, 
 Where many a secret sacrifice 
 
 And nameless rites abound ; 
 And glittering altars crowd the plains, 
 And statues and high towering fanes, 
 And priests with chaplet-bearing trains, 
 
 Their solemn vows perform. 
 
268 EXTRACTS, &c. 
 
 Each hour the wonted feast requires, 
 
 And with returning spring, 
 For Bacchus breathe the living lyres, 
 And dance, and sweet-contending choirs, 
 
 Salute trie festive king. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE GRECIAN 
 DRAMA. 
 
 " Admetus to Alcestis" — " Chorus" p. 241 — 3. 
 
 Admetus, a prince of Thessaly, was married to Alcestis, 
 of whom he was passionately enamoured. Their happiness 
 was interrupted by the declining health of Admetus, who 
 was fast approaching to the grave. The infernal Powers, 
 however, grant him a reprieve, on condition of finding a 
 substitute, who would, by a voluntary death, pay the 
 price of his recovery. After the refusal of his aged parents, 
 who are unfeelingly represented to have outlived the sense 
 of those pleasures, which among barbarous nations can 
 alone make life acceptable, his wife Alcestis prepares to 
 devote herself, that the husband might survive to be the 
 protector of their children. To reconcile the seeming 
 cowardice of Admetus with the noble affection displayed 
 for his wife, and the generosity of his disposition, we 
 must suppose him forbidden by the Fates from preventing 
 the sacrifice of his wife by his own devotion. 
 
 A parting scene of the most exquisite tenderness ensues. 
 
270 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Alcestis exhorts her husband to live, and be guardian of 
 their offspring ; but requests him to bear her in his me- 
 mory, and never to surrender that place in his heart to 
 another, which was once her's alone. He promises never 
 to forget her, to pass his days in mourning for her loss, 
 and to devote the remnant of his life to the contemplation 
 of her virtues and her last act of heroic affection. 
 
 The Chorus laments the death of this affectionate and 
 unhappy wife in two dirges, which I have reduced to one, 
 by extracting those thoughts which are most expressive of 
 the gloomy and solemn occasion. 
 
 " Electra holding the urn of Orestes" p. 245, 
 
 During the absence of Agamemnon, iEgysthus was 
 left regent of his country,, and protector of his wife and 
 children. Faithless to his trust, he intrigues with Cly- 
 taemnestra; she revolts from her allegiance to her hus- 
 band, whom she murders on his return, marries iEgy- 
 sthus, and admits him as partner of her throne. 
 
 To secure their ill-gotten power, they are bent on the 
 murder of Orestes, heir to the crown, who would have 
 fallen a sacrifice in his infancy, but for the affection of 
 his sister Electra, who rescues him from death by pri- 
 vately sending him to Phocis, under the guardianship of 
 a trusty friend. 
 
 Meanwhile she hears frequent accounts of him, and 
 cherishes a hope that when he has arrived at manhood he 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 2/1 
 
 will return home and be the avenger of his father's mur- 
 der. After the lapse of twenty years he arrives for that 
 purpose, in company with his protector. 
 
 To lull Clytaemnestra into a fatal security, his compa- 
 nion relates to her that Orestes has been killed in a 
 chariot-race. A meeting between the brother and sister 
 takes place, without any remembrance on either side. 
 Orestes, mistaking Electra for one of the domestics, and 
 desirous to keep his arrival secret' until the hour for 
 vengeance should arrive, carries on the delusion by pro- 
 ducing an urn in. which his ashes are supposed to rest. 
 
 Electra believing him to be really dead, takes the urn 
 in despair, and discovers herself in this passionate and 
 beautiful address. There is no incident in ancient or 
 modern tragedy more affecting in itself, or more heigh- 
 tened by the delicate and chaste colouring of the poet. 
 
 ec Philoctetes robbed of his bow." p. 247. 
 
 Philoctetes being rendered unfit for the toils of war- 
 fare by infirmity, was landed by his comrades on a wild 
 and uninhabited island. His home was a cavern, and 
 his food was procured by his bow and arrows. 
 
 A superstition was attached to these arms, that the 
 Greeks would be unsuccessful in their warfare until they 
 were procured from their possessor. Neoptolemus sails 
 to the island where Philoctetes lived solitary, and en- 
 feebled by a lingering malady. The exile is transported 
 
272 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 with joy at the sight of human beings, and at the offer 
 made by them of restoring him to his country. Neopto- 
 lemus having surprised him when asleep, gets posses- 
 sion of the fatal quiver. Philoctetes, bursting from his 
 slumber, discovers the treachery of his pretended friend, 
 upbraids him for cruelty, and conjures him to restore 
 those arms, without which he must either perish from 
 hunger, or fall a prey to the wild beasts of the place. 
 
 Despair has not frequently found a painter who could 
 pourtray it. The picture of Philoctetes is finished. But 
 I scruple not to place beside it two sketches by Meta- 
 stasio, which leave nothing to be added. The first, de- 
 scribes that unhappy man who seems to be set apart by 
 his misfortunes, as by a deadly contagion, from all the 
 regard, from all the society, from all the notice of his 
 fellow creatures ; whose endeavours to save himself are 
 ail abortive, whose very virtues are against him. 
 
 " Vo soleando un mar crudele 
 
 Senza vele, 
 
 E senza sarte; 
 Freme Fonda, il ciel s' imbruna, 
 Cresce il vento, e manca 1' arte ; 
 E il voler della Fortuna 
 
 Son costretto a seguitar. 
 • Infelice ! in questo stato 
 Son da tutti abbandonato : 
 Meco sola e T innocenza 
 
 Che mi porta a naufragar." Artaserse. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 273 
 
 A vast and cruel sea I plough, 
 Without or cordage true, or sails ; 
 The surges roll, the winds resound, 
 The heaven above me is embrownM, 
 Rocks threat beneath — my steerage fails, 
 Deaf ears are turn'd to every vow, 
 And Fortune's will impells me now. 
 
 All, all I loved and cherish'd most 
 In this my hour of need are gone ; 
 With me is innocence alone, 
 
 That bears me onward to be lost. B. 
 
 The second piece, is from the second act of Adriano. — 
 The first wildness has yielded to a state of settled hope- 
 lessness. Many wish for death, but few meet it from 
 grief ; were it otherwise, the world would be a desert— 
 
 " E falso il dir, che uccida, 
 Se dura, un gran dolore, 
 E che, se non si muore, 
 Sia facile a soffrir. 
 Questa, ch' io provo, e pena, 
 Che avanza 
 Ogni costanza : 
 Che il viver m' avvilena, 
 Ma non mi fa morir." 
 
 Metastasio. Adrian. Att. ii. 
 
274 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 'Tis idly said, that mighty woe 
 
 Kills, where it lingers, from despair ; 
 That he who can survive the blow 
 
 With ease, may steel his mind to bear. , 
 
 For, oh ! I suffer in a strife 
 
 That far exceeds my constancy, 
 Against a pain that poisons life, 
 
 But yet refuses me to die. B. 
 
 Let it be remembered by those who inconsiderately 
 revile Italian songs, that these two finished and energetic 
 pieces are of that class. If examined with candour, the 
 Italian song has as great an ascendancy over that of all 
 other nations in thought and expression, as in the in- 
 comparable and heavenly strains by which the Cimarosas 
 and Paesiellos have enchanted the ear, and gained a 
 mastery over the heart. 
 
 " Medea to her Children" p. 248. 
 
 Jason, whose life had been saved by Medea, married 
 his benefactress, and arrived with her at Corinth, where 
 he became enamoured of Glauca, daughter of Creon, the 
 reigning prince. 
 
 The nuptials of Jason and Glauca are celebrated, and 
 Medea, with difficulty, gains permission from her faith- 
 less husband to remain in the city for one day. Having 
 at length obtained this favour, she employs the allotted 
 time in meditating and perfecting schemes of revenge on 
 the royal pair. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 275 
 
 Undrr pretence of gratitude for the lenity of her 
 rival, in granting her a day's residence in the city, she 
 presents her, hy the hands of her children, with a charmed 
 robe and mitre of the richest texture, both wrought by 
 her art to consume the wearer. 
 
 She permits Jason to live, but determines to avenge 
 her injuries on him by the murder of their common chil- 
 dren. The feelings of a mother revolt from the horrid 
 suggestion ; and her speech paints the fluctuation between 
 parental tenderness and the rage of an injured wife. 
 
 The desperation of this infuriate sorceress forms a 
 striking contrast to the delicacy and gentleness of 
 Alcestis, and the tender farewell of Admetus. 
 
 i( Chorus in the Medea" p. 251. 
 
 In this play is a striking passage on the power and 
 application of music, which the poet commends, not as 
 the companion of the banquet, but as the soother of 
 despair, madness, and sorrow. The English version of 
 this animated and beautiful extract is the noblest effort 
 of poetry which Dr. Johnson has bequeathed us. 
 
 To this day England cannot boast one great and im- 
 passioned poet in music. The mechanism of the art 
 remains with the Germans. They have a Mozart, who, 
 when the fever of fashion shall have subsided in this 
 country, which extols and decries with equal levity, will 
 descend to an honourable, secure* and permanent rank, 
 
276 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 after the two great Italian poets of vocal melody. In the 
 orchestra he will possibly remain unrivalled. But the 
 music of Germany tells no story to the heart. Despair 
 finds in it no hope, Melancholy finds no consolation. 
 These secrets are exclusively with the Italians. The 
 same bright sun, the same unclouded sky, the same 
 delightful scenery which impressed their images on that 
 sweet, harmonious, and sonorous language, made the 
 language of their music another symbol of their en- 
 chantment. 
 
 <c Tecmessa io Ajax" — " Ajax to Tecmessa" 
 
 p. 252-254. 
 
 This play represents the madness of a hero jealous of 
 his honour, and smarting from an indignity at the refusal 
 of his claim to the armour of Achilles, and the prefer- 
 ence given by his countrymen to a hated rival. 
 
 The effects of opposition on a mind obstinate, fierce, 
 and ungovernable, like that of Ajax, are pourtrayed to 
 the life in the " method of his madness," and the dark 
 and mysterious portent of his words in intervals of sere- 
 nity. He had been presented with a sword by Hector, 
 his mortal enemy. With this weapon he slaughtered a 
 herd of cattle which his feverish imagination pictured as 
 his enemies. On returning to his senses he is bent on 
 self-destruction, from which Tecmessa, a Lycian prin- 
 cess, whom he had led into captivity, and afterwards 
 married, endeavours to dissuade him, in a speech over- 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 277 
 
 flowing with tenderness, and melancholy presages of the 
 misfortunes that will befall his surviving wife and child, 
 when deprived of their protector. The expostulations of 
 a female in a barbarous age met with but little attention ; 
 and the poet required all the impassioned eloquence of 
 which he was master, to make the impression described 
 on the resolution of Ajax probable or agreeable to a 
 Grecian audience. But the genius of Sophocles courted 
 difficulties which it could so easily surmount. The 
 point of time and circumstances which give rise to the 
 speeches of Tecmessa, Ajax, Electra, and Philoctetes r 
 are so momentous and unexpected, that most poets 
 would have withdrawn from sight those scenes which he 
 ventures to represent. The gentle appeal of Tecmessa 
 in behalf of herself and infant, for some time reconciles 
 her husband to life. He answers by shewing how vain 
 are the predeterminations and even oaths of man, which 
 are subject to the control of time, or the over-ruling 
 sway of superior eloquence ; and thus, ungraciously 
 indeed, implies his resolution to live, and to protect his 
 family. In doing this he resolves to bury the sword yet 
 reeking with blood. At the mention of this ominous 
 weapon his reason again becomes clouded, and in lan- 
 guage dreary and unsettled, he hints to all but his wife 
 his resolution to commit, suicide. He hastens to the 
 shore, where his body is discovered after the perpetration 
 of the deed. 
 
2/8 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 w Cassandra, infuriate at her marriage with Aga- 
 memnon" p. 256. 
 
 A mighty and flourishing city has been conquered, 
 and its martial inhabitants are sent away into captivity 
 or put to the sword. — Agreeably to the customs of a 
 barbarous age, the females submit to accept strangers, 
 enemies, and the murderers of their rightful lords and 
 children, for husbands. — Cassandra, the prophetess, is 
 allotted to Agamemnon ; and previously to being led 
 away to the tent of her master, vents her indignation 
 against him, and fortells the violent death wjiich awaits 
 him and herself. 
 
 This speech is singular for the violence of passion, 
 which subsides at the names of persons endeared to her 
 by relationship. As the hour for embarkation approaches, 
 her phrenzy comes on again — her desire of revenge 
 becomes more desperate — and her grief for parting from 
 her country more violent. By the spirit of prophecy, 
 with which she is unhappily gifted, she foresees the 
 murder of her husband. The same spirit paints to her 
 eyes her own corpse thrown into the waves, and tossed 
 on shore near his grave. 
 
 The contrast between the violence of Cassandra and 
 the gentle resignation of Andromache, is finely preserved 
 in the original speeches. 
 
GRECIAN DRAMA. 279 
 
 €t Chorus in the Andromache." p. 261. 
 
 To the Chorus succeeds the simple and beautiful com- 
 plaint of a bride, whose husband has been slaughtered 
 by the enemy ; and who is torn from her country, and 
 debased from her royalty, to become an exile, and a 
 slave to the passions of a brutal conqueror. 
 
 " CEdipus led by his Daughter Antigone" p. 261. 
 
 The wretched CEdipus, now old and blind, after a 
 series of misfortunes and wanderings, is led by his 
 daughter Antigone to the grove of the Furies, where it 
 was foredoomed that he should die. As they are igno- 
 rant of the place, they make enquiries of a stranger, who 
 bids them leave the spot sacred to Powers whom mortals 
 dreaded even to call by name. CEdipus rejoices at the 
 information, and hails the day of his arrival there as that 
 of his release from the world. 
 
 The structure of the English couplet obliged the 
 translator to join the detached parts of the dialogues, 
 that the verse might not be impeded. 
 
 a Iphigenia to Agamemnon. 3 ' p. 264. 
 
 The circumstances which gave rise to this address of 
 a daughter to her father, inducing him to spare her life, 
 
280 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 are too well known to admit of repetition. The terrors 
 inspired by death in a young, beautiful, and gentle 
 female, who is summoned from life at an age the most 
 disposed for its enjoyments, and unacquainted with its 
 sorrows, are here finely pourtrayed. — The animated 
 cowardice of Claudio forcibly occurred to the translator ; 
 and he has ventured to enlist into his service a few of 
 those happy expressions, for which our great dramatist 
 was remarkable, as illustrative of the impressions made 
 by the Grecian. 
 
FUNERAL AND MONUMENTAL. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 ON PRIVATE PERSONS. 
 
 Meleager, 109, i. 30. 
 ON THE WIFE OF MELEAGER. B. 
 
 Tears o'er my Heliodora's grave I shed, 
 Affection's fondest tribute to the dead. 
 Oh, flow, my bitter sorrows, o'er her shrine, 
 Pledge of the love that bound her soul to mine ! 
 Break, break my heart, o'ercharged with bursting woe, 
 An empty offering to the shades below ! 
 Ah, plant regretted ! Death's remorseless power 
 With dust unfruitful choaked thy full-blown flower. 
 Take, earth, the gentle inmate to thy breast, 
 And, soft entomb'd, bid Heliodora rest. 
 
 Meleager, 125. i. 36. 
 
 ON A BRIDE, WHO DIED ON THE DAY OF HER 
 MARRIAGE. M. 
 
 Clarissa, when she loosed her virgin zone, 
 Found in the nuptial bed an early grave ; 
 
 Death claim'd the bridegroom's right ; to death alone 
 The treasure, promised to her spouse, she gave. 
 
284 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 To sweetest sounds the happy evening fled, 
 The flute's soft strain and hymeneal choir ; 
 
 At morn sad howlings echo round the bed, 
 And the glad hymns on quivering lips expire. 
 
 The very torches that, at fall of night, 
 
 Shed their bright radiance o'er the bridal room, 
 
 Those very torches, with the morning's light, 
 Conduct the lovely sufferer to her tomb. 
 
 Erinna, 3. i. 58. 
 ON THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 I mark the spot where Ida's ashes lie : 
 
 Whoe'er thou art that passest silent by 
 
 This simple column, graced with many a tear, 
 
 Call the fierce monarch of the shades severe. 
 
 These mystic ornaments too plainly shew 
 
 The cruel fate of her who lies below : 
 
 With the same torch that Hymen gladly led 
 
 The expecting virgin to the nuptial bed, 
 
 Her weeping husband lit the funeral pyre, 
 
 And saw the dreary flames of Death aspire. 
 
 Thou too, oh Hymen, bad'st the jocund lay 
 
 That hail'd thy festive season, die away, 
 
 Changed for the sighs of woe, and groans of deep dismay* 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 285 
 
 Erinna, 2. i. 58. 
 ANOTHER. B. 
 
 Say, ye cold pillars, and thou weeping urn, 
 And sculptured Syrens, that appear to mourn ; 
 And guard, within, my poor and senseless dust, 
 Consign'd by fondest memory to your trust, — 
 Say to the stranger, as he muses nigh, 
 That Ida's ashes here lamented lie, 
 Of noble lineage, — that Erinna's love 
 Thus mourns the partner of her joys above. 
 
 dnyte, 22. i. 200. 
 ON A YOUNG VIRGIN. M. 
 
 Unhappy Delia, when the hand of Death 
 Choak'd the faint struggles of her lingering breath, 
 And parting life scarce glimmer' d in her face, 
 Strain'd her fond father in a last embrace. 
 " Oh father, I'm no more ! dark clouds arise : 
 " The mists of death hang heavy o'er my eyes." 
 
 Anyte^ 19. i. 201. 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 
 In this sad tomb where Phillida is laid, 
 Her mother oft invokes the gentle shade, 
 And calls, in hopeless grief, on her who died 
 In the full bloom of youth, and beauty's pride, 
 Who left, a virgin, the bright realms of day, 
 On gloomy Acheron's pale coasts to stray. 
 
286 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Anyte. 22. i. 201. 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 Unblest Antibia calls this mournful strain, 
 The noblest virgin of Diana's train : 
 Gay gallant youths adored her as their God, 
 And lordly suitors waited on her nod. 
 But, to resist the power of Fate, how vain 
 Is beauty ! Flow afresh, my mournful strain. 
 
 Leonidas, 99. i. 247. 
 
 A MOTHER ON HER SON. B. 
 
 Unhappy child ! unhappy I, who shed 1 
 A mother's sorrows o'er thy funeral bed ! 
 Thou'rt gone in youth, Amyntas ; I, in age, 
 Must wander thro' a lonely pilgrimage, 
 And sigh for regions of unchanging night, 
 And sicken at Xhe day's repeated light. 
 Oh guide me hence, sweet spirit, to that bourn 
 Where in thy presence I shall cease to mourn. 
 
 Paulus. 83. iii. 102. 
 ON A DAUGHTER WHO DIED YOUNG. B. 
 
 Sweet maid, thy parents fondly thought 
 To strew thy bride-bed, not thy bier ; 
 
 But thou hast left a being fraught 
 With wiles and toils and anxious fear. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 2$T 
 
 For us remains a journey drear, 
 For thee a blest eternal prime, 
 
 Uniting, in thy short career, 
 Youth's blossom, with the fruit of time. 
 
 Xenocritus, ii. 256. 
 
 ON A DAUGHTER DROWNED AT SEA. B. 
 
 Cold on the wild wave floats thy virgin form, 
 
 Drench'd are thine auburn tresses by the storm, 
 
 Poor lost Eliza ! in the raging sea, 
 
 Gone was my every joy and hope with thee ! 
 
 These sad recording stones thy fate deplore, 
 
 Thy bones are wafted to some distant shore; 
 
 What bitter sorrows did thy father prove, 
 
 Who brought thee destined for a bridegroom's love ! 
 
 Sorrowing he came — nor to the youth forlorn 
 
 Consign'd a maid to love, nor corpse to mourn. 
 
 CallimachuSf i. 474. 
 
 ON A ERIEND DROWNED AT SEA. B. 
 
 Oh ! had no venturous keel defied the deep, 
 Then had hot Lycid floated on the brine ! 
 
 For him, the youth beloved, we pass and weep, 
 A name lamented, and an empty shrine. 
 
2SS SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Uncertain, 642. iii. 287. 
 ON A FRIEND. M. 
 How often, Lycid, shall I bathe with tears 
 This little stone, which our great love endears 
 Thou too, in memory of the vows we made, 
 Drink not of Lethe in the realm of shade ! 
 
 Philodemus, 30. ii. 91. 
 ANOTHER. H. 
 
 Still bloom my roses — still my garden bears 
 
 Its ripening load of plums and juicy pears ; 
 
 Herbs and young shrubs put forth their vigorous shoots, 
 
 And mingled fragrance breathes from flowers and fruits. 
 
 But in yon much-loved bower I sit no more, 
 
 Yon bower of myrtles that o'erlooks the shore — 
 
 There sat my friend, and drank his cares away 
 
 But yesternight— a senseless corse to day ! 
 
 Callimachut, 
 ANOTHER. H. 
 
 I heard thy fate, Athenio, not unmoved : 
 A bitter tear my recollection proved, 
 How oft conversing with my parted friend, 
 I scarce have seen the summer sun descend. 
 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 289 
 
 And thou, dear Guest, cold ashes art become, 
 In an unknown, a last, eternal home, 
 But, like sad Philomel's, thy tuneful breath 
 Survives, triumphant o'er the robber Death. 
 
 {La Rochette. Melanges de Critique, tyc. i. 124.) 
 
 ON A YOUNG MARINER. M. 
 
 Stay, Traveller ! nor pass unheeding by~ 
 The loved of Heav'n, and now immortal, I, 
 Radiant in youth, like those twin gods, who guide 
 The prosperous vessel o'er th' obedient tide, 
 Myself, a willing wanderer o'er the wave, 
 Here, for my father's virtues, found my grave, 
 Here bid farewell to sickness, labour, care, 
 And all the misery to which flesh is heir. 
 Know thou, of souls from mortal bondage freed, 
 Some walk this earth again, but others lead 
 The starry choirs in endless harmony, 
 A blessed host, — and of that host am I. 
 
 Diodorus Zonas, 9. ii. 82. 
 ON A SHIPWRECKED MARINER. B. 
 Accept a grave in these deserted sands, 
 That on thy head I strew with pious hands ; 
 For to these wintry crags no mother bears 
 The decent rites, or mourns thee with her tears. 
 U 
 
290 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Yet, on the frowning promontory laid, 
 Some pious dues, Alexis, please thy shade ; 
 A little sand beside the sounding wave, 
 Moisten'd with flowing tears, shall be thy grave, 
 
 St. Gregory Nazianzen. 
 
 ON A YOUTH OF FAIR PROMISE. H. B. 
 
 Euphemius slumbers in this hallow'd ground, 
 Son of Amphilochus, by all renown'd : 
 He whom the Graces to the Muses gave, 
 Tuneful no more, lies mouldering in the grave 
 The minstrels came to chaunt the bridal lay, 
 But swifter Envy bore the prize away. 
 
 The Same. 
 
 ANOTHER ON THE SAME. H. B. 
 
 Euphemius flash'd, then veil'd his dazzling beam, 
 As bright and transient as the lightning's gleam. 
 Illumed with wsidom's fire, with beauty's glow, 
 He bade our joy, now bids our sorrow, flow. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 291 
 
 ANOTHER ON THE SAME. H. B. 
 
 Ye fountains, streams, and groves ; ye choral throng. 
 Who pour from every bough melodious song, 
 Light-fanning winds that whisper balmy rest, 
 And smiling gardens by the Graces drest, 
 Mourn, lovely land ! in death his honour'd name 
 Euphemius gave thee, and immortal fame. 
 Fair was Euphemius 'mid the blooming swains, 
 And fair art thou, Elysium of the plains. 
 As thine his beauty, his renown is thine, 
 Bloom, ever bloom, Euphemia, realm divine. 
 
 Ti/mneus, 5. i. 506. 
 
 ON ONE WHO DIED IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY. M. 
 
 Grieve not, Philsenis, tho* condemn'd to die 
 
 Far from thy parent soil and native sky ; 
 
 Tho' strangers' hands must raise thy funeral pile, 
 
 And lay thy ashes in a foreign isle: 
 
 To all on Death's last dreary journey bound 
 
 The road is equal and alike the ground. 
 
292 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Antipater) 84. ii. 29. 
 ON A MOTHER AND DAUGHTER, 
 
 WHO KILLED THEMSELVES AT THE SIEGE OF CORINTH, IN ORDER 
 TO AVOID CAPTIVITT- B. 
 
 Here sleeps a Daughter by her Mother's side ; 
 Nor slow disease nor war our fates allied : 
 When hostile banners over Corinth waved, 
 Preferring death, we left a land enslaved ; 
 Pierced by a Mother's steel, in youth I bled, 
 She nobly join'd me in my gory bed: 
 In vain ye forge your fetters for the brave, 
 Who fly for sacred freedom to the grave. 
 
 Uncertain, 679. iii. 296. 
 ON A MISERABLE OLD MAN. B. 
 
 By years and misery worn, no hand to save 
 With some poor pittance from a desperate grave, 
 W 7 ith the small strength my wretched age supplied, 
 I crawl'd beneath this lonely pile, and died. 
 ScreenM from the scoff of pride, and grandeur's frown, 
 In this sad spot I laid my sufferings down, 
 Reversed the laws of Death, the common doom, 
 And, while my life-blood flow'd, suborn'd my tomb. 
 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 293 
 
 Carphylides, 2. ii. 401. 
 
 ON A HAPPY OLD MAN. B. 
 
 Think not, whoe'er thou art, ray fate severe; 
 Nor o'er my marble stop to shed a tear ! 
 One tender partner shared my happy state, 
 And all that life imposes, but its weight. 
 Three lovely girls in nuptial ties I bound, 
 And children's children smiled my board around, 
 And, often pillow'd on their grandsire's breast, 
 Their darling offspring sunk to sweetest rest. 
 Disease and death were strangers to my door, 
 Nor from my arms one blooming infant tore. 
 All, all survived, my dying eyes to close, 
 And hymn my spirit to a blest repose. 
 
 Uncertain, 650. iii. 288. 
 ANOTHER. H. & B. 
 Take old Amyntor to thy breast, dear soil, 
 In kind remembrance of his former toil, 
 Who first enrich'd and ornamented thee 
 With many a lovely shrub and branching tree, 
 And lured the stream to fall in artful showers 
 Upon thy thirsting herbs and fainting flowers. 
 First in the spring he knew the rose to rear, 
 First in the autumn cull the ripen'd pear ; 
 
294 ' SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 His vines were envied all the village round, 
 And favouring Heaven shower d plenty on his ground, 
 Therefore, kind Earth, reward him in thy breast 
 With a green covering and an easy rest. 
 
 Callimachus, 49. i. 472. 
 
 ON A VIRTUOUS MAN. M. 
 
 Herb Saon, wrapp'd in holy slumber, lies : 
 Thou canst not say, the just and virtuous dies. 
 
 Meleager, 121. i. 35. 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 
 Hail, universal Mother ! Lightly rest 
 
 On that dead form, 
 Which, when with life invested, ne'er oppress'd 
 
 Its fellow worm. 
 
 Ammianus, 13. ii. 387. 
 ON A BAD MAN. M. 
 
 Light lie the earth, Nearchus, on thy clay, 
 — That so the dogs may easier find their prey. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 295 
 
 Uncertain^ T8. iii. 1 65. 
 
 FUNERAL HONOURS. M. 
 
 Seek not to glad these senseless stones 
 . With fragrant ointments, rosy wreathes ; 
 No warmth can reach my mouldering bones 
 From lustral fire that vainly breathes. 
 
 Now let me revel while I may, 
 
 The wine that o'er my grave is shed 
 Mixes with earth and turns to clay : 
 
 No honours can delight the dead. 
 
 From Stoutens. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. B. 
 
 Oh, think not that, with garlands crown'd, 
 Inhuman near thy grave we tread, 
 
 Or blushing roses scatter round 
 To mock the paleness of the dead ! 
 
 What though we drain the fragrant bowl, 
 In flowers adorn'd, and silken vest, 
 
 Oh think not, brave departed soul, 
 We revel to disturb thy rest ! 
 
296 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Feign'd is the pleasure that appears, 
 And false the triumph of our eyes ; . 
 
 Our draughts of joy are dash'd with tears, 
 Our songs imperfect end in sighs. 
 
 We inly mourn ; o'er flowery plains 
 To roam in joyous trance is thine: 
 
 And pleasures unallied to pains, 
 Unfading sweets, immortal wine. 
 
 Uncertain, 738. iii.312. 
 THE HOPE OF IMMORTALITY. M. 
 
 Thou art not dead, my Rosa, tho' no more 
 Inhabitant of this tempestuous shore, 
 Fled to the peaceful Islands of the Blest, 
 W here Youth and Love, for ever blooming, rest, 
 Or joyful wandering o'er Elysian ground, 
 Among soft flowers where not a thorn is found. 
 No winter freezes there, no summer fires, 
 No sickness weakens, and no labour tires 5 
 No longer poverty nor thirst oppress, 
 Nor envy of man's boasted happiness; 
 But spring for ever glows serenely bright, 
 And bliss immortal hails the heavenly light. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 207 
 
 ON 
 
 POETS, AND ILLUSTRIOUS PERSONS. 
 
 Antipater^ 67. ii. 24. 
 ON ORPHEUS. B. 
 
 No more, sweet Orpheus, shalt thou lead along 
 Oaks, rocks, and savage monsters, with thy song, 
 Fetter the winds, the struggling hail-storm chain, 
 The snowy desert soothe, and sounding main; 
 For thou art dead ; the Muses o'er thy bier, 
 Sad as thy Parent, pour the tuneful tear. 
 Weep we a child ? Not e'en the Gods can save 
 Their glorious offspring from the hated grave. 
 
 Antipateri 72. ii. 25. 
 
 ON ANACREON. B. 
 Grow, clustering Ivy, where Anacreon lies ; 
 There may soft buds from purple meadows rise : 
 Gush, milky springs, the poet's turf to lave, 
 And, fragrant wine, flow joyous from his grave : 
 Thus charm'd, his bones shall press their narrow bed, 
 If aught of pleasure ever reach the dead. 
 In these delights he soothed his age above, 
 His life devoting to the lyre and love. 
 
298 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 SimmiaSy 2. i. 168. 
 
 ON SOFHOCLES. 
 
 From the Spectator. 
 Wind, gentle evergreen, to form a shade 
 Around the tomb where Sophocles is laid ; 
 Sweet ivy lend thine aid, and intertwine 
 With blushing roses, and the clustering vine : 
 Thus s*hall thy lasting leaves, with beauties hung, 
 Prove grateful emblems of the lays he sung. 
 
 AIccbus Mess. 18. i. 490. 
 
 ON HIPPONAX THE SATIRIST. B. 
 
 Thy grave no purple clusters rise to grace, 
 But thorns and briars choak the fearful place ; 
 These herbs malign, and bitter fruits, supply 
 Unwholesome juices to the passer-by \ 
 And as, Hipponax, near thy tomb he goes, 
 Shuddering he turns, and prays for thy repose. 
 
 Theocritus, 20. i. 382. 
 JON THE SAME. M. 
 Beneath this stone Hipponax* ashes lie ; 
 Traveller, if guilt alarm, turn back and fly ; 
 If conscious worth your soul uninjured keep, 
 Here boldly sit, and if you choose it, sleep. 
 
SEPULCHRAL, 299 
 
 Julianus JEgyptius, 67. ii. 510. 
 ON DEMOCRITUS. M. 
 
 Pluto, receive the Sage, whose ghost 
 
 Is wafted to thy gloomy shore. 
 One laughing spirit seeks the coast, 
 
 Where never smile was seen before. 
 
 Antipater, 47. ii. 19. 
 ON ERINNA. M. 
 
 Few were thy notes, Erinna, short thy lay, 
 But thy short lay the Muse herself has given ; 
 
 Thus never shall thy memory decay, 
 
 Nor night obscure thy fame, which lives in fyeaven 
 
 While we, the unnumber'd bards of after times, 
 
 Sink in the melancholy grave unseen, 
 Unhonour'd reach Avernus' fabled climes, 
 
 And leave no record that we once have been. 
 
 Sweet are the graceful swan's melodious lays, 
 
 Tho' but an instant heard, and then they die ; 
 But the long chattering of discordant jays 
 , The winds of April scatter thro' the sky. 
 
500 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Fragment in Athenceus. 
 
 ON THE SAME. M. 
 
 Scarce nineteen summer suns had shed 
 Youth's roses o'er the virgin's head, 
 While by a guardian mother's side 
 Her customary tasks she plied, 
 Bad her rich silks the loom prepare, 
 Or watch'd the distaff's humble care ; 
 Her modest worth the Muses knew, 
 Brought her rich talents forth to view, 
 With their own fires they fill'd her soul, 
 Bad her young eye in transport roll, 
 And (ah ! too soon from human eyes ! 
 Bore her, their handmaid, to the skies. 
 
 Leonidas, 100. i. 247. 
 ON HIMSELF. M. 
 
 Far from Tarentum's native soil I lie, 
 
 Far from the dear land of my infancy. 
 
 'Tis dreadful to resign this mortal breath, 
 
 But in a stranger-land is worse than death ! 
 
 It is not life to pass our fever'd age 
 
 In ceaseless wanderings on the world's wide stage 
 
SEPULCHRAL. * 301 
 
 But me the Muse has ever loved, and given 
 Sweet joys to counterpoise the curse of Heaven, 
 Nor lets my memory decay, but long 
 To distant times preserves my deathless song. 
 
 Simonides, 31. i. 131. 
 
 ON MEGISTIAS THE SOOTHSAYER, WHO FELL AT 
 THERMOPYLAE. M. 
 
 This tomb records Megistias' honour'd name, 
 Who, boldly fighting in the ranks of Fame, 
 
 Fell by the Persians near Sperchius' tide. 
 Both past and future well the Prophet knew, 
 And yet, tho* death was open to his view, 
 
 He chose to perish at his general's side. 
 
 Simonides, 53. i. 136. 
 
 ON ARCHEDICE THE DAUGHTER OF HIPPIAS. M, 
 
 Daughter of him who ruled the Athenian plains, 
 This honour'd dust Archedice contains ; 
 Of tyrants mother, daughter, sister, wife, 
 Her soul was humble, and unstain'd her life. 
 
302 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Simonides, 32. i. 181. 
 ON THOSE WHO FELL AT THERMOPYLE. 
 
 Greatly to die — if this be Glory's height, 
 For the fair meed, we own our fortune kind. 
 
 For Greece and Liberty we plunged to night, 
 And left a never-dying name behind. 
 
 Tullius Geminusy 10. ii. 281. 
 ON THEMISTOCLES. M. 
 Greece be the monument : around her throw 
 
 The broken trophies of the Persian fleet; 
 Inscribe the gods that led th' insulting foe, 
 
 And mighty Xerxes at the tablet's feet. 
 There lay Themistocles — to spread his fame 
 
 A lasting column Salamis shall be, 
 Raise not, weak man, to that immortal name 
 
 The little records of mortality ! 
 
 ON THE SAME. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 By the sea's margin, on the watery strand, 
 Thy monument, Themistocles, shall stand. 
 By this directed to thy native shore, 
 The merchant shall convey his freighted store, 
 And, when our fleets are summoned to the fight, 
 Athens shall conquer with thy bones in sight. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. SOS 
 
 Leonidas Alex. 38. ii. 198: 
 ON TIMON OF ATHENS. M. 
 
 If, this inscriptive pillar passing by, 
 Stranger, thou greet mine ashes with a sigh, 
 Invoke my name, or search my funeral urn, 
 May all the gods prohibit thy return. 
 But if in silence by my tomb thou go y 
 (Silence, unworthy him who rests below,) 
 Still shall my angry ghost thy steps attend, 
 And Furies haunt thee to thy journey's end. 
 
 Buschke, Analecta Critica, 189. 
 ON THE FIGURE OF A FURY, 
 
 PLACED ON THE TOMB OF PSAMATHE AT TRIPODISCUS. M. 
 
 Placed by the sons of Inachus I stand, 
 
 And those who plough the Megarensian land ; 
 
 Avenger of the slaughter'd maiden's doom, 
 
 And guardian Fury of her hallow'd tomb. 
 
 Corcebus reft me of my life — he lies, 
 
 Low at my feet, a heav'n-mark'd sacrifice. 
 
 The power that speaks from Delphi's shrine, e'en he, 
 
 Decreed me, of his best-loved bride to be 
 
 At once the monument and history. 
 
301 SEPULCHRAL. 
 
 Joannes Lascaris. 
 ON MARCESIUS RHALLES, 
 
 A NOBLE BYZANTINE, WHO DIED SHORTLY BEFORE THE CAPTURE 
 OF CONSTANTINOPLE BY THE TURKS. M. 
 
 " Oh thou, who sleep'st in brazen slumber, tell, 
 — (Thy high descent and noble name full well 
 I know — Byzantium claims thy birth — ) but say, 
 How didst thou perish in thy youthful day?" 
 " A death, unworthy of my high estate — 
 This thought is keener than the stroke of Fate 
 I bled not in the ranks of those who fell 
 For glorious, falling Greece — no more — Farewell !" 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FUNERAL AND MONUMENTAL. 
 
 H Tears o'er my Heliodords grave I shed" p. 283. 
 
 I have, in common with many others, supposed this 
 epitaph to he inscribed to the memory of Meleager's 
 wife, Heliodora. Valcknaer attributes it to his daughter, 
 others to his mistress — some read Heliodorus. " Pro- 
 fectfcnonnullae vocularum extincto puero magis convenire 
 videntur." (Rt iske. Praefat.) — sc. $uko$. ootpMM clv$o$ 9 
 &c. It is not worth while to enter into the dispute; 
 and, as all is conjecture, that reading, and that interpre- 
 tation, is to be preferred, which attaches the strongest 
 interest to the poem. 
 
 " Clarissa, when she loosed her virgin zone" p. 283. 
 
 This turn of thought continually occurs in the ancient 
 writers. Ci The tomb, my child, is thy bridal bed, Death 
 is thy bridegroom, grief thy Hymen, and these groans 
 
306 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 thy song of marriage, I hoped, my Love, to have kindled a 
 flame far different from this ; but malignant Destiny has 
 extinguished the torch of Hymen, and now lights up that 
 of thy funeral/' Achilles Tatius. So Cydippe, in Ovid; 
 
 " Nostraque plorantes video super ora parentes, 
 Et face pro thalami fax mihi mortis adest." 
 
 Capulet, relating the supposed death of Juliet, makes 
 use of similar expressions : 
 
 " Oh son, the night before thy wedding day, 
 
 Hath Death lain with thy wife : see, there she lies, 
 Flower as she was, deflowered now by him, 
 Death is my son in law, Death is my heir, 
 My daughter he hath wedded — I will die 
 
 And leave him all 
 
 All things that we ordained festival 
 Turn from their office to black funeral 
 Our instruments to melancholy bells ; 
 Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast ; 
 Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ; 
 And bridal flowers serve for a buried corse." 
 
 The zone, or girdle of a bride, was fastened round her 
 waist with a peculiar knot, which is said to have borne 
 some mystic signification of constancy or purity. This 
 knot, says Brown, in his Vulgar Errors, resembled " the 
 maky complication in the Caduceus, or rod of Hermes." 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 307 
 
 Our u True lovers' knot," which was very illustrious a 
 century ago, but is now hardly known to have possessed 
 any distinguishing quality, is derived by him, with a 
 great deal of fancy, but some probability, from the knot 
 of the bride's girdle. 
 
 This deeply affecting subject, a young and beautiful 
 female torn away from the brightest hopes by death, 
 has been once the successful theme of a French poet. 
 
 The following lines will bear a comparison with the 
 most tender strains of Grecian sorrow. 
 
 Inscription on an Urn placed at the entrance of a little 
 wood, which bordered a meadow, where the young 
 girls of a neighbouring village were accustomed to 
 assemble. 
 
 It is spoken by the shepherdess to whom this monument 
 is consecrated. 
 
 u Jeunes beaut^s, qui venez dans ces lieux 
 Fouler d'un pied leger l'herbe tendre et fleurie, 
 Comme vous j'ai connu les plaisirs de la vie, 
 Vos fetes, vos transports, et vos aimables jeux. 
 L Amour bergoit mon cceur de ses douces chimeres, 
 Et l'Hymen me flattoit du destin le plus beau; 
 Un instant d&ruisit ces erreurs mensongeres — 
 Que me reste-il ? le tombeau." 
 
308 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Young beauties tempted here in spring, 
 To press the herbage green within these bowers ; 
 Like your's, my May of life was strew'd with flowers, 
 My sports like your's, that knew no hidden sting. 
 Love lull'd my heart with visions bright and fair, 
 And Hymen seem'd to claim me in my bloom j 
 An instant gave my gilded hope to air — 
 
 What now is mine ? the tomb. B. 
 
 u I mark the spot where Ida's ashes He, 3 ' p. 284. 
 
 This and the succeeding poem recommend themselves 
 by their pathetic simplicity, and still more by the re- 
 semblance which they bear to the circumstances attend- 
 ing the death of their author. 
 
 The last of the two is valuable for the picture it gives 
 of a Grecian tomb, and of the ornaments that accom- 
 panied it. 
 
 The ^tyiXui, or pillars on which the names and families 
 of the deceased were inscribed, together with the tribu- 
 tary effusions of friends or relatives, were common to 
 every monument of distinction. 
 
 The ^sipyves, or images of Sirens, were ornaments by 
 no means singular, nor were they appropriated to any 
 particular class of persons. They distinguished the tomb 
 of Isocrates, and conveyed, by a metaphor in sculpture, 
 a representation of the harmony and copiousness of his 
 eloquence. They were conspicuous ornaments on the 
 monument of Sophocles, the charms of whose poetry 
 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 309 
 
 they denoted by a still juster figure. On the tombs of 
 newly married persons, as in the present instance, the 
 application was more general ; yet, as the mournful 
 melody of the Siren's song has been celebrated by poets 
 ever since the days of Homer, the sorrowful bridegroom 
 would find them natural and soothing emblems of his 
 own affliction. 
 
 The Kpcti<r<ro$ was a particular species of those funeral 
 urns, the various names and purposes of which cannot 
 now be distinctly ascertained. The ashes of the deceased 
 were preserved in them ; and they were, in general, 
 placed in some conspicuous situation, as at the top of 
 the inscriptive pillar, which was the case with the famous 
 column of Trajan at Rome, till the piety of a monkish 
 age removed the* emperor's urn to make room for St. 
 Peter's statue. 
 
 The urns of virgins, or youthful brides, were often 
 decorated with flowers and garlands, which the affection 
 of survivors continually renewed, and may sometimes 
 have preserved alive and flourishing, during a period as 
 lasting as the grief which consecrated them. 
 
 " Unhappy Delia, ivhen the hand of Death" p. 285, 
 
 It will doubtless strike every reader, as a remarkable 
 circumstance, that the subject of this, and the three 
 succeeding poems by the same Author (which, though in 
 itself peculiarly mournful and poetical, is not capable of 
 
310 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 great variety or amplification), should have been so 
 general a favourite among the female bards of Greece. 
 Out of the very few pieces preserved of Sappho and 
 Erinna, no less than four are Elegies on the premature 
 fate of some fair companion of their youth ; and those 
 which are here inserted, comprise almost all that remains 
 of the works of Anyte. Simple as they are (and their 
 simplicity is their only recommendation^ it must be 
 confessed that they yield, even in that quality, to the 
 celebrated distich, said to have been composed for her- 
 self, by Margaret of Austria, when in imminent danger 
 of shipwreck : 
 
 " Cy gist Margot, noble demoiselle, 
 Deux fois marine, et morte pucelle." 
 
 " Unhappy child ! unhappy I, ivho shed." p. 286. 
 
 This little poem, like almost every production of the 
 same author, is full of real nature and sensibility. It is 
 the complaint of a mother, whose child has been ravished 
 from her by a premature death. Among the innumer- 
 able obscure epitaphs which crowd the Anthologies, are 
 several on the tombs of infants; and this is almost the 
 only one at all superior in sentiment or pathos to the 
 unfeeling jeu d'esprit of a Frenchman; who, when en- 
 treated by an afflicted mother to celebrate the death of 
 
SEPULCHRAL. • 311 
 
 an only child, whose recent loss she lamented, produced 
 the following lines : 
 
 " Colas est mort de maladie — 
 
 Tu veux que j'en plaigne le sort. 
 Que Diable veux-tu que je die ? 
 
 Colas vivoit, Colas est mort." (Menagiana.) 
 
 Colin sicken'd, and died t'other day — 
 You would wish me his fate to deplore. 
 
 What the deuce would you have me to say ? 
 Colin lived — Colin now lives no n#re. B. 
 
 " Sweet maid, thy parents fondly thought." p. 286*. 
 
 The name of the virgin, on whom this epitaph was 
 composed, is in the original Macedonia ; and in the 
 usual spirit of Greek simplicity, we are informed, that 
 her age was only twelve years at the time of her death. 
 The words of an ancient scholiast leave some doubt 
 whether she was not the daughter of Macedonius the 
 consul ; but I cannot acquiesce in one of the reasons 
 assigned for this conjecture, namely, that " hoc carmen 
 quod ceteroqui non invenustum est, nil habet paterni 
 affectus." 
 
312 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Cold on the wild wave floats thy virgin form,** 
 
 p. 287. 
 
 A father embarks with his daughter, to bear her over 
 the sea, for the purpose of celebrating her nuptials. 
 They are overtaken by a storm, and the intended bride is 
 drowned before she arrives near the shore, where the 
 bridegroom is expecting her. The father piles a ceno f 
 taph to her memory on the sea-coast, and laments that 
 the waves have not even spared her corse for the accus- 
 tomed ho%urs due to the dead. The disconsolate 
 parent addresses the image of his daughter, which he 
 fancies to be floating before him, with her hair drenched 
 and torn. The same picture is presented by Pro- 
 pertius : 
 
 " I saw thee, loveliest, imaged in my sleep, 
 Wave thy faint hand above the dreary deep, 
 Confess thy cruelties, and strive in vain 
 To raise thy swelling locks, that sunk again." B. 
 
 " How often, Lycid, shall I bathe with tears" p. 288. 
 
 It is probable that Jortin alluded to these lines in the 
 conclusion of his inscription : 
 
 " Quae te sub tenera rapuerunt, Pceta, juvent& 
 O, utinam me crudelia Fata vocent : 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 313 
 
 Ut linquam terras, invisaque lumina solis j 
 Utque tuus rursum corpore sim posito. 
 
 Te sequar ; obscurum per iter dux ibit eunti 
 Fidus Amor, tenebras lampade discutiens ; 
 
 Tu cave Lethaeo continguas ora liquore ; 
 Et cito venturi sis memor, oro, Viri." 
 
 Oh ! had the Fate that cut thy tender age, 
 Made me companion of thy pilgrimage, 
 That I might say, Farewell to earth and sky, 
 And once again beside my Poeta lie ! 
 Thee will I follow — on the darksome road 
 Love lights me onward to thy calm abode : 
 Refrain thy lip from that oblivious wave, 
 And think of him who hastens to thy grave. B. 
 
 In the same spirit the ghost of Julia addresses Pompey. 
 
 u Non me Lethaeae, conjux, oblivia vitas 
 Immemorem fecere tui." 
 
 "Still bloom my roses, — still my garden bears? p.288. 
 
 If Jacobs's interpretation be right, this Epigram of 
 Philodemus has not been sufficiently understood in the 
 translation here given of it; but the sentiment with 
 which it concludes I cannot persuade myself to alter in 
 conformity with his opinion. That the poet laments th* 
 
514 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 sudden death of two of his companions, not of one only, 
 since we know nothing about those companions, appears 
 to be a variation of very little importance. But the sense 
 is more materially altered, by finding that the flowers, 
 fruits, and herbs, which are described as growing in the 
 poet's garden, imply, in fact, only the preparations made 
 for a banquet, which, he says, he is unable to enjoy 
 from the remembrance of so sad a misfortune. It has 
 been conjectured by some, but without any sufficient 
 foundation, that the two friends had just been drowned 
 by the shore giving way ; and that, in the words fywij 
 $ovt uxtyis wnjSatfojxsv, the poet means to dissuade the 
 remaining guests from venturing too near the edge 
 of the sea, by their example. Defend us from so chil- 
 ling an interpretation ! The words do not imply the 
 slightest necessity for it. The ancients were accustomed 
 to repair to the sea-shore, for the purposes of conviviality 
 and luxurious festivity. As an illustration of this custom, 
 Jacobs refers us to a passage in the orations against 
 Verres. " Ac primo ad ilia sestiva praetoris accedunt, 
 ipsam illam ad partem littoris, ubi iste per eos dies 
 tabernaculis positis, castra luxurise collocarat ;" — and in 
 other parts of the works of Cicero, a similar testimony 
 not unfrequently occurs. The sense of the poem then 
 is, shortly, this, " The season of the year invites us to 
 renew our accustomed pleasures. Yet we do not hasten 
 to the sea-shore, and feast and rejoice ourselves as for- 
 merly \ for, only yesterday, those dear friends and com- 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 315 
 
 panions were with us, whom we follow to their graves 
 to day." 
 
 This is all that I can discover in the original, and is 
 much more simple and touching than what Brodseus, 
 and, after him, Jacobs, imagine that they have found in 
 it. " Quid est igitur, quod non ad actam properemus, 
 ibique in locis amcenis epulemur, ut antea ? Non cessare 
 debet, si quis vita frui capiat. Ipsa vitse brevitas et 
 rerum vicissitudines nos admonent, ut ne fruendi oppor- 
 tunitatem nobis patiamur elabi," &e. &c. Surely, the 
 text does not afford the least room for introducing this 
 hackneyed turn of sentiment; and we should rather 
 rejoice in finding a poem on the subject of the shortness 
 and uncertainty of life, without that familiar application, 
 than take pains to make it for ourselves, where it has 
 evidently been avoided by the author. 
 
 " Stay, Traveller ! nor pass unheeding by." p. 289. 
 
 This inscription was found at Aix, about the end of 
 the seventeenth century, on a table of stone, in the 
 cellar of a house, formerly inhabited by the celebrated 
 Peireskius. Being considerably defaced, and the task of 
 copying it committed to some ignorant person, it was 
 first published in a very corrupt form. M. Chardon de 
 la Rochette undertook the task of conjecturally supplying 
 the defects of the original inscription ; and from his 
 amended copy the above translation was made. 
 
316 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The last verses, he observes, evidently prove that the 
 author was " ou Pythagoricien ou Neoplatonicien." 
 " Ces ames qui viennent errer de nouveau sur la terre, 
 ees danses des corps celestes, ne laissent sur cela aucun 
 doute." Among the passages cited by Villoison, in illus- 
 tration of " the Dance of the Stars/' he points out the 
 following from the Hymns of Synesius : 
 
 'O eSwxsv otrpot VVKTl 
 Hspixo<r[JMciLV y(opsiot,v. 
 
 " Dieu donna des astres a la nuit, pour former des 
 danses autour du monde." Hymn ii. v. 8. 
 
 And another, from the 9th Hymn, in which (as he 
 remarks) the return of Christ from Hell is celebrated 
 with a magnificence of style worthy of Pindar. 
 
 Aviovtu as xoipavs, &c. 
 
 When, triumphant from the abyss, 
 Rose the King of Heaven to bliss, 
 Countless nations of the air 
 Heard the sound, and trembled there ; 
 And, with sacred awe, the choirs 
 Immortal veil'd their purer fires. 
 Then the Sire of Harmony, > 
 
 Ancient iEther, smiled around, 
 And bade his seven-toned lyre resound 
 The glad peal of victory. M. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 317 
 
 u Accept a grave in these deserted sands." p. 289. 
 
 A mariner has found a corse, cast upon a wild and 
 savage coast. He laments that he is unable to bestow 
 on it the decencies of a funeral ; but hopes to appease 
 the ghost of the departed, by rudely strewing over him 
 the sand of the shore. The Greek, though short, is 
 highly expressive of this gloomy solemnity, and deserves 
 to be closely compared with Horace's affecting ode, 
 
 " Te maris et terrse numeroque carentis arenae," &c. 
 
 Ausonius has some pleasing lines on a similar subject, 
 which I have thus paraphrased : 
 
 If, mouldering far o'er distant seas, 
 The unburied corse is doom'd to lie, 
 
 Yet may some pious rites appease 
 The spirit sadly wandering by. 
 
 Call'd by a friend's or brother's voice, 
 And honour'd with an empty pile, 
 
 Yet may the weary ghost rejoice, 
 And grace our orgies with a smile. 
 
 Tho' to the funeral urn denied, 
 Thus shall his ashes rest in peace ; 
 " And every sad complaint subside, 
 
 And every mournful murmur cease." M. 
 
318 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Thus also iEneas addresses the unhappy spirit of his 
 friend Deiphobus ; 
 
 I heard the fame that, on Troy's fatal night, 
 Tired with the labours of a glorious fight, 
 Some honourable wound thy corse had laid 
 Prone on the bleeding heap's thy hand had made ; 
 An empty tomb on the Rhsetean coast 
 I raised, and loudly thrice invoked thy ghost. 
 Thy name and arms those regions yet retain — 
 But thee among the dead I sought in vain, 
 Till, every rite perform'd, I left the fatal plain, M. 
 
 And thus Ulysses, when flying from the Ciconians, 
 who had slain many of his followers : 
 
 Yet, as we fled, our fellows' rites we paid, 
 And thrice we call'd on each unhappy shade. 
 
 On the subject of lamentations, used at the funerals of 
 the Greeks, our old traveller, Sandys, has a curious pas- 
 sage relative to the modern descendants of that people : 
 " They retain," says he, " in their funeralls, not a little 
 of their ancient and heathen ceremonies. Of old, the 
 nearest in love, or kindred, laid their mouths to theirs 
 to catch ther last breath, and closed the eyes of the 
 dying. 
 
 tc His body her's embraced, and, all dismaied, 
 Between his lips her cleaving soul convaied, 
 And with his deare hand closed her dying eyes." 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 319 
 
 " Being dead, they washed the bodies with sweet 
 oyles, crowned them with garlands of flowers, and 
 clothed them, as they now do, in the richest apparel. 
 The manner of their lamentations, of old, may appear 
 from this ludicrous threne of a father, following the 
 exequies of his son, in Lucian, c Oh, my sweet son ! thou 
 art lost, thou art dead before thy day, and has left me 
 behind, of men most miserable ! not experienced in the 
 pleasures of a wife, the comfort of children, warfare, 
 husbandry ; not attained to maturity. Henceforth, oh 
 my son ! thou shalt not eate, nor love, nor get drunke 
 among thine equals/ And, although these ethnicke 
 lamentations, reproved in Scripture, were prohibited by 
 the Athenian law-givers, the civil law, and, lastly by the 
 Venetians, yet still the Grecians doe use them." 
 
 f{ Euphemius slumbers in this hallow } d ground" 
 
 p. 290. 
 
 For this, and the two succeeding translations, I am 
 indebted to my friend, Mr. Hugh Stuart Boyd, who has 
 published the first of them in his Selections from the 
 Works of Chrysostom, Gregory, and Basil, already 
 referred to. He there informs us that, " these epigrams 
 or inscriptions were, with many others, discovered by the 
 learned Muratori, and published by him in his Anecdota. 
 They are tire more interesting, because they evince the 
 versatility, as well as the elegance, of Nazianzen's 
 genius." Third edition, p. 32 1 . 
 
320 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Grieve not, Philcenis, though condemn! d to die*' 
 
 p. 291. 
 
 u In mulierem iEgyptiam," says Jacobs, ee a fato in 
 Cret& oppressam. Poeta earn consolatur quod non in 
 patria sepulturam nacta sit." 
 
 " Of what importance is it," asks Aristippus, (Stob. 
 Flor. 38.) " where you die, seeing that every where the 
 road to Hades is the same ?" Many similar passages may 
 be collected with little pains. 
 
 " Here sleeps a Daughter by the Mother's side" 
 
 p. 292. 
 So Polyxena is made by Euripides to say, 
 
 u You give me to the Gods — then give me free ! 
 Free let me die ; nor let a royal maid 
 Blush, 'mongst the dead, to hear the name of slave." 
 
 Potter, Hecuba, 550. 
 
 It is probable, (observes Jacobs) that many parallel 
 actions to that winch is here recorded, were per- 
 formed at this celebrated destruction of Corinth ; Pau- 
 sanias and Aurelius Victor relate the exploit of Diaeus, 
 praetor of the Achaean league, who, after a victory 
 obtained by the Romans over his army, returned to his 
 house, set fire to it with his own hands, and destroyed 
 his wife, together with himself, in the conflagration. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 321 
 
 " By years and misery ivorn." p. 291. 
 
 This Epigram has been differently ascribed, to Calli- 
 machus, and to Simonides ; but without sufficient foun- 
 dation in either case. It seems to have been composed 
 on a poor old man, who, when perishing with cold and 
 hunger, laid himself down in a ditch, or in a cave, and 
 died. There is not reason enough to imagine that he pre- 
 pared his grave with his own hands, in any other sense 
 than this. 
 
 a Think not, whoe'er thou art, my fate severe" p. 292. 
 
 Webster, in " The White Devil, or Vittoria Corom- 
 bona," has finely contrasted the easy and happy death 
 here described, with the last pangs of a murdered tyrant: 
 
 " Oh, thou soft natural Death ! that art joint-twin 
 To sweetest slumber ! No rough-bearded comet 
 Glares on thy mild departure : the dull owl 
 Beats not against thy casement : the hoarse wolf 
 Scents not thy carrion : pity winds thy corse^ 
 While horror waits on princes." 
 
 This Epigram of Carphylides has been conjectured to 
 relate to the happy death of Q. Metellus, recorded by 
 Paterculus. But Jacobs, with laudable industry, has 
 collected the circumstances which render this supposi- 
 tion improbable, or rather (in his opinion) set it entirely 
 out of the question. 
 
 Y 
 
322 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 u Hail, universal Mother ! Lightly rest" p. 293. 
 
 The request, contained in this little Epigram, that the 
 earth might lie light upon the bones of the deceased, is 
 of very remote origin, and so often occurs, both among 
 ancient and modern poets, that it would be absurd to 
 think of collecting all the instances in which the senti- 
 ment recurs. 
 
 Martial is thought to have had Meleager in view 
 when he writes on a young maiden who died in the 
 prime of life. 
 
 u Mollia nee rigidus cespes tegat ossa, nee illi, 
 Terra, gravis fueris ; non fuit ilia tibi." 
 
 This is the reverse of the well known English Epigram 
 ©n Sir John Vanbrugh, the builder of Blenheim : 
 
 (( Lie heavy on him, Earth ! for he 
 Laid many a heavy load on thee." 
 
 Martial again plays on the same sentiment, in his 
 epitaph on a boy, who exercised, with great skill and 
 dexterity, the profession of a barber : 
 
 " Sic licet inde sibi tellus placata levisque ; 
 Artiflcis levior non potes -esse manu." 
 
 The satirical parody, contained in the succeeding 
 Epigram of Ammianus, would more properly have 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 323 
 
 belonged to a future division of my work ; but its con- 
 nexion, both with the former poem and with these 
 remarks, determined me to place it where it is. 
 
 " Oh, think not that, with garlands crown* d" p. 295. 
 
 There may appear, at first sight, some contradiction in 
 the half weeping, half smiling, eyes of those who cele- 
 brated the funeral of a hero. The immediate relatives 
 might have been wholly absorbed in sorrow for a private 
 loss ; but his countrymen, to whom he was known only 
 as their champion, wept not for the man, but for the 
 patriot: their sorrow, therefore, was forgotten, or alle- 
 viated by their pride. His death was glorious, and his 
 funeral a pageant. The parents of those Spartan heroes 
 who had died in fight, were congratulated by their inti- 
 mates, and returned thanks in their temples to the God 
 of Battles. By this it is not implied that they were 
 destitute of the feelings of parents. The funeral solem- 
 nities were grand and gloomy. The real feelings were 
 suppressed, and smothered in the sound of instruments, 
 and the apparatus of banquetting. Similar rites were 
 observed among barbarous nations ; after the battle of 
 Chalons, which terminated in the retreat of Attila and 
 his Huns, Gibbon writes, " The body of Theodoric, 
 pierced with honourable wounds, was discovered under 
 a heap of slain ; his subjects bewailed the death of their 
 
324 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 king and father; but their tears were mingled with 
 songs and acclamations, and his funeral rites were per- 
 formed in the face of the enemy," The funeral of Attila 
 is strongly coloured. " His body was solemnly exposed 
 in the midst of the plain, under a silken pavillion, and 
 the chosen squadrons of the Huns, wheeling round in 
 measured evolutions, chanted a funeral song to the 
 memory of a hero, glorious in his life, invincible in his 
 death ; the father of his people, the scourge of his 
 enemies, and the terror of the world : the spoils of 
 nations were thrown into his grave ; the captives who 
 had opened the ground were inhumanly massacred; and 
 the same Huns, who had indulged such excessive grief, 
 feasted with dissolute and intemperate mirth about the 
 recent sepulchre of their king." 
 
 The extravagant expressions of sorrow and of joy are 
 usual, at this day, among the wild Irish, on the death of 
 relatives. 
 
 Without departing from the sense of the original 
 fragment, as preserved by Stobaeus, I have endeavoured 
 to make of it a song or hymn, supposed to be sung over 
 the body of a hero who has been slain in fight. It is 
 quoted by Potter, together with the preceding Epigram 
 by Leonidas, as illustrative of the funeral and honours 
 paid to the dead by the Greeks. " The next ceremony 
 to that of anointing and perfuming the dead body, was 
 the bedecking it with chaplets of flowers and green 
 boughs. Plutarch reports that Philopcemen's relics 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 325 
 
 were attended by captives in chains, and his urn so 
 covered with ribands and chaplets, that scarce any part 
 of it was to be seen. This ceremony was designed to 
 express the unmixed and never-fading pleasures the dead 
 were to enjoy upon the removal out of this painful and 
 troublesome world ; for garlands were an emblem of 
 mirth and pleasantness, and therefore usually worn at 
 banquets and festivals." Notwithstanding the melan- 
 choly gloom which the ancients cast over all their ideas 
 of death and the grave, both in their moral and poetical 
 writings, they appear, in reality, to have endeavoured as 
 much as possible to lighten those impressions, and place 
 at a distance those dark phantoms of the imagination. 
 Accordingly, the deep and solemn sadness attending our 
 Gothic burials, the black shades of yews and cypresses, 
 the dreary eharnel house, and the vaulted sepulchre, the 
 terrific appendages of mouldering bones and winding 
 sheets, 
 
 " The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave, 
 The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm," 
 
 which, from custom, form so great a part of the horror 
 we feel at the thoughts of death, were to them unknown. 
 The corse consumed by funeral fires, and the ashes 
 inclosed in urns and deposited in the earth, presented 
 no offensive object or idea. Besides, to dissipate the 
 sorrows of the living, or perhaps with a desire to gratify 
 the spirit of the dead, wines were poured, and flowers 
 
/ 
 326 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 scattered over the grave. These last pious offices were 
 called Epcores, the grateful tributes of love and venera- 
 tion. The manes of the deceased, still wandering about 
 the place of interment, might perhaps partake of the 
 libation or enjoy the odour. At least, his memory would 
 be honoured, and his ghost delighted. 
 
 Whatever may have been the original purpose of 
 these ceremonies, we find repeated allusions to them in 
 the poets. Anacreon mentions the rose as being parti- 
 cularly grateful. u The rose (he says) is pleasant to 
 the sick, and delightful to the dead." 
 
 The tomb of Achilles was adorned with the amaranth. 
 Electra complains that her father's grave had never been 
 decked with myrtle boughs. Anacreon, in another 
 passage, alludes still more forcibly and beautifully to 
 the same custom : * 
 
 " Why do we precious ointments shower, 
 
 Nobler wines why do we pour, 
 
 Beauteous flowers why do we shed, 
 
 Upon the monuments of the dead ? 
 
 Nothing they but dust can shew, 
 
 Or bones that hasten to be so. 
 
 Crown me with roses while I live, 
 
 Now your wines and ointments give ; 
 
 After death I nothing crave : 
 
 Let me alive my pleasures have ; 
 
 All are stoics in the grave." 
 
 Cowley. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 327 
 
 Banquets were sometimes offered on the tombs of the 
 departed. Mercury is highly indignant, in Lucian, at 
 the idea that he should be obliged to conduct back the 
 ghosts to supper — " I should have nothing else to do 
 but go backwards and forwards." Contemplantes, 
 
 Hence we may collect that offerings of this nature 
 were made with a view of gratifying the deceased ; and 
 it seems to have been a very prevailing notion among 
 many people besides the Greeks, that men after death 
 retain the same passions and appetites that distinguished 
 them when living. 
 
 <( Quae gratia currus 
 Armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes 
 Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos." 
 
 They who, alive, delighted in the car, 
 Or loved to train the glossy steed to war, 
 When now transported to a happier plain, 
 Their former pleasures after death retain. M. 
 
 The truth is, that, in their thoughts and reflections on 
 the grave, mankind have ever had in view some idea of 
 a consciousness that remains and lingers yet around the 
 u pleasing anxious" solicitudes and scenes of the exist- 
 ence that is past. They have ever imagined to them- 
 selves a spirit after death, that busied itself in protecting 
 the fame and character of their lives, that was yet sen- 
 sible of slights or honours paid to the grosser mass from 
 
328 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 which it had escaped; and the delicate Tibullus suffers 
 himself to be so far led away by these ideas, that he has 
 prescribed the very mode of burial, and the persons 
 whom he wishes to appear as mourners at his funeral 
 pile. 
 
 And when, a slender shade, I shall aspire 
 From smouldering embers and the funeral fire, 
 May sad Neaera to my pile repair, 
 With tears (how precious !) and unbraided hair, 
 Mix'd with a mother's sighs her sorrows pour, 
 And one a husband, one a child deplore \ 
 With words of fond regret and broken sigh 
 Please the poor shade that hovering lingers nigh, 
 With pious rites my cherishM bones adorn, 
 (The last sad remnant of the man they mourn), 
 Nor spare my thirsting ashes to enshrine, 
 With purest milk bedew'd and purple wine ; 
 And dry the shower by soft affection shed, 
 Or ere they place them in their marble bed. 
 In that sad house may every fragrance stored, 
 That warm Assyria's perfumed meads afford, 
 And grief, from memory's tearful fount that flows, 
 Soothe my charm 'd spirit, and my bones compose. B. 
 
 * Tib. lib. iii. el. 2. 
 
 From this supposition, that a consciousness of delight 
 and pain from the things in the world remained after 
 death, arose two opposite customs. The first, of refusing 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 329 
 
 the usual obsequies to those who were hated in life; 
 which was considered not merely as a slight to the 
 memory of the dead, but as an actual revenge inflicted 
 on him for his crimes, which his spirit was yet capable 
 of feeling deeply. To lie unburied, oSutttos sxTwrTeiv 
 X$°MS) was the bitterest imprecation that could be pro- 
 nounced. Of such importance was the rite of burial, 
 that the Antigone, one of the most deeply interesting of 
 Grecian Dramas, is founded entirely on the piety of a 
 sister, who interred her brother contrary to a decree of 
 his enemies. The second is the ancient usage, in many 
 countries, of gratifying those who had been esteemed, 
 by burying with them the arms and horses in which they 
 delighted ; and in some places, the very friends and rela- 
 tives, in whose society they found enjoyment, were sent 
 down to the grave to bear them company. It is curious 
 to trace the same habits among people so remote from 
 each other as Persia and the new world ; yet the sun, 
 which is the object of adoration to the Persian, is equally 
 the god of the Peruvian ; and the dreadful solemnity of 
 burying with the princes their relatives and friends, was 
 common to the two extremes of the east and west. On a 
 plot originating from this rite, Diphilus is said to have 
 written a comedy called ^wonroQvrpxovlES) " The Comrades 
 in Death." To be witty on such a subject, must have 
 required no ordinary degree of talent. 
 
 The Grecian custom of making offerings of fruit and 
 wine on the tombs of the deceased, or the supper of 
 
330 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Hecate (as it is called), is mentioned, in the history of 
 the Buccaneers, to have been religiously observed by the 
 islanders of Gracias de Dios ; and is described, by the 
 rude author, to have been common to all the Caribbee 
 tribes. " It is usual that when the man dieth, his wife 
 burieth him with all his azagayas, aprons, and jewels, 
 that he used to wear at his ears. Her next obligation is 
 to come every day to her husband's grave, bringing him 
 meat and drink for a whole year together." 
 
 The heroes of Ossian, ie if we may indulge the 
 pleasing delusion that Fingal fought and that Ossian 
 sung," have no access to the abodes of happiness until 
 their deeds be celebrated by a, bard. Until that rite be 
 performed, they are doomed to hover about gloomy and 
 discontented, to haunt the caves and halls which they 
 inhabited in life, to cross the journeyer in his way by 
 night, and breathe horror wherever they appear. 
 
 Many of the customs above alluded to remained 
 modes of expression to the English, even after the cus- 
 toms themselves were lost. They are to be found in 
 scattered passages throughout Shakspeare. Arviragus, in 
 Cymbeline, when mourning over the supposed corse of 
 Fidele, makes a beautiful allusion to those rites : 
 
 <c With fairest flowers 
 While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
 I'll sweeten thy sad grave — thou shalt not lack 
 The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 33t 
 
 The azured harebell like thy veins, no, nor 
 The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander 
 Out-sweeten'd not thy breath," &c. 
 
 And Belarius, before they take leave of her for ever, 
 promises to return at midnight, and strew the body 
 afresh, 
 
 " Here's a few flowers, but about midnight more ; 
 The herbs that have on them cold dews o'the night 
 Are strewings fit'st for graves.'"' 
 
 Gray has not forgotten these strewings on the grave 
 of his rustic. Few stanzas in his Elegy will vie with 
 that which he persuaded himself to reject: 
 
 " There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, 
 By hands unseen, are show'rs of violets found, 
 The redbreast loves to build and warble there, 
 And little footsteps lightly print the ground." 
 
 Annexed to this custom, it is natural to expect a 
 superstition that attached certain virtues to particular 
 plants. Thus the amaranth was held in great esteem 
 for its supposed power of frequently recalling the wan- 
 dering thought to one beloved object. Rosemary had 
 the character, among our forefathers, of preserving the 
 memory of those whom they esteemed, whether divided 
 from them by great distances or different pursuits in 
 life, or torn away by death. " Here's rosemary," says 
 Ophelia, " that's for remembrance." 
 
332 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Anacreon, as it has been shewn, recommends roses to 
 the sick. They are the emblems of sweetness, gaiety, 
 and life ; and were, of course, intended by the volup- 
 tuous bard to divert the mind drooping and enfeebled by 
 a lingering illness. By a strange, and certainly casual 
 coincidence, Rousseau has actually decorated the cham- 
 ber of his dying Heloise with these symbols of pleasure : 
 she is surrounded by pots of flowers and garden shrubs, 
 and declines, and dies, encircled by their fragrance. 
 
 " Thou art not dead, my Rosa, tho' no more" p. 296. 
 
 Most of the reliques of Grecian poetry, which we 
 possess, are (as has been before observed,) to the highest 
 degree gloomy and melancholy, whenever they touch on 
 the mournful subjects of death and the grave. There are, 
 nevertheless, a few (and this poem is among the num- 
 ber), which present us with brighter prospects, and bring 
 us nearer to the Elysium described by the more cheerful 
 poets of Italy ; particularly by Virgil, in his 6th book, 
 and by Tibullus, in that exquisitely beautiful passage, 
 which our old traveller Sandys has thus, not unpoeti- 
 cally, rendered : 
 
 <( Love shall conduct me to the Elysian fields. 
 There songs and dances revel ; choice birds fly 
 From tree to tree, warbling sweet melody. 
 The wild shrubs bring forth cassia ; every where 
 The bounteous soyle doth fragrant roses bear ; 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 333 
 
 \ Youths intermixt with maydes disport at ease, 
 Encountering still in love's sweet skirmishes." 
 
 But the peculiar turn of expression reminds us more 
 closely of a passage in Shakspeare's " TitusAndronicus.' 
 
 <e In peace and honour rest you here, my sons ! 
 Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, 
 Secure from worldly chances and mishaps ! 
 Here lurks no treason ; here no envy swells ; 
 Here grow no damned grudges ; here no storms, 
 No noise ; but silence and eternal sleep. 
 In peace and honour rest you here, my sons !" 
 
 " No more, sweet Orpheus, shalt thou lead along,'* 
 
 p. 297. 
 ({ What could the muse herself, that Orpheus bore, 
 The muse herself for her enchanted son ?" 
 
 Milton's Lycidas. 
 
 The expression, " tuneful tear," may be defended by 
 the " melodious tear" of Milton, which occurs in the 
 same poem. 
 
 To Orpheus was attributed the power of averting or 
 counteracting the influence of wind, hail, and snow, 
 probably from the works on the subject of natural philo- 
 sophy, which he is recorded to have composed. 
 
 With reference to the concluding couplet, compare 
 Horace iv. 7« 
 
334 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ce Infernis neque enim tenebris," &c. 
 
 Not e'en the huntress of the silver bow, 
 Who made the chaste Hippolytus her care, 
 Could bring his spirit from the shades below ; 
 Nor Theseus, arm' d with force immortal, tear 
 His loved Pirithoiis from the triple chain 
 That bound his soul to that infernal plain. % 
 
 So Martial, in his epigram on the mausoleum of 
 Augustus, which, in another place, I have paraphrased : 
 
 " Numina cum videas duris obnoxia fatis, 
 Invidiam possis exonerare deos." 
 
 " Grmv, clustering Ivy, where Anacreonlies" p. 297. 
 
 Let not the reader fastidiously object to the term 
 " purple meadows/' Ovid has u the purple hills of 
 Hymettus." Purple was, by the ancients, considered as 
 the sovereign of colours, and generally applied to the 
 most beautiful or splendid objects in the creation. 
 Hence, " Ver purpureum." — Hence also " the purple 
 light of love." So, as Delia Cerda observes, in his notes 
 on Virgil, purple flowers mean the fairest flowers of all 
 colours. Both this, and the succeeding epitaph on So- 
 phocles, may, however, be supposed to refer only to the 
 decorations of sculpture usually placed on the tombs of 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 335 
 
 poets and philosophers. The author of " Horse Ionicfe" 
 has happily availed himself of the same idea, in his lines 
 on the supposed tomb of Cicero, in the island of Zante : 
 
 " Hail to the sacred spot, whose bosom gave, 
 Immortal Tully, thine inglorious grave ! 
 Yet why inglorious ? Though no mortal guest 
 Sigh'd o'er thy turf, or bade thine ashes rest, 
 While undistinguish'd here thy relics slept, 
 Beside thine humble grave the Muses wept ; 
 In heavenly strains thy hallow'd requiem sung, 
 And o'er thy tomb the votive chaplet flung; 
 By fancy wreathed with flowers of brightest hue, 
 Yet freshly glittering with Castalian dew, 
 And mingled ivy-bud^ in clusters brown, 
 And virtue's palm, and wisdom's olive crown." 
 
 " Thy grave no purple clusters rise to grace" p. 298. 
 
 The reputation of Hipponax principally rests on a 
 certain copy of verses, which he is recorded to have 
 composed in revenge of an insult offered him by two 
 unhappy sculptors, who had ridiculed the shortness of 
 his stature, and the deformity of his person. It is further 
 related by some ancient authors, although denied by 
 Pliny, that the severity of his retort so stung the miser- 
 able culprits, as to drive them to the commission of 
 suicide ; and Bayle has made this story (Art. Hipponax) 
 the foundation of a long and entertaining note to illus- 
 
336 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 /trate his position, that iC il ne seroit ni le premier, ni le 
 seul qui auroit fait mourir des gens par des invectives." 
 If we were to listen to common report, and the melan- 
 choly tales told by some angry booksellers and senti- 
 mental authors, the fatal list has been greatly augmented 
 since his days. The u Genus irritabile" is well known 
 to have existed from the very commencement of letters ; 
 though the world takes a malignant pleasure in ridi- 
 culing rather tb°n condoling with them on their 
 sufferings. A very entertaining instance of this quality 
 of genius, and which may serve "" as some relief to the 
 tragic turn of the anecdote of Hipponax, occurs in the 
 character given by Grimm, in his correspondence, of the 
 once celebrated chemist Rouelle. Among his other sin- 
 gularities, he entertained the most extreme jealousy of 
 all his contemporaries in science ; and conceiving that 
 they made no scruple of borrowing his thoughts and 
 observations without acknowledgment, revenged himself 
 of their ingratitude by pouring forth all manner of 
 invectives against them at his public lectures, always 
 winding up his string of hard names to the acme of vitu- 
 peration, by the appellation " des plagiaires" " At 
 last," continues our amusing writer, tt ^indignation des 
 plagiats qu'il avoit soufferts degenera en manie." He 
 could actually find no other term sufficiently strong to 
 express his horror at the most atrocious crimes; and one 
 day, speaking in company of the assassination of 
 Louis XV. which had then been recently attempted by 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 337 
 
 Damien, and meaning to impress his hearers most 
 forcibly with a sense of his loyal execration of the attempt, 
 he said (i que c etait un plagiaire !" 
 
 u Pluto, receive the Sage, whose ghost" p. 227. 
 
 The well known epigram on Rabelais is a manifest 
 improvement of this simple thought : 
 
 w Pluton, prince du noir empire 
 Ou les tiens ne rient jamais, 
 Recois aujourd'hui Rabelais, 
 Et les tiens auront de quoi rire." 
 
 The contrary systems of this celebrated laughing phi- 
 losopher, and of his weeping rival, are happily moralized 
 by Prior: 
 
 " Democritus, dear droll, revisit earth, 
 
 And with our follies glut thy heighten'd mirth ! 
 Sad Heraclitus, serious wretch, return, 
 In louder grief our greater crimes to mourn ! 
 Between you both, I unconcern' d stand by ; 
 Hurt, can I laugh ? and honest, need I cry ?" 
 
 <e Few were thy notes, Erinna, short thy fame." 
 
 p. 297. 
 
 This fair contemporary of Sappho has been usually 
 called her countrywoman, though there are doubts re- 
 specting the real place of her birth. It is certain that 
 
 Z 
 
338 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 some degree of melancholy always accompanies our ad- 
 miration of premature genius, or of extraordinary sensi- 
 bility in early youth. The thread of life seems too finely 
 drawn to last ; and we generally anticipate the speedy 
 loss of so much loveliness and sweetness. Such was the 
 fate of the beautiful Erinna. A poetess from her cradle, 
 during the short space of eighteen years she was appa- 
 rently occupied only in those domestic concerns which, 
 in that age, were the universal employments of the 
 high-born, as w T ell as of the cottage maiden. She 
 courted neither fame nor honour, but the Muses them- 
 selves descended upon her, and inspired her soul with 
 raptures unknown to her laborious companions. The 
 concluding thought of this Epigram has been adopted by 
 Lucretius, iv. 182. 
 
 " Parvus ut est cycni melior canor, ille gruum quam, 
 Clamor, in aetheriis dispersus nubibus austri." 
 
 But what have I said ? I have supposed a young fe- 
 male inspired with the rapture of poetry. The transition 
 from verse to music is immediate, and one step more 
 leads us to dancing. — " Ay, marry, to profane dancing" 
 —and then where are we ? A French author, whom I 
 translate, passes the following comments on a severe but 
 mistaken female moralist of his own country : " For my 
 own part, I very much fear that all these little saints, who 
 are compelled to pass their infancy in devotion, will pass 
 their youth in a far different occupation, and will make 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 339 
 
 amends, after marriage, for the lost time before it." He 
 even goes so far, as to deny that a young girl should 
 live like her grandmother ; and tells the moralist in 
 question, (i She has laboured so hard to hinder women 
 from becoming amiable, that she has made husbands 
 indifferent." I forget the title of the French lady's 
 work, and therefore shall leave it in asterisks, in the 
 reflections to which its tenets gave birth. 
 
 Lines on reading * * * * 
 By Madame * * * * 
 
 Say, would you learn to keep within, 
 To cloak, but not to conquer sin, 
 That hidden thus, it may take root, 
 Prepared in future day to shoot, 
 To govern well a downcast eye 
 With arrogant humility, 
 To throw away those powerful arms 
 That lend to virtue half her charms, 
 The harp, the voice, the fairy tread, 
 And only learn to cant instead ; 
 To wear a mask with such a grace 
 That all mistake it for your face ; 
 To make false money pass for gold, 
 True coin for counterfeit to hold ; 
 To be all varnish and disguise ?— 
 ~-llead * * * *, Ladies, and be wise. B. 
 
340 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 u Far from Tarentum's native soil I lie. p. 300* 
 
 Ihe dread of exile is greater among all nations, in 
 proportion to the sentiments of patriotism which the 
 spirit of laws and government is calculated to excite and 
 encourage. Among the Greeks it was excessive. It 
 aggravated the fear of death, and deepened the horror 
 of the grave. Nor was the impression confined to the 
 idea of dying in a foreign land, in which many among 
 ourselves would sympathize with them, but it extended 
 to many of their rites and ceremonies, and iheir daily 
 customs. A sacrifice in a foreign city, and an unaccus- 
 tomed temple, was not attended by half the beneficial 
 consequences, not rewarded with half the divine favour 
 which was bestowed in recompense of those pious cares 
 and attentions at their own homes. 
 
 Jocasta, in Euripides, speaks with horror of the mar- 
 riage of her son at Argos. In a most tender conversa- 
 tion, which afterwards takes place between her and that 
 son, when he has returned in disguise to his native city, 
 she strives to console him under the necessary evil of 
 banishment. She tells him that hope is ever present to 
 the mind of the exile : 
 
 A) $s\mfa$ $Q<TKQV<ri Qvyadctg 00$ Koyog, 
 
 To which he answers, in a tone of most natural pathos, 
 
 KaAo/j £hs7rQv<rw o^ot/nr u,ete\ov<ri fa. 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 341 
 
 The present Epigram is supposed to have been written 
 by Leonidas for his own monument. The most affecting 
 lines that Pope ever wrote were suggested by the same 
 idea : r 
 
 u No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear, 
 Pleased thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier ; 
 By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, 
 By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed, 
 By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn' d, 
 By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd !*' 
 
 The mind naturally shrinks from the idea of being at- 
 tended in those last sacred moments by strangers, who 
 with indifferent and tranquil apathy 
 
 fe Wipe the cold dew, and catch the parting sigh/' 
 
 It is an idea still more revolting to our souls, than that 
 which I have before remarked, when commenting on. 
 some beautiful verses of Solon. Even after our death, 
 we wish that our bodies may inhabit some scene which 
 we have loved in our lives. The romantic request of a 
 late nobleman, that he may be conveyed after his death 
 to Switzerland, and interred in a particular spot, which 
 he pointed out to his executors with the greatest minute- 
 ness of description, was made in obedience to a feeling 
 by no means unnatural or uncommon. Sir Thomas 
 Overbury wished that he might lie in some sunny 
 and flowery piece of ground. A similar sentiment is 
 
342 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 expressed by Dr. Beattie, in his Minstrel; and in reading 
 it, I can hardly help supposing that the poet did but put 
 his own wish into the mouth of his hermit. 
 
 " Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down, 
 Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, 
 
 With here and there a violet bestrow'n ; 
 
 Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave, 
 
 And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave !" 
 
 I have before dwelt on ei the pleasing belief that Fingal 
 fought, and that Ossian sung," and would willingly so 
 far indulge it, as to imagine that the beautiful conclusion 
 of the poem of Berrathon, 'was the genuine inspiration 
 of the Gaelic bard. 
 
 " Bend thy blue course, oh stream ! round the narrow 
 plain of Lutha!" 
 
 Oh flow round Lutha's narrow plain, sweet stream, 
 And let the wild woods hanging o'er thee wave, 
 
 And let the sun there shed his warmest gleam, 
 And light winds gently breathe o'er Ossian's grave ! 
 
 At early morn the hunter passing by 
 
 No more shall hear my harp's harmonious fall ; 
 
 Then shall he drop the tender tear, and cry 
 " Where is the tuneful son of great Fingal ?" 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 343 
 
 Then come, Malvina, all thy music yield, 
 
 Let thy soft song once more delight my breast, 
 
 Then raise my tomb in Lutha's narrow field, 
 And lull my dying spirits into rest. 
 
 Where art thou, lovely maid ? Where is thy song ! 
 
 Where are the soft sounds of thy passing feet ? 
 Thou canst not come, nor shall I call thee long, 
 
 Till in my father's airy halls we meet. 
 
 Oh pleasant be thy rest, thou lovely beam ! 
 
 Silent and slow thy peaceful light declined : 
 Like the pale moon upon the trembling stream, 
 
 Soon hast thou set, and left us dark behind. 
 
 We sit around the rock — but there no more 
 Thy voice remains to soothe, thy light to cheer : 
 
 Soon hast thou set on our deserted shore, 
 
 And left us all in gloomy darkness here ! M. 
 
 Leonidas lived in the days of Pyrrhus, king of Epirus^ 
 and appears to have been one of the captives made by 
 that prince in his war on the Tarentines. It was pro- 
 bably during his consequent banishment from his native 
 country, that he composed for himself this pathetic 
 epitaph. 
 
344 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 t€ This stone records Megistias* honoured name.'* 
 
 p. 301. 
 
 There were, at least, three ancient poets called Simo- 
 nides. It would otherwise be difficult to account for 
 the various styles of the poems preserved to us under 
 that name. The elegiac poet must be carefully distin- 
 guished from the satirist (who wrote a long sarcastic 
 poem against women), and perhaps also from the pa- 
 triotic author of epitaphs, and other inscriptions,, who 
 composed this and the following, among a great 
 number of other poems of the same nature. Megis- 
 tias was a soothsayer in the little army of Leonidas. 
 The Epigram explains his story. The next which 
 follows, on Archedice, the daughter of Hippias, pre- 
 sents a striking picture of the simplicity and severity 
 of manners which distinguished the ancient republics. 
 Both are preserved by Herodotus, who has also trans- 
 mitted to us the succeeding inscription on those who 
 fell at Thermopylae." 
 
 " If this inscriptive pVlar vassing hy" p. 303. 
 
 This imaginary epitaph on Tirnon the misanthrope, 
 savage as it is, presents not so gloomy, because not so 
 natural, a picture of his mind as that which Plutarch 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 345 
 
 has transmitted to us in a distich, which he asserts to 
 have been composed by himself : 
 
 EvSoS 1 wiroppifects ^wptfjv @ctpv§otifx.ovx xsijxai" 
 
 " Placed by the sons of Inachus, I stand" p. 303. 
 
 Under the reign of Crotopus, king of Argos, it is re- 
 lated that his daughter, Psamathe, was delivered of a 
 male child, whom she had conceived by Apollo ; and 
 that, in order to conceal her fault from her father, she 
 exposed the infant, who was torn in pieces by the royal 
 sheep-dogs. In consequence of this event, Apollo sent 
 among the Argives the fiend named Poena, IIoji/>j, (one of 
 the Furies, Dea Poenarum exactrix), to tear away young 
 children from the arms of their mothers ; which fiend 
 Coroebus, moved by compassion for the misery of the 
 people, afterwards slew. The anger of the God did not, 
 however, abate ; and a grievous pestilence succeeding 
 to the ravages of the monster, Coroebus consulted the 
 Oracle at Delphi, in what manner he should make 
 amends to the offended deity for the death of his mi- 
 nister. He was here directed not to return to his native 
 country ; but, carrying with him one of the sacred tri- 
 pods, to build a temple to Apollo on the spot which 
 should be pointed out to him, by the tripod falling from 
 his hands. It fell on Mount Geranius ; and on that 
 
346 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 spot the temple was accordingly erected, and a town 
 afterwards founded, with the name Tripodiscus. The 
 tomb of CorcebuS is in the public square of Megara; 
 and on it is inscribed, in elegiac verses, the record of 
 the preceding history, The emblem engraved on the 
 monument represents Coroebus in the act of slaying the 
 Fury. Pausanias, Attica, c. 43. 
 
 Statius introduces Polynices as visiting Argos at the 
 time of the celebration of games, instituted in remem- 
 brance of these events ; and Adrastus, king of Argos, 
 relates their origin to the wandering hero. The descrip- 
 tion of the Fury is very poetical. The following is Pope's 
 version of the passage in which it occurs : 
 
 " Touch'd with sorrow for the dead too late, 
 
 The raging God prepares t'avenge her fate. 
 He sends a monster, horrible and fell, 
 Begot by Furies in the depths of hell. 
 The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears ; 
 High on a crown a rising snake appears, 
 Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs : 
 About the realm she walks her dreadful round, 
 When nighty with sable wing, o'erspreads the ground, 
 Devours young babes before their parents' eyes, 
 And feeds and thrives on public miseries." 
 
 M. Chardon de la Rochette has also given, us this 
 Epigram, together with some valuable observations, 
 
SEPULCHRAL. 34? 
 
 which the reader may consult in the Melanges de Cri- 
 tique, &c. torn. i. p. 95. 
 
 <e Oh thou, who sleep'st in brazen slumber, tell. 9 ' 
 
 p. 304. 
 
 This epitaph is called " anonymous 1 ' in the first 
 Aldine edition, was rejected by Henry Stephens, and 
 has been omitted in all the subsequent Anthologies and 
 Analecta. It appears, however, among the Epigrams 
 of John Lascaris, annexed to the Bale edition of Poly- 
 bius de re militari (1557), and the style, as well as the 
 subject, is sufficient, in M. Chardon de la Rochette's 
 opinion, to vindicate its genuineness. It evidently 
 refers to the taking of Constantinople by the Turks. I 
 have used some trifling liberties with the original, prin- 
 cipally with a view of rendering its effect more simple. 
 See the " Melanges de Critique et de Philologie," 
 torn, u p. 244. 
 

DE S CR IPTIVE 
 

 
DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Meleager, 110. i. 31. 
 THE RETURN OE SPRING. IN GREECE. B. 
 
 Hush'd is the howl of winter)? breezes wild; 
 The purple hour of youthful spring has smiled : 
 A livelier verdure clothes the teeming earth ; 
 Buds press to life, rejoicing in their birth ; 
 The laughing meadows drink the dews of nigh*, 
 And, fresh with opening roses, glad the sight : 
 In song the joyous swains responsive vie ; 
 Wild music floats, and mountain melody. 
 
 Adventurous seamen spread the embosomed sail 
 O'er waves light heaving to the western gale ; 
 While village youths their brows with ivy twine, 
 And hail with song the promise of the vine. 
 
 In curious cells the bees digest their spoil, 
 When vernal sunshine animates their toil, 
 And little birds, in warblings sweet and clear, 
 Salute thee, Mai a, loveliest of the year : 
 Thee, on their deeps, the tuneful halcyons hail, 
 In streams the swan, in woods the nightingale. 
 
352 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 If earth rejoices,, with new verdure gay, 
 And shepherds pipe, and flocks exulting play, 
 And sailors roam, and Bacchus leads his throng, 
 And bees to toil, and birds awake to song, 
 Shall the glad bard be mute in tuneful spring, 
 And, warm with love and joy, forget to sing ? 
 
 Leonidas, 57. i. 235. 
 THE RETURN OF SPRING TO SAILORS. B, 
 
 Haste to the port ! the twittering swallow calls 
 Again return'd ; the wintery breezes sleep; 
 The meadows laugh ; and warm the zephyr falls 
 On ocean's breast, and calms the fearful deep. 
 
 Now spring your cables, loiterers ; spread your sails ; 
 O'er the smooth surface of the waters roam ! 
 So shall your vessel glide with friendly gales, 
 And, fraught with foreign treasure, waft you home. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT ENLARGED. M. 
 
 With rapid prow the buoyant vessels glide, 
 And cut the glassy surface of the tide, 
 The glassy surface, white with foam no more, 
 But smoothly flowing to the level shore ; 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 353 
 
 Or, settled in a deep and calm repose, 
 Unruffled by the breeze, that scarcely blows. 
 For now the swallow's voice, heard faintly clear, 
 Spring's gracious zephyr, wafts along the air ; 
 Beneath the pent-house roofs' embowering shade, 
 The amorous bird her clay-built nest has laid, 
 Securely guarded for her callow brood ; 
 The cricket has his merry song renew'd; 
 And early foliage burst thro' every grove, 
 And roses open to the touch of love. 
 Now set your anchors free ; spread every sail, 
 And loose your cordage to the friendly gale ; 
 Quit, quit the port, where the long winter's day 
 Has past inglorious, unimproved, away ! 
 Now tempt afresh the fortune of the wave, 
 Seek other shores, and new adventures brave ! 
 So may the Gods of trade reward your toil 
 With every bounty, shower'd on every soil ; 
 And guide your barks triumphant o'er the main, 
 Laden with plenty, to their homes again. 
 
 Ibycus, In Athenceus. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF SPRING. M. 
 
 What time soft zephyrs of the balmy May, 
 First o'er the rich Cydonian gardens play, 
 Aa 
 
354 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 (Immortal gardens ! where the Cretan fair, . 
 Midst blooming bowers, perpetual fragrance share) 
 With warmer hues the blushing apples glow, 
 Fed by the fruitful streams that round them flow; 
 And new-born clusters swell with future wine 
 Beneath the shadowy foliage of the vine. 
 Alas ! to me the vernal season brings 
 But added torture on his sunny wings ! 
 For Love, the earliest tyrant df my breast, 
 Impetuous banisher of joy and rest, 
 Bursts like a torrent from his mother's arms, 
 And fills my trembling soul with new alarms. 
 Like Boreas, rushing from his Thracian plains, 
 Clothed in fierce lightnings and o'erwhelming rains, 
 So rages in my soul the maddening power ; 
 His parching fires my withering heart devour : 
 A burning phrensy comes my senses o'er, 
 Sweet peace is fled, and reason is no more. 
 
 UylU 5. 
 MOSCHUS. M. 
 
 O'er the smooth main, when scarce a zephyr blows 
 To break the dark-blue ocean's deep repose, 
 I seek the calmness of the breathing shore, 
 Delighted with the fields and woods no more. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 355 
 
 But when, white-foaming, heave the deeps on high, 
 Swells the black storm, and mingles sea with sky, 
 Trembling, I fly the wild tempestuous strand, 
 And seek the close recesses of the land. 
 Sweet are the sounds that murmur thro' the wood 
 While roaring storms upheave the dang'rous flood; 
 Then, if the winds more fiercely howl 3 they rouse 
 But sweeter music in the pine's tall boughs. 
 Hard is the life the weary fisher finds 
 Who trusts his floating mansion to the winds, 
 Whose daily food the fickle sea maintains, 
 Unchanging labour, and uncertain gains. 
 Be mine soft sleep, beneath the spreading shade 
 Of some broad leafy plane inglorious laid, 
 Lull'd by a fountain's fall, that, murmuring near, 
 Soothes, not alarms, the toil worn labourer's ear. 
 
 LeomdaSf 39. i. 230. 
 INSCRIPTION ON TllE BANKS OF A RIVER. B, 
 
 Not here, O thirsty traveller, stoop to drink, 
 
 The sun has warm'd, and flocks disturb'd the brink ; 
 
 But climb yon upland where the heifers play, 
 
 Where that tall pine excludes the sultry day ; 
 
 There will you list a bubbling rill that flows 
 
 Down the smooth rock more cold than Thracian snows. 
 
356 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Uncertain, 331. iii. 231. 
 THE ADDRESS OF THE OLIVE TO THE VINE. M 
 
 I am Minerva's sacred plant; 
 
 Press me no more, intruding vine ! 
 Unwreathe your wanton arms ! Avaunt ! 
 
 A modest maiden loves not wine. 
 
 Antiphilusy 12. ii. 172. 
 ON AN ANCIENT OAK. M. 
 
 Hail, venerable boughs, that in mid sky 
 Spread broad and deep your leafy canopy ! 
 Hail, cool refreshing shade, abode most dear 
 To the sun-wearied traveller ^and'ring near ! 
 Hail, close inwoven bow'rs, fit dwelling place 
 For insect tribes and man's imperial race ! 
 Me too reclining in your green retreat 
 Shield from the blazing day's meridian heat. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 357 
 
 Antipater. Anthologia inedita. 
 
 ON A POPLAR. M. 
 
 This plant is sacred. Passenger, beware ! 
 
 From every wound a mortal pang I bear. 
 
 My tender limbs support a virgin rind, 
 
 Not the rude bark that shields the forest kind ; 
 
 And, even in these dark glens and pathless glades 
 
 Their parent Sun protects his poplar Maids. 
 
 Anyte, 6. i. 198. 
 
 ON A GROVE OF LAUREL. M. 
 
 Whoe'er thou art, recline beneath the shade, 
 By never fading leaves of laurel made ; 
 And here awhile* thy thirst securely slake 
 With the pure beverage of the crystal lake : 
 So shall your languid limbs, by toil opprest, 
 And summer's burning heat, find needful rest, 
 And renovation from the balmy power 
 That stirs and breathes within this verdant bower. 
 
358 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Uncertain, 282. iii. 231. 
 
 ON A LAUREL, CUT DOWN WITILA HATCHET. 
 
 M. 
 Ah ! where was Phoebus, when the God of arms 
 
 Dared to profane his Daphne's virgin charms ? 
 
 Paulus, 61. iii. 90. 
 
 GARDEN SCRNERY. B. 
 
 This lovely spot old Ocean laves, 
 And woody coverts fringe the waves : 
 Happy the art that could dispose 
 Whate'er in sea or garden grows, 
 And summon' d to the enchanted land 
 The Nai.ids' and the Nereids' band. 
 
 Paulus, 62. iii. 90. 
 
 ON THE SAME SUBJECT. B. 
 
 Here strive for empire, o'er the happy scene, 
 The nymphs of fountain, sea, and woodland green ; 
 The power of grace and beauty holds the prize 
 Suspended- even to her votaries, 
 And finds amazed, where'er she casts her eye, 
 Their contest forms the matchless harmony. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 359 
 
 Uncertain, 325. iii. 220. 
 
 INSCRIPTION ON A BATH. B. 
 
 Or from this fount, a joyous birth, 
 The Queen of Beauty rose to earth, 
 Or heavenly Venus, bathing, gave 
 Her own quintessence to the wave. 
 
 Marianus, 4. ii. 512. 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 Ogle. 
 As in this fount, Love wash'd the Cyprian dame, 
 His touch the water tinged with subtle flame ; 
 And, while his busy hands his mother lave, 
 Ambrosial dews enrich the silver wave, 
 And all the undulating bason fill ; 
 Such dews as her celestial limbs distill. 
 Hence how delicious float these tepid streams ! 
 What rosy odours ! what nectareous steams ! 
 So pure the water, and so soft the air, 
 Jt seems as if the Goddess still were there. 
 
360 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Antiphanes, 7. ii. 205. 
 ON A FOUNTAIN 
 
 NEAR WHICH A MURDER HAD BEEN COMMITTED. M. 
 
 Erewhile my gentle streams were wont to pour 
 Along their banks a pure translucent tide ; 
 But now their waves are shrunk, and channel dried, 
 And every nymph knows the loved haunt no more ; 
 Since that sad moment when my verdant shore 
 Was with the crimson hue of murder dyed. 
 To cool the sparkling heat of wine we glide, 
 But shrink abhorrent from the stain of gore. 
 
 Simonides, 7. i. 121. 
 THE COMPLAINT OF DANAE. B. 
 
 When the wind, resounding high, 
 Blustered from the northern sky, 
 When the waves, in stronger tide, 
 Dash'd against the vessel's side, 
 Her care-worn cheek with tears bedew'd, 
 Her sleeping infant Dana'e view'd. 
 And trembling still with new alarms, 
 Around him cast a mother's arms. 
 " My child ! what woes does Danae weep ! 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 361 
 
 But thy young limbs are wrapt in sleep. 
 In that poor nook all sad and dark, 
 While lightnings play around our bark, 
 Thy quiet bosom only knows 
 The heavy sigh of deep repose. 
 
 The howling wind, the raging sea, 
 No terror can excite in thee ; 
 The angry surges wake no care 
 That burst above thy long deep hair, 
 But could'st thou feel what I deplore, 
 Then would I bid thee sleep the more ! 
 Sleep on, sweet boy, still be the deep ! 
 Oh could I lull my woes to sleep ! 
 Jove, let thy mighty hand o'erthrow 
 The baffled malice of my foe ; 
 And may this child, in future years, 
 Avenge his mother's wrongs and tears !" 
 
362 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 ON STATUES AND PICTURES. 
 
 Uncertain) Hi. 260. 
 
 ON THE NINE LYRICAL POETS OF GREECE." M, 
 
 O sacred voice of the Pierian choir, 
 
 Immortal Pindar ! O enchanting air 
 Of sweet Bacchylides ! O rapturous lyre, 
 
 Majestic graces, of the Lesbian fair. 
 
 Muse of Anacreon, the gay, the youngs 
 Stesichorus, thy full Homeric stream ! 
 
 Soft elegies by Cea's poet sung ! 
 
 Persuasive Ibycus, thy glowing theme ! 
 
 Sword of Alcaeus, that, with tyrant's gore 
 Gloriously painted, lift'st thy point so high ! 
 
 Ye tuneful nightingales that still deplore 
 Your Alcman, prince of amorous poesy! 
 
 Oh yet impart some breath of heav'nly fire 
 
 To him who venerates the Grecian lyre ! 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 363 
 
 Leonidas, 49. i. 283. 
 
 ON HOMER. H. 
 
 Dim grow the planets, when the God of Day 
 Rolls his swift chariot through the heavenly way. 
 The moon's immortal round, no longer bright, 
 Shrinks in pale terror from the glorious light : 
 Thus, all eclipsed by Homer's wonderous blaze, 
 The crowd of poets hide their lessen'd rays. 
 
 Uncertain^ 521. iii. 260. 
 ON SAPPHO. M. 
 
 Come, Lesbian maids, to Juno's royal dome I 
 With steps that hardly press the pavement, come 1 
 Let your own Sappho lead the lovely choir, 
 And to the altar bear her golden lyre. 
 Then first, in graceful order, slow advance, 
 Weaving light mazes of the joyous dance, 
 While from on high the heav'n-rapt maid shall pour 
 Such strains, that men shall wonder and adore. 
 
364 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Democharis, 4. iii. 71. 
 
 ON THE PICTURE OF SAPPHO. H. 
 
 Nature herself this magic portrait drew, 
 And, Painter ! gave thy Lesbian Muse to view. 
 Light sparkles in her eyes ; and Fancy seems 
 The radiant fountain of those living beams : 
 Through the smooth fulness of the unclouded skin 
 Looks out the clear ingenuous soul within ; 
 Joy melts to fondness in her glistening face, 
 And Love and Music breathe a mingled grace. 
 
 Antiphilus, 20. ii. 174. 
 
 ON THE PICTURE OF MEDEA, BY TIMOMACHUS. 
 
 M. 
 When bold Timomachus essay'd to trace 
 
 The soul's emotions in the varying face, 
 
 With patient thought, and faithful hand, he strove 
 
 To blend with jealous rage maternal love. 
 
 Behold Medea ! Envy must confess 
 
 In both the passions his complete success. 
 
 Tears in each threat— a threat in every tear, 
 
 The mind with pity warm, or chill with fear. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 365 
 
 The dread suspense I praise, the critic cries ; 
 Here all the judgment, all the pathos, lies ; 
 To stain with filial blood the guilty scene 
 Had marr'd the Artist, but became the Queen. 
 
 Uncertain, 562. iii. 269. 
 
 ON THE STATUE OF MENANDER. B. 
 
 Behold Menander ! Siren of the stage, 
 Who charm'd, with love allied, a happier age; 
 Light wanton wreathes, that never shall be dead, 
 Are curFd luxuriant round the poet's head, 
 Who dress'd the scene in colours bright and gay, 
 And breathed enchantment o'er the living lay. 
 
 Uncertain, 561. iii. 269. 
 
 ON THE STATUE OF THE SAME POET, 
 
 FLACED BY THE SIDE OF THE FIGURE OF CUPID. B. 
 
 Mbnander, sweet Thalia's pride, 
 Well art thou placed by Cupid's side; 
 Priest to the God of soft delights, 
 Thou spread'st on earth his joyous rites ; 
 
366 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 And sure the boy himself we see 
 To smile, and please, and breathe in thee 
 For, musing o'er yon imaged stone, 
 To see thee, and to love, are one. 
 
 Leonidas, Alex. 29. ii. 196. 
 ON AN INFANT 
 
 PLAYING ON THE EDGE OP A PRECIPICE. M. 
 
 Her infant playing on the verge of fate, 
 When hut an instant's space had been too late, 
 
 And pointed crags had elaim'd his forfeit breath. 
 The mother saw ; she laid her bosom bare ; 
 Her child sprang forward the known bliss to share; 
 
 And that which nourish'd life now saved from death, 
 
 JEmilianus Nicceus, 1. ii. 275. 
 
 ON THE PICTURE OF AN INFANT 
 sucking at the breast of a dying mother. 
 
 Tyttler. 
 Suck, little wretch, while yet thy mother lives ! 
 Suck the last drop her fainting bosom gives ! 
 She dies — her tenderness survives her breath, 
 And her fond love is provident in death. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 367 
 
 Uncertain , 422. iii. 241. 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 ON A FIGURED GEM, REPRESENTING A GOAT GIYING SUCK TO A 
 YOUNG WOLF. B. 
 
 A wolf, reluctant, with my milk I feed, 
 
 Obedient to a cruel master's will ; 
 By him I nourish'd, soon condemn'd to bleed, 
 
 For stubborn Nature will be Nature still. 
 
 Myrinus, 3. ii. 107. 
 
 ON A PICTURE OF CUPID 
 
 WATCHING THE FLOCK OF THE NYMPHS. B. 
 
 Swain of the Nymphs, who drove their flocks along, 
 Nor fear'd with sylvan Pan to strive in song, 
 Stretch'd in the sun, who broke the morn with wine, 
 Young Thyrsis sleeps beneath this shady pine : 
 Love takes the crook himself, and guards with pride 
 The flock that Thyrsis tended ere he died. 
 Nymphs, nymphs, reanimate your favourite's clay, 
 Lest Cupid fall to savage wolves a prey ! 
 
368 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Plato, 15. i. 172. 
 
 ON THE IMAGE OF A SATYR, AND A CtJPID 
 
 SLEEPING BY A FOUNTAIN SIDE. B. 
 
 From mortal hands my being I derive ; 
 Mute marble once, from man I learn 'd to live. 
 A satyr now, with nymphs I hold resort, 
 And guard the watery grottos where they sport. 
 In purple wine refused to revel more, 
 Sweet draughts of water from my urn I pour ; 
 But, stranger, softly tread, lest any sound 
 Awake yon boy, in rosy slumbers bound. 
 
 Plato, 29. i. 1T4. 
 
 ON A SLEEPING CUPID IN A GROVE. B. 
 
 I pierced the grove, and in its deepest gloom 
 
 Beheld sweet Love, of heavenly form and bloom ; 
 
 Nor bow nor quiver at his back were slung, 
 
 But, harmless, on the neighbouring branches hung, 
 
 On rosebuds pillow'd lay the little child 
 
 In glowing slumbers pleased, and sleeping smiled, 
 
 While, all around, the bees delighted sip 
 
 The fragrance of his smooth and balmy lip. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 369 
 
 Eubulus (Fragm. Com. Poet.) 
 
 ON A WINGED CUPID. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Why, foolish Painter, give those wings to Love ? 
 Love is not light, as my fond heart can prove ; 
 Love hath no wings, or none that I can see ; 
 If he can fly, oh bid him fly from me ! 
 
 Simonide$, 90. i. 143. 
 
 ON A STATUE OF CUPID BY PRAXITELES. H, 
 
 Well has the sculptor what he felt express'd ; 
 He drew the living model from his breast. 
 Will not his Phryne the design approve, 
 Me for myself exchanging, Love for Love ? 
 Lost is my fabled bow and magic dart ; 
 But, only gazed upon, I win the heart. 
 
 Plato, 14. i. 15T. 
 
 ON A RURAL IMAGE OF PAN. M. 
 
 Sleep, ye rude winds ! Be every murmur dead 
 On yonder oak-crown'd promontory's head ! 
 Be still, ye bleating flocks — your shepherd calls. 
 Hang silent on your rocks, ye waterfalls ! 
 
 Bb 
 
370 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Pan on his oaten pipe awakes the strain, 
 And fills with dulcet sounds the pastoral plain. 
 Lured by his notes, the nymphs their bowers forsake, 
 From every fountain, running stream, and lake, 
 From every hill and ancient grove around, 
 And to symphonious measures strike the ground. 
 
 Plato Comicus (Fragm. Com. Poet.) 
 
 ON A STATUE OF MERCURY. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 " Hoa there ! Who art thou ? Answer me. Art dumb ? ! 
 " Warm from the hand of Daedalus I come, 
 My name, Mercurius ; and, as you may prove, 
 A statue ; but his statues speak and .move." 
 
 Philip. (Huschke Anal. Crit. 205.) 
 
 ON A BRONZE STATUE OF THE RIVER EUROTAS, 
 
 M. 
 Pjlunged by the sculptor in a bath of flame, 
 
 Yet in his native bed the God appears : 
 
 The watery veil yet hangs o'er all his frame, 
 
 And every pore distills the crystal tears. 
 
 How great the victory of art, that gave 
 
 To brass the trembling moisture of the wave ! 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 371 
 
 Uncertain, 298. iii. 214. 
 ON A STATUE OF NIOBE, BY PRAXITELES. B. 
 
 This female, so the poets sing, 
 
 Was changed to stone by Dian's curse. 
 
 The painter did a better thing — 
 He did exactly the reverse. 
 
 Anytc, 5. i. 198. 
 ON A STATUE OF VENUS ON THE SEA COAST. B, 
 
 Cythera from this craggy steep 
 Looks downward on the glassy deep, 
 And hither calls the breathing gale, 
 Propitious to the venturous sail, 
 While ocean flows beneath, serene, 
 Awed by the smile of Beauty's queen. 
 
 Leonidas, 41. i. 231. 
 ON THE VENUS ANADYOMENE OF APELLES. M. 
 
 When from the bosom of her parent flood 
 She rose refulgent with the encircling brine, 
 Apelles saw Cythera's form divine, 
 
 And fix'd her breathing image, where it stood. 
 
372 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 Those graceful hands, entwined, that wring the spray 
 From her ambrosial hair, proclaim the truth ; 
 
 Those speaking eyes, where amorous lightnings play, 
 Those swelling heavens, the harbingers of youth. 
 
 The rival Powers behold with fond amaze, 
 
 And yield submission in the conscious gaze. 
 
 Uncertain, 247. iii. 200. 
 EXCLAMATION OF VENUS 
 
 ON SEEING HER STATUE BY PRAXITELES. M. 
 
 My naked charms ! The Phrygian swain, 
 And Dardan boy — to those I've shown them, 
 
 And only those, of mortal strain. 
 
 How should Praxiteles have known them ? 
 
 Leonidas Alex. 24, ii. 195, 
 THE POWER OF BEAUTY. 
 
 ON THE ARMED STATUE OF VENUS AT SPARTA. M, 
 
 Fair Queen of Love ! those arms you bear 
 The God of War is wont to wield. 
 Oh shake not thou the sounding spear ! 
 Oh hold not thou the blazing shield ! 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 373 
 
 Thy naked power taught Mars to yield : 
 The mighty Tamer bow'd before thee — 
 When Gods before thy charms have kneel'd, 
 Must they. be. arm 'd ere men adore thee? 
 
 Uncertain, 249. iii. 201. 
 ON THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Pallas met Beauty's Queen array'd in arms, 
 " Dost thou too venture on the listed field?". 
 Smiling she answer'd, — " If my naked charms 
 Such victories gain — what with my spear and shield?" 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT, 
 
 paraphrased from ausohius. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 The Trojan swain had judged the great dispute, 
 And Beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit, 
 When Venus, loose in all her naked charms, 
 Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms ; 
 The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid 
 From head to foot, and tauntingly she said, 
 
 " Yield, sister; rival, yield; naked, you see, 
 I vanquish ; guess how potent I should be, 
 
374 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 If to the field I came in armour drest, 
 
 Dreadful like thine my shield, and terrible my crest. 
 
 The warrior goddess with disdain replied, 
 " Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride : 
 Let a brave enemy for once advise, 
 And Venus, if 'tis possible, be wise : 
 Thou, to be strong, must put off every dress; 
 Thy only armour is thy nakedaess \ 
 And, more than once (or thou art much belied) 
 By Mars himself that armour has been tried." 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 e( HusNd is the howl ofwintery breezes wild" p. 351. 
 
 The only merit which this short idyl can claim is the 
 condensation of familiar images, rendered pleasing in 
 the original by a more than ordinary harmony of ca- 
 dences and of whole lines. I question whether any 
 verse can be cited, superior^ in this respect, to the second 
 of this idyl : 
 
 TIop$vpsYi fJtS&rps (pspav$so$ eictpos topf\. 
 
 Jacobs is not awake to the harmony, and therefore dis- 
 covers no merit at all. 
 
 It is extraordinary that the poet should have made no 
 mention of love, which, in this delightful season, is the 
 first and foremost of passions felt and acknowledged by 
 the whole creation. Hence Lucretius makes Love the 
 constant attendant of the spring : 
 
 " It Ver et Venus," &c. 
 
 Spring comes with Venus join'd, and in her train 
 The winged Zephyr wantons o'er the plain ; 
 Before their steps delighted Flora strews 
 Her buds of sweetest breath and liveliest hues. B. 
 
376 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The effect of a May morning is merrily expressed in 
 the following pretty triolet : 
 
 " Le premier jour du mois de Mai 
 Fut le plus heureux de ma vie ; 
 Le beau dessein que je formai 
 Le premier jour du mois de Mai. 
 Je vous vis, et je vous aimai. 
 Si ce dessein vous plut, Silvie, 
 Le premier jour du mois de Mai 
 Fut le plus heureux de ma vie." 
 
 The morning of the firs of May 
 To me was happier -far than any; 
 I thought on that which made me gay, 
 The morning of the first of May. 
 I saw, and loved thee on that day : 
 If what I thought on pleased thee, Fanny, 
 The morning of the first of May 
 To me was happier far than any. B. 
 
 On such a subject it would be labour lost, or endless, 
 to cite the parallels which occur in the poetical remains 
 of all ages and nations. As being less obvious to the 
 recollection of most classical readers, I shall only refer 
 them to the beautiful opening of Gregory Nazianzen's 
 Panegyric on the Martyr Mamas — (See Boyd's M Select 
 Passages," &c. p. 207,) and to those eloquent pieces of 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 377 
 
 descriptive poetry in the romance of Longus, which 
 Mr. Boyd has mentioned in his notes to that fragment. 
 There are many who will not be surprised to find, in the 
 loves of Daphnis and Chloe, a vein of poetical delight 
 that they little expect to meet with in a father of the 
 Christian church. 
 
 " The return of spring to sailors." p. 352. 
 
 This alluring subject, so natural to the imagination 
 of a Grecian poet, was eagerly seized by many writers 
 ' subsequent to Leonidas ; each of whom, besides varying 
 the expressions of his predecessor, applied to the same 
 natural objects, added some original image to the collec- 
 tion already presented to his hand. It has been my 
 object, in the second of these two pieces, to throw 
 together all the most striking circumstances in the 
 several successive poems of Antipater, Argentarius, 
 Archias, Paul, and Agathias. 
 
 " What time soft zephyrs of the balmy May" p. 355* 
 
 This fragment, the only portion which we now pos- 
 sess of the writings of Ibycus, corresponds exactly with 
 the impetuous and enthusiastic character which the 
 voice of antiquity has attributed to him. He was a 
 native of Rhegium, and probably the earliest poet that 
 the Grecian colonies in Italy produced. His death was 
 
378 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 attended by circumstances so singular, that it may not 
 be unamusingif I detail it from the statement of iElian. 
 Travelling in a wild and uninhabited country, he was 
 one day attacked by banditti, and, when mortally 
 wounded, perceived a flight of cranes hovering over the 
 spot. " Those very birds," he exclaimed in the agonies 
 of death, " may hereafter be the avengers of my mur- 
 der." Some little period had elapsed, when the assassins 
 being together in the public forum, observed some 
 cranes flying over their heads. They could not avoid 
 whispering among one another, either in derision, or 
 from a sudden feeling of remorse for the crime which 
 this circumstance had strongly brought to their remem- 
 brance, w Behold the avengers of Ibycus !" The remark 
 was overheard, and communicated to the magistrates. 
 The robbers were summoned to answer the charge now 
 brought against them. Their confused appearance and 
 unsatisfactory defence strengthened the suspicion ; the 
 application of tortures compelled a discovery, and the 
 prophecy of' the dying poet was accomplished in their 
 execution. 
 
 The description of the Cydonian Gardens, as existing 
 at the time when this ancient poet flourished, accords, in 
 many remarkable particulars, with those given by 
 modern travellers of the country about Canea, in the 
 isle of Crete, the undoubted site of the Cydon of anti- 
 quity. The richness and variety of the fruits which it 
 produces are particularly celebrated ; and the quince, 01 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. S79 
 
 Cydonian apple, of course passes not unnoticed among 
 them. These are the fruits which* (according to Pliny, 
 in Dr. Philemon Holland's translation), " are come now 
 a daies to be entertained within the waiting or presence- 
 chambers of our great personages, where men give 
 attendance to salute them as they come forth every 
 morning ; and in bed-chambers also they are to garnish 
 the images standing about the bed's head and sides." 
 They were, long previous to the time of Pliny, reckoned 
 among the most acceptable offerings of lovers to their 
 mistresses. Stesichorus speaks of Helen's bed chamber 
 as being full of u Cydonian apples," myrtles, and be'au- 
 tiful garlands of roses and violets. Alcman, the earliest 
 of the amatory poets, talks of a lover playfully throwing 
 the u Cydonian apple" into his mistress's bosom ; and 
 this may render it probable that the ladies in Theocritus 
 and Virgil, who are described as pelting their gallants 
 with apples, and Pamphilus, in Aristsenetus, who, sitting 
 at table with his mistress, 
 
 an apple broke, 
 
 And at her bosom aim'd the stroke, 
 
 employed the same species of fruit for their respective 
 purposes. On account of their extraordinary beauty and 
 colour, they obtained also the name of Chrysomela, or 
 the Golden Apple -, so that the celebrated prize which 
 caused so serious a contention between three rival god- 
 desses on Mount Ida, was evidently neither more nor 
 
380 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 less than a quince. The fable of the judgment of Paris 
 thus explained, has a striking parallel in the Constanti- 
 nopolitan History of Zonaras. Theodosius the younger 
 sent a quince of extraordinary bigness to his empress, as 
 a present, which she having unfortunately transferred to 
 Paulinus, an officer of the palace, it became, like 
 Othello's handkerchief, the seed of a furious jealousy, 
 and productive of consequences hardly less fatal than the 
 ten years siege of Troy. To conclude, the beauty which 
 procured for them the surname of " golden,"- recom- 
 mended them also to the peculiar care and protection of 
 Venus ; and, for this reason perhaps, a lover's throwing 
 them at his mistress was considered as an invitation of 
 similar import to the casting the handkerchief in the 
 Grand Signior's seraglio. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that, in the " Cydonian Gar- 
 dens," poor Palsemon first discovered to Arion the 
 affecting history of his love and of his wrongs. I do not 
 imagine that Falconer had ever read this fragment of 
 Ibycus, when he produced the following picture of that 
 region, which the poetof Rhegium has celebrated : 
 
 c< But now before them happier scenes arise ! 
 Elysian vales salute their ravish'd eyes : 
 Olive and cedar form'd a grateful shade, 
 Where light with gay romantic error stray'd; 
 The myrtles here with fond caresses twine, 
 There, rich with nectar, melts the pregnant vine ; 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 381 
 
 And lo ! the stream, renown'd in classic song, 
 Sad Lethe, glides the silent vale along. 
 On mossy bank, beneath the citron grove, 
 The youthful wanderers found a wild alcove ; 
 Soft o'er the fairy region languor stole, 
 And with sweet melancholy charm'd the soul." 
 
 Shipwreck, c. i. 
 
 "Not here, O thirsty traveller, stoop to drink." p. 355. 
 
 The merit of these lines consists wholly in their de- 
 scriptive character. We are pleased with any thing in 
 poetry, however trifling in itself, which lays before our 
 eyes any one clear and distinct image in nature. But 
 in a country which, like many parts of Greece, and of 
 the southern states of Italy, was almost destitute of water, 
 a clear and wholesome fountain was an inestimable 
 treasure; and an inscription, guiding the traveller or 
 wandering shepherd to such a spring, must have been a 
 work of extensive public utility. Among the beneficial 
 and magnificent works ascribed to Nushirvan, or Chos- 
 roes, we are told that during his reign this transcendent 
 blessing was dispersed, with careful and liberal hand, 
 over the arid territory of Persia ; an act which alone 
 entitles him to a proud pre-eminence over his rival Jus- 
 tinian ; the importance of which is so great, that one of 
 the first officers of state in those torrid regions, was de- 
 signated by the title of Prince of the Waters, * 
 
382 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " lam JSRnervcts sacred plant " p. 356. 
 
 The blended foliage of the vine and olive must be 
 familiar to all who have visited the shores of the Levant, 
 and naturally enough suggested the mythological allusion 
 in this Epigram : 
 
 " The rising hill wide-spreading olives shade, 
 Skirt the deep ravine, and embower the glade 
 With sober tints of never-fading green ; 
 While distant mountains close the varied scene, &c. 
 — Hence to the left extends a spacious plain, 
 Nor rich with pastured herds nor waving grain ; 
 Where bending vines their purple pride display," &c. 
 
 This is the description of the modern state of Alci- 
 nous' garden. So in the neighbouring island of Zante, 
 
 (e Where tangled olives form a cool retreat, 
 Through the green shade where evening breezes play 
 Oft have I linger'd at the close of day, 
 To mark the lengthening shadows as they fell, 
 And listen to the convent's vesper bell, &c. 
 — Now, gently stealing on the yielding sense, 
 Soft breathing gales their gather'd sweets dispense 
 From thousand aromatic plants, that grow 
 Irj wild luxuriance on the mountains' brow, 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 383 
 
 From cultured fields, where blooms the early vine, 
 And embryo blossoms swell with future wine" 
 
 (Wright's Horse lonicse.) 
 
 This beautiful picture recalls the <e Cydonian Gardens" 
 of Ibycus, and bids me remark a casual but striking 
 instance of resemblance of the last line of the passage 
 here quoted, with one which occurs in my translation. 
 
 " Hail, venerable boughs, that in mid sky" p. 356. 
 
 It is naturally pleasing to the human mind to trace a 
 resemblance in times and countries that can be supposed 
 to have had no connexion with each other, whether in 
 language or manners. We are much gratified when we 
 observe, that the reverence of our ancient Druids for the 
 tree from which they derived their name, and under the 
 shade of which their most sacred offices were performed 
 extended even to Greece. But wherever there is a 
 scarcity of wood, and the art of planting has not become 
 generally practised among the inhabitants, a single tree 
 will be well known to a whole territory, and the land- 
 mark of ages will be consecrated to posterity by a kind 
 of prescriptive right. In an epigram by Zonas, it is 
 treated as a point of religion not to cut down an oak- 
 tree. The superior size and magnificence of that most 
 noble plant sufficiently accounts for the preference so 
 universally given to it. 
 
 (e Oh labourer ! ^Fear to cut down the mother of 
 acorns ; spare her ! Let the aged pine be destroyed, or 
 
S84 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 the fir, or yonder paliurus, or the ilex, or the dry 
 arbutus. But let your axe ^be far from the oak-tree. 
 For our forefathers have told us that our first mothers 
 were oaks." 
 
 The singular circumstance which concludes this cu- 
 rious relic of ancient veneration, would lead us, if pur- 
 sued, into a discussion too voluminous for this little work. 
 It is enough to have shewn this point of resemblance 
 between the superstitions of Gaul and of Greece. 
 
 Grand and solemn scenery has at all times been the 
 favoured retirement of religion. The Ode of Gray on 
 the Grande Chartreuse is well known. But the French 
 have a mode of introducing gaiety on every occasion \ 
 and my friend, Mr. Parsons, copied out and imitated 
 from the Album of that celebrated and severe retreat, 
 some lines which present it in a light far different from 
 the Latin ode. 
 
 Copied from the Album of the Grande Chartreuse, 
 near Grenoble, 
 
 " Devots habitans de ces lieux, 
 Sans doute votre sort est bien digne d'envie, 
 Vous &tes, vous serez heureux, 
 Vous passez une sainte vie, 
 Sans peine, sans inquietude : 
 Mais je trouve que le plaisir 
 D'entrer dans cette solitude 
 Ne vaut pas celui d'en softir." 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 385 
 
 Imitated by Mr. Parsons, 
 " True — here may saints enraptured dwell 
 Exempt from worldly care, 
 Here human pains and pleasures quell 
 By penitence and prayer. . 
 
 Wild scenery this for bigot zeal 
 
 In ecstasy devout : 
 Great joy in coming in I feel, 
 
 But more in going out." 
 
 Waller's poetical wish, 
 
 " Oh, how I long my weary limbs to lay 
 Under the plantain shade," &c. 
 
 must be familiar to all ; but he writes only from a mo- 
 mentary impression ; and how inferior is he in express- 
 ing the true ardour with which some men feel this 
 passion for solitude and retirement. 
 
 (( Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good ! 
 
 Hail, ye plebeian underwood ! 
 
 Where the poetic birds rejoice, 
 
 And for their quiet nests and plenteous food 
 
 Pay with their grateful voice ! 
 
 Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, 
 Hear the soft winds above me flying, 
 With all their wanton boughs dispute, 
 And the more tuneful birds to both replying, 
 
 Nor be myself too mute." Cowley. 
 
 Cc 
 
386 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The same settled and habitual sentiment is expressed 
 in those exquisite stanzas of " Childe Harold's Pilgrim- 
 age," to which, as the book is in the hands of all the 
 world, I shall content myself with referring the reader. 
 
 a To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell," &c. 
 
 — " This is not solitude — 'tis but to hold 
 
 Converse with nature's works, and see her stores unroll'd." 
 
 (i This plant is sacred. Passenger, beware !" p. 357 • 
 
 The original of this Epigram is published by Jacobs 
 
 in his Exercitationes Criticae (Tom. ii. p. 81.) It is 
 
 given in the Melanges de Critique et de Philologie, 
 
 together with a Latin version, as a specimen of several 
 
 made by the late Abbe de Lurienne, of whose life and 
 
 character M. Chardon furnishes us with a short but 
 
 interesting memoir, in the note which occasioned its 
 
 .ntroduction. The version is that which follows : 
 i 
 
 " Me violasse cave, cum sim arbos sacra, viator ! 
 
 Quisquis ades, moneo, dilacerata gemam ; 
 Cortex virgo fuit, nee vili creta, memento, 
 
 Stipite. Populidum quem latet unde genus ? 
 Quod si me positam semoto tramite caedas, 
 
 Non impune feres. Sol colit Heliaden." 
 
 "Whoe'er thou art, recline beneath the shade" p. 357« 
 
 This simple inscription, on a shady laurel by the 
 water's side, is, in the former editions of the Anthology, 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 387 
 
 announced as the work of an uncertain author. The 
 Vatican MS. ascribes it to Anyte; and it is restored to 
 her by Jacobs upon that authority. The fable of Apollo 
 and Daphne is alluded to in the succeeding Epigram : 
 Fontenelle has given a pleasant turn to this story. — The 
 opening of the following lines is in imitation of Fonte- 
 nelle ; but, as he does not appear to, me to carry his idea 
 quite far enough, I have ventured a new conclusion to 
 the story. 
 
 Apollo and Daphne, 
 " In me," said Phoebus, as he panted 
 On Daphne's hair, and still pursued 
 The timid nymph from field to wood, 
 i( In me behold — I speak with pride, — 
 More charms than Heaven can boast beside I" 
 Then, thinking she would be enchanted 
 To hear him, one by one, recite 'em, 
 He straight recounted every item, 
 As in the sequel will appear : 
 ci First, I am God of verse and light," — 
 (She hated verse, and loved the night.) — 
 " Conundrums I can best unriddle, 
 And play divinely on the fiddle ;"-— 
 (For music Daphne had no ear ; 
 She thought the science dull and hollow : 
 And, as for riddles, Daphne knew 
 
 A thing or two, 
 Would pose a shrewder than Apollo.) 
 
S88 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 ee I know the use of herbs, my fair, 
 Oh stay !"— ('Twas talking to the air.) 
 " Oh, wherefore, gentle nymph, so hasty ? 
 The God of physic owns thy power." 
 (This made her run ten knots an hour, 
 For senna, Daphne thought, was nasty.)— 
 " No God so chaste !" Although fatigue 
 Had nearly made a nymph so tender 
 From mere exhaustion straight surrender : 
 Yet had that last such force supplied, 
 That at one brisk and desperate stride 
 She bounded nearly half a league : 
 And, musing as she best was able, 
 Conceived it quite as profitable 
 To be a laurel as a bride." B. 
 
 Prior also has amused himself by a parody of this 
 celebrated dialogue. 
 
 " Tliis lovely spot old Ocean laves, p. 358. 
 
 This, and the succeeding Epigram, are supposed (I 
 know not on what foundation) to be descriptive of the 
 gardens of Justinian, at Herseum, of which Gibbon 
 gives us a beautiful picture, (vol. vii. c. 40.) The 
 reader may compare them with the gardens of Vopiscus, 
 and the Sorrentine villa of Pollius Felix, as delineated by 
 Statius. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 389 
 
 " Or from this fount, a joyous birth" p. 359. 
 
 In a collection of figured gems published by Mr. Ogle, 
 there are two preserved which represent Venus bathing, 
 and rising from the bath.-— This subject was indeed 
 equally common among their artists and poets. In 
 warm countries the bath has been always held as one of 
 the first luxuries of life, or rather it is in itself necessary 
 to exsistence ; and luxury, in the more refined ages of 
 society, combined with it all the elegancies and delica- 
 cies of art. In Homer's Hymn to Venus, the bath makes 
 a very principal feature in the description he gives of 
 her preparations for the meeting with Anchises. The 
 Graces attend on her, anoint her with fragrant and im- 
 mortal oil, and at last enfold her limbs in the loveliest 
 robes ornamented with gold.~The same ceremony oc- 
 curs in the Odyssey towards the conclusion of the song 
 of Demodocus. Hence the most costly baths had fre- 
 quently inscriptions upon them alluding to the Goddess 
 of Beauty. 
 
 The succeeding translation of Marianus is taken from 
 the work above alluded to. 
 
 In a valuable mythological work of M. Millin, lately 
 published at Paris, occur several representations of 
 Roman empresses who chose to be figured in the cha- 
 racter of the Goddess of Beauty rising from the bath. 
 This mode of representation was, however, more probably 
 
390 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 suggested to them by the Venus Anadyomene. I shall 
 recur to the subject in a future illustration. 
 
 " As in this fount, Love ivasKd the Cyprian dame" 
 
 p. 359. 
 
 The mythological fiction here employed to illustrate 
 the praises of this first of southern luxuries, has been 
 adopted on other occasions of the like nature. Thus in 
 the Anthologia Latina : 
 
 ee De Baits. 
 
 Ante bonam Venerem gelidae per litora Bajae ; 
 Ilia natare lacus cum lampade jussit Amorem. 
 Dum natat, algentes cecidit scintilla per undas. 
 Hinc vapor ussit aquas; quicunque natavit, amavit." 
 
 Pliny also informs us that the delicious odour of a 
 fountain in Mesopotamia was attributed, by the people 
 of that country, to the goddess Juno having once hon- 
 oured its waters by bathing in them. In another Epigram 
 on the same subject, Marianus shews some variety of 
 invention. He relates, that the nymphs found Love 
 sitting on the brink of the fountain, under the shade of 
 plane trees ; and that dipping his torch into the water^ 
 for the purpose of extinguishing it, they, on the con- 
 trary, communicated its flame to the water itself. This 
 is also the subject of some figured gem or other sculp 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 3.91 
 
 ture. Warton may have had this idea in his mind when 
 he composed the following inscription on a grotto : 
 
 t€ The Graces sought in yonder stream 
 To cool the fervid day, 
 When Love's malicious godhead came, 
 And stole their robes away. 
 
 Proud of the theft, the little god 
 
 Their robes bad Delia wear ; 
 While they, ashamed to stir abroad, 
 
 Remain all naked here," 
 
 " Erewhile my gentle streams ivere wont to pour" 
 
 p. 360. 
 
 The turn of thought in this little poem evidently 
 depends on the custom before alluded to, of mixing water 
 with wine. There is an Epigram on the same subject 
 by Apollonides. A fountain, to which, on account of 
 its transparent purity, the nymphs had given the appel- 
 lation of Cathar&, was dried up from the moment that 
 certain robbers washed their hands in it, after murdering 
 a traveller whom they found sleeping on its brink. 
 
 Pausanias, speaking of the river Helicon, says that 
 when the women who killed Orpheus came to wash 
 their hands in its water, it suddenly dipped under 
 ground, to avoid giving its expiation to those execrable 
 females. 
 
392 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " O sacred voice of the Pierian choir, p. 362. 
 
 The poet who is last noticed in this Epigram (Aleman) 
 was, as is here implied, the earliest of those who devoted 
 his muse to the service of Love. He introduced the 
 custom, which long maintained itself among the Greeks, 
 of chanting love verses at banquets and assemblies. 
 The name of the beauty in whose honour he sung, and 
 who was herself a poet, is preserved, in a small frag- 
 ment of his works, by Athenaeus. u Again has the 
 sweet child of Venus entered my soul, and gladdened 
 all within me. These lays a heavenly virgin has in- 
 spired, Megalostrata with the golden hair." The age of 
 this early poet has been fixed to the 27th Olympiad. Of 
 his poems none survive except a few insignificant 
 scraps ; and of his life, the memoirs which have reached 
 our days are equally inconsiderable. His instruments 
 were the cythara and the flute, and he is the reputed in- 
 ventor of music for choral dances. The different styles 
 of Simonides and Ibycus, of Stesichoms and Bacchylides, 
 are well contrasted in this Epigram ; and of all these 
 several authors (except Stesichoms) sufficient reliques 
 are preserved to enable us to judge of the probable accu- 
 racy of the description. The reader will find specimens 
 of each in different parts of this volume. Of names so 
 familiar as those of Pindar and Sappho, of Alcaeus and 
 Anacreon, it is unnecessary in this place to say any 
 thing. The nine lyrical poets are celebrated in many 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 393 
 
 other epigrams besides this which I have selected by 
 way of specimen, but with very little variety. Nine 
 female poets also are held up to immortality by Anti- 
 pater and others, under the name of " Earthly Muses." 
 These are Sappho, Erinna, Anyte, Nossis, Praxilla, 
 Corinna, Telesilla, Myrtis, and Myro ; but of the most 
 part of them the catalogue of names is all that survives. 
 
 " Whoe'er he was whose art this picture planned" 
 
 p. 364. 
 
 I know not on what authority, anterior to the days of 
 Ovid, the person of Sappho has been represented under 
 an unfavourable aspect. It would even be difficult to 
 affix any earlier origin to the disrepute in which her 
 character has been held in these latter days. On a point, 
 however, universally believed to be long since settled, it 
 would be the most idle exertion of knight-errantry to 
 endeavour now to alter the established opinion. The 
 Arabian prince running all over the world in search of 
 Solomon's mistress, who had been quietly laid in her 
 grave^for at least three thousand years, is a type of sound 
 common sense in comparison with such an adventurer. 
 
 The most that can safely be ventured on such an oc- 
 casion, is to oppose to die discourteous Roman poet, the 
 evidence of a picture which was existing at a much later 
 period, and which, too probably, was only the creature 
 of the imagination. Jif it proves any tiling, therefore, it 
 is no more than that, in the days of Justinian, the autho- 
 
394 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 rity of Ovid was not held so conclusive as it appears to 
 have been considered in after ages. cc There are two 
 kinds of beauty/' says the author of the Romance of 
 Clitophon and Leucippe, " the one pure and celestial, 
 the other gross and earthly." The latter adheres to the 
 body in which it resides, is fixed in the form of a face or 
 of a bosom, in the regular arch of an eyebrow, the just 
 symmetry of a nose, or the unfading coral of a lip. The 
 other owes its origin to Heaven, and aspiring to the 
 place of its birth, seems ever anxious to break its prison-r 
 house of mortality. Hence the " eloquent blood," that 
 mounts into the face, and animates the countenance 
 with colours perpetually varying but always lovely ; 
 hence the glistening moisture of the lips and eyes, that 
 look as if the soul were always on the wing to escape^ 
 and fluttering between the speech and the sight. 
 
 I have seen a portrait, now many years ago, which 
 immediately brought to my imagination this description 
 of Democharis 5 and I have been told that its resem- 
 blance to the original was exact in every particular, but 
 most of all in the expression which it conveyed. It was 
 a picture, by Laurence, of a young lad)', whose high 
 birth and beauty were only equalled by her talents and 
 accomplishments; but who has since resigned that 
 beauty, and those talents to Heaven. 5 
 
 This subject naturally leads to mournful recollections; 
 and I trust in the kindness of experienced friendship to 
 forgive the insertion in this place of the following 
 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 395 
 
 Inscription, for a Monument intended to he erected in 
 the Church at Hafod. 
 
 When at the holy altar's foot is given 
 The blushing maiden to the enamour'd youth 
 Whose long tried honour, constancy, and truth, 
 Yield the fair promise of an earthly heaven, 
 Though to far distant friends and country led, 
 Fond parents triumph 'mid the tears they shed. 
 
 Shall we then grieve, that a celestial spouse 
 Hath borne this virgin treasure from our sight, 
 To share the glories of the eternal light, 
 The end of all our prayers and all our vows ? 
 We should rejoice — but cannot as we ought — 
 Great God ! Forgive the involuntary fault. M. 
 
 te When bold Timomachus essay 'd to trace" p. 364. 
 
 In this Epigram, Antiphilus has paid a very natural 
 and pleasing tribute to the merits of an ingenious coun- 
 tryman, Timomachus lived at Byzantium in the time 
 of Julius Caesar, who did not fail to acknowledge and 
 reward his genius ; for Pliny tells us, that he bought 
 two of his pictures (one of which was this celebrated 
 painting of Medea) for a sum equal to about £10,000. 
 sterling. Bayle (in Art. Timomachus) cites a passage 
 from Pliny respecting this picture, which is curious as a 
 memorial of Roman connoisseurship. " It is a very ex- 
 traordinary thing that the last works, and unfinished 
 pictures of artists, such as the Iris of Aristides, the Tyn- 
 
396 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 daridse of Timomachus, the Medea of the same painter, 
 the Venus of Apelles, are more admired than their 
 finished pictures." " Does pity enter into the case } n 
 proceeds Bayle, (arguing on what he terms this caprice 
 of mankind,) " do, men think it their duty to cherish 
 things on "account of their misfortune in losing their 
 author before they were finished?" Something of this 
 may, perhaps, be attributed to caprice ; but there may 
 also exist other reasons for the preference besides those 
 visionary motives which the philosopher supposes. To a 
 painter's eye, or a student's comprehension, the different 
 stages of progressive labour, exemplified in works which 
 have been brought by eminent artists to different states 
 short of perfection, may afford a fund of pleasure or of 
 instruction beyond what even the most finished models 
 of the art can produce, and much beyond what an un- 
 learned observer, or a mere amateur, can imagine. At 
 any rate, we ought not to be too hasty in giving the title 
 of caprice to a feeling, not confined to one age or country, 
 but which seems natural to a state of peculiar refine- 
 ment. 
 
 This Epigram has been imitated by Ausonius 5 and 
 the same subject is treated in other poems in the An- 
 thology. The praise assigned to the painter at the con- 
 clusion, c for avoiding the representation of the horrors 
 which Medea acted, is also bestowed, for a similar 
 reason, by Lucian, on a picture of the murder of Cly-* 
 teemnestra. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 397 
 
 " Behold Menander ! Siren of the stage'* p. 365. 
 
 This, and the following inscription, have heen al- 
 ready referred to in the Preface, and may, with the 
 greatest propriety, be understood solejy as allusive to the 
 " Veneres Cupidinesque" of his comic muse. They 
 have also been conjectured, but with far less probability, 
 to allude to the love of the poet for Glycera the cour- 
 tezan, of which Athenseus (in his thirteenth book), but 
 more particularly Alciphron (in three several epistles) 
 make mention. Such love, however, was common to 
 Menander with almost all, not of the poets only, but 
 the philosophers of Greece ; nor was it very ardent in its 
 kind, if we may credit the grave Johnsonian reply which 
 he is recorded to have made to Philemon, who having 
 once complimented him on the virtues of his mistress, he 
 answered, " Sir, no man's mistress was ever virtuous." 
 
 " Her infant playing on the verge of fate J* p. Z66. 
 
 These lines I have ventured to suppose relating to a 
 picture on the subject which they commemorate, from 
 their similarity, in point of expression, to the Epigram 
 immediately following, which was certainly composed on 
 a celebrated painting by Aristides, representing a mother 
 bleeding to death, and her child yet sucking at her 
 breast. The criticism of Pliny on the last rrfentioned 
 picture is well known : " Pictura est, oppido capto, ad 
 matris morientis e vulnere mammam adrepens infans : 
 intelligiturque sentire mater, et timere ne emortuo lacte 
 
398 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 sanguinem infans lambat." " This," (says Mr. Shee, in 
 his Elements of Art, observing on the passage) " must 
 certainly be considered as the most extraordinary at- 
 chievement, in the way of expression, that is to be found 
 in the records of criticism. The political significance of 
 Burleigh's nod, fails on a comparison with such a prodigy 
 of prospective emotion — cause and effect — existing cir- 
 cumstances and contingent consequences — all contained 
 in one point of pathetic pungency — mixed up in a physio- 
 gnomical melange for the gratification of refined feeling 
 and pure taste." Mr. Shee's hatred to the Dilettanti 
 appears to me in this, as in other instances, to have 
 driven him a little too far. If I have understood Pliny 
 rightly, the picture of Aristides expressed no more than 
 the subject imperiously demanded; and if it had ex- 
 pressed less, his performance would have been worth 
 nothing. If horror, affection, and pity, can be felt at 
 one moment, the human countenance will at the same 
 moment express those feelings, and the expression be- 
 comes a fit subject for the painter's skill. The meaning 
 of it, indeed, cannot be written down in characters plain 
 enough for vulgar comprehension, but it is to be col- 
 lected by the penetration of taste and genius. 
 
 " A wolf, reluctant, with my milk I feed," p. 367. 
 
 " Gratia parit gratiam." " One good turn begets 
 another." This Epigram is the very reverse of the 
 common proverb. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 399 
 
 From the statue of a wolf, the transition does not seem 
 very abrupt to that of a house dog : 
 
 " Latratu fures excepi, mutus amantes. 
 Sic placui domino : sic placui dominae." 
 
 " Rude aux voleurs, doux a l'amant, 
 J'aboyois, ou faisois caresse ; 
 Ainsi j'ai su diversement 
 
 Servir mon maitre et ma maitresse." 
 
 I bark'd at thieves ; to lovers mute I grew ; 
 
 I pleased my master thus, and mistress too. B. 
 
 "Swain of the Nymphs who drove their flocks along" 
 
 p. 367. 
 
 a I imagine that this Epigram is descriptive of a 
 picture. Thyrsis, who enjoyed the office of shepherd of 
 the flocks belonging to the nymphs,, is asleep under the 
 shade of a pine. Love standing by, takes his crook, and 
 begins to act the shepherd's part. The poet, trembling 
 for the safety of the little deity, invokes the nymphs to 
 awaken their servant, lest Love become a prey to the 
 wild beasts of the forest. The gods are not unfre- 
 quently represented as attending on shepherds, and now 
 and then relieving them while on duty." 
 
 So far Jacobs. — In this respect the gods of the ancients 
 appear to have acted in a manner much resembling our 
 
400 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 modern fairies, who are well known to amuse them- 
 selves frequently in the night by relieving the good 
 housewife of her next morning's labour, and even drop- 
 ping a tester in her shoe, as a recompense for the occu- 
 pation of which they have so good-humouredly de- 
 frauded her. 
 
 (( JFrom mortal hands my being I derive'* p. 368. 
 
 This poem represents a scene in the interior of a 
 Grecian garden ; many are to be found on the same 
 model. They are to be considered as exact descriptions 
 of some spot equally favoured by art and nature, like 
 those of Shenstone on his Leasowes. The following is 
 beautifully depictive of the silence and sacredness of a 
 retired place, and is very successfully imitated from 
 those impressions inspired by the Greek, 
 
 " Hujus nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis, 
 
 Dormio, dum blandse sentio murmur aqua?, 
 Parce meum quisquis tangis cava marmora, somnum 
 'Rumpere j sive bibas, sive lavere, tace." 
 
 Which Pope thus translated for an inscription on the 
 statue of a water-nymph, at Stour Head, in Wiltshire : 
 
 " Nymph of the grot, these sacred springs- 1 keep, 
 And to the murmurs of these waters sleep ; 
 Ah, spare my slumbers ! gently tread the cave.' 
 Or drink in silence, or in silence lave." 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 401 
 
 Did our old English poet know any thing of this or 
 the succeeding epigram of Plato, when he gave utterance 
 to the following extremely poetical fancy ? 
 
 " Come shepherds, follow me ! 
 Run up apace the mountaine ! 
 See, loe beside the fountaine 
 Love laid to rest : how sweetly sleepeth he ! 
 O take heed ! Come not nigh him ? 
 But haste we hence, and fly him. 
 And, lovers, dance with gladness ; 
 For while Love sleepes is truce with care and sadness." 
 
 England's Helicon. 
 
 The following elegant couplet. was inscribed on a 
 statue of Cupid, in the garden of M. le Marq. de P^zay. 
 
 <e D'aucun Dieu Ton n'a dit tant de mal et de bien. 
 Le plus grand des malheurs est de n'en dire rien." 
 
 Of all the deities that shed 
 
 On earth their influence from above, 
 
 So much has never yet been said, 
 Both good and evil, as of Love. 
 
 Yet, for whatever joy we bless, 
 
 Or for whatever pain we flout him, 
 
 His is the worst unhappiness 
 
 Who knows not what to say about him» M. 
 Dd 
 
402 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Compare with this Lord Lansdown's couplet on a 
 similar subject : 
 
 " Whoe'er thou art, thy lord and master see. 
 Thou wast my slave, thou art, or thou shalt be." 
 
 This M. le Marq. de Pe^zay seems to have been a 
 great amateur of inscriptions ; and the reputation which 
 he enjoyed among the wits of Paris may be inferred 
 from the following pair : 
 
 POUR LE CABINET. 
 
 Inscription on the Door of his Study, hy the Marquis 
 himself. 
 
 " Here dreamer, poet, lover, farmer, every thing in turn, 
 Sometimes I think, sometimes I sing, sometimes with 
 passion burn, 
 Or frame wise projects for the court, 
 Or sing gay songs of Love's disport, 
 Or guide the plough-share, or the lute's string sweep : 
 Here, if the great forget me, will 
 Sit at my ease and laugh my fill. 
 Here, if by Love abandon'd, sit and weep." M. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 403 
 
 Parody of the above Inscription, by a Court Poet. 
 
 " Here statesman, rhymer, ploughman, ideot, every 
 thing by fits, 
 In each successive part I prove the laughing stock of 
 wits, 
 Here wise state projects sit and write, 
 Here by my songs put Love to flight, 
 Here hold the plough, having no lute to sweep ; 
 Here, by the court unknown, will rhyme my fill ; 
 And there, by Love abandon'd, will 
 For all my friends a wife or mistress keep." 
 
 The originals, from which these lame imitations are 
 made, may be found -in the Correspond, litt. de Grimm, 
 torn. iii. p. 285. 
 
 " I pierced the grove, and in its deepest gloom" 
 
 p. 368. 
 
 These lines may have been suggested either by the 
 casual circumstance of finding a child carelessly stretched 
 after the fatigue of archery under a tree, and sleeping, 
 or by a statue placed in a retired spot, to surprise those 
 who might happen to pass that way. I have preferred 
 that interpretation which seems to me most consonant to 
 
404 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 the general spirit of the Greek Epigram ; and I may 
 appear to be justified by the occurrence of a similar 
 image in the Latin Anthology ; 
 
 " Forte jacebat Amor, victus puer alite Somno, 
 Myrti inter frutices, pallentis roris in herba." 
 
 The God of Sleep was also represented by the ancients 
 under the form of a beautiful boy. 
 
 " Among the antique figures/' says Addison, speaking 
 of the Grand Duke's Gallery at Florence, " There is a 
 fine one of Morpheus in touchstone. I have always 
 observed that this god is represented by the ancient 
 statuaries under the figure of a boy asleep, with a bundle 
 of poppies in his hand. I at first took it for a Cupid, 
 till I had taken notice that it had neither a bow nor a 
 quiver. I suppose Dr. Lister has been guilty of the same 
 mistake on what he calls the sleeping Cupid with a 
 poppy in his hand 
 
 i( Qualia namque 
 Corpora nudorum tabula pinguntur Amorum, 
 Talis erat ; sed ne faciat discrimina cultus, 
 Aut huic adde leves, aut 1111 deme pharetras." 
 
 6i Such are the Cupids that in paint we view ; 
 But that the likeness may he justly true, 
 A loaded quiver to his shoulders tie, 
 Or bid the Cupids lay their arrows by." 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 405 
 
 " 'Tis probable they chose to represent the God of 
 Sleep under the figure of a boy, contrary to all our 
 modern designers, because it is that age which hath its 
 repose the least broken by cares and anxieties." 
 
 Addison's Travels in Italy. 
 
 Whatever mistake Dr. Lister may have fallen under, 
 it is certain that Addison has been guilty of one error, at 
 least, from which his own reference to Statius ought to 
 have secured him. 
 
 u Crimine quo merui, Juvenis placidissime divum, 
 Quove errore, miser, donis ut solus egerem, 
 Somne, tuis?" 
 
 It is true that the god Somnus was represented by the 
 ancients under the form of a boy, or rather of a beautiful 
 youth ; but for a different reason from that which 
 Addison has imagined. Hear the account given of him 
 by M. Millin, in the " Galerie Mythologique," a work 
 of great industry and research, which appears to have 
 been compiled after the closest investigation of those 
 exquisite monuments of ancient art which it presents to 
 our admiration. 
 
 (( Les artistes ont ensuite figure? Thanatos (la mort,) 
 comme un jeune adolescent ayant les jambes crois^es, et 
 appuy6 sur un flambeau renveis^ ; portant un papillon, 
 embleme de Tame qui s'^chappe. Cette image de la 
 mort a 6t6 nomme Somnus, parceque la mort n'est en 
 
406 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 effet qu'un sommeil kernel : et on a repr&ente^ de meme 
 Somnus, comme une image du sommeil ou de la mort." 
 
 So, on a bas-relief in the Museo Pio-Clementino, of 
 which a representation is given in the plates, Pluto and 
 Proserpine appear seated, and before them Somnns (le 
 Sommeil kernel) and Psyche (symbole de Tame) ; the 
 former represented as a youth, (not asleep, but in an 
 erect posture,) bearing a torch. Psyche rests on an urn, 
 the emblem of death ; and lays her finger on her mouth, 
 to indicate the profound silence which reigns in the 
 chambers of the grave. 
 
 Morpheus, on the other hand, who is alone the proper 
 image of the sleep of the living, and whom Addison 
 evidently confounds [with the former, is always repre- 
 sented as an old man, bearing wings on his temples, and 
 sometimes on his back, and crowned with asphodel, the 
 lily of the shades. 
 
 It is after all very possible, (the more so if Addison 
 composed his Travels only from the hearsay of other 
 travellers) that the figure he alludes to is that of Night, 
 which accompanies the Aurora, both by Michael Angelo, 
 at the foot of the statues of Julian and Lorenzo de 
 Medici. The waking of the one, contrasted with the 
 slumber of the other of these celebrated sculptures, con- 
 veys an inimitable expression. 
 
 Michael Angelo once found the following delicate 
 compliment written on the pedestal of the sleeping 
 deity : 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 407 
 
 u La Notte, che tu vedi in si dolci atti 
 Dormire, fu da un Angelo scolpita 
 In questo sasso; e perche dorme ha vita; 
 Destala se no '1 credi, e parleratti." 
 
 The yet more elegant answer of the goddess was im- 
 mediately conceived by the poetical artist': 
 
 " Grato m' e il sonno, ma piu 1' esser di sasso, 
 Mentre che il danno e la vergogna dura ; 
 Non veder e non sentir m' e gran ventura, 
 Perd non mi destar — deh ! parla basso." 
 
 Inscription on the Statue of Night, 
 
 " Night in this lovely posture you behold. 
 
 An Angel's art to rugged marble gives 
 
 This slumbering form. Because she sleeps, she lives. 
 Doubt you ? Then wake her ; by herself be told." B. 
 
 The Answer. 
 
 Grateful is sleep — but more to be of stone, 
 While guilt and shame upon the earth appear. 
 My lot is happy nor to see nor hear : 
 
 Then wake me not — I fain would slumber on. B. 
 
 I have mentioned the poem of Statius, and must gra- 
 tify myself by recalling to the reader some beautiful 
 
408 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 lines which occur in a translation of it, among Mr. 
 Hodgson's Miscellaneous poems. He has, if possible, 
 added to the calm repose and sweetness of the original 
 description : 
 
 " Now every field and every herd is thine, 
 
 And seeming slumbers bend the mountain pine ; 
 Hush'd is the tempest's howl, the torrent's roar, 
 And the smooth wave lies pillow'd on the shore." 
 
 The verses of Plato breathe the same cool tranquillity, 
 so grateful to the contemplative mind. The image of 
 the bee sipping sweetness from the lip is not uncommon 
 in ancient poetry : 
 
 (C Lfeta cohors apium subito per rura jaeentis 
 Labra favis texit, suaves fusura loquelas." 
 
 (Anth. Lat.) 
 
 Nearly all the remaining poems of this philosopher 
 are inscriptions on the images of the rural deities, or 
 descriptive of scenery and places favourable to those 
 pursuits which constituted his pride and solace. 
 
 " Well has the sculptor what he felt express'd" 
 
 p. 369. 
 
 * Every body is acquainted with the character of the 
 illustrious Phryne. Praxiteles was one of her most 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 409 
 
 devoted admirers. Before his time,the Goddess of Beauty 
 had always been represented, whether in painting or 
 sculpture, as veiling at least half her charms in a decent 
 drapery. The statue which he executed at the order of 
 the inhabitants of Cnidos, was the first in which all those 
 charms were displayed without any concealment ; and 
 the two most beautiful courtezans of Greece, of whom 
 Phryne was one, are recorded, on this occasion, to have 
 jointly inspired the imagination, and guided the chissel 
 of the artist. 
 
 The statue, to which this inscription refers, was 
 chosen by Phryne herself, in preference to all the other 
 works of her lover, of which he offered her the selection ; 
 and the Epigram itself, distinguished for an elegance of 
 thought and expression, which St. Evremond would not 
 have despised, was composed by Simonides, and engraved 
 by Praxiteles himself upon the pedestal. We are in- 
 formed by Pausanias (i. 20.) that Praxiteles considered 
 the image in question as a chef d'ceuvre of his art. 
 
 For more particulars of the lady here mentioned, the 
 reader may consult the 13th book of Athenseus. 
 
 " This female, so the poets sing" p. 371. 
 
 The statue to which this inscription relates was also 
 by Praxiteles. The imitation of Ausonius is less servile 
 than most of his copies from the Greek : 
 
410 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Vivebam : sum facta silex, quae deinde polita 
 Praxitelis manibus, vivo iterum Niobe. 
 Reddidit artificis manus omnia, sed sine sensu. 
 Hunc ego, cum lsesi numina, non habui." 
 
 The following is by Voltaire : 
 
 " Le fatal courroux des Dieux 
 Changea cette femme en pierre. 
 Le sculpteur a fait bien mieux. 
 II a fait tout le contraire." 
 
 " Cytherafrom this craggy steep" p. 371. 
 
 From an Epigram by Posidippus, we learn that to 
 Venus Zephyritis, whose temple stood on the promon- 
 tory of Zephyrion, near Alexandria, was ascribed the 
 power of calming the sea, and giving a prosperous navi- 
 gation to sailors. This divine influence was, however, 
 far from being confined to the Egyptian goddess. The 
 powers of Love and Beauty universally enjoy the same 
 attribute. The former is termed by Plato, " The giver 
 of peace to man, of serenity to the ocean ; who bids the 
 winds to cease, and confers repose and sleep upon the 
 miserable." 
 
 He sets the mind of man at peace, 
 He smooths the billows of the main, 
 
 He bids the raging tempest cease, 
 And gives delicious rest to pain. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 411 
 
 This is also among the most prominent features of the 
 " Alma Venus" of Lucretius : 
 
 " Te Dea, te fugiunt venti, &c. 
 tibi rident sequora ponti." 
 
 In an imperfect Epigram of Apollonides, we find a 
 couplet, which (as corrected by Jacobs) may be suspected 
 of being the original from which Lucretius borrowed the 
 latter circumstance of his exquisite picture. 
 
 "Kaipsi h'ot[J,(pi <rs 7T0VT0S, U7T0 ge<pvpoio irvoyviv 
 
 A£pOV VTTSp VWTOU KVOCVSOV ys\CKTOl$ t 
 
 There is no end of quotation : yet, let us notice the 
 
 TlovTioov fa KV[xuToov ocvY}pi^(j.ov ys\ct<rpct of iEschylus, if it 
 were only for the sake of Potter's admirable translation ; 
 
 (< Ye waves, 
 That o'er the interminable ocean wreathe 
 Your crisped smiles !" JEsch. Prometheus. 
 
 Moncrif supposes the lovers who enter the temple of 
 Venus to be consoled by repeating the thought or the 
 name nearest to their heart. 
 
 In former time a temple rose, 
 
 (Its honours now are lost ;) 
 Where lovers hasten'd to disclose 
 
 The thought that charm'd them most* 
 
412 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 If now this temple could be found 
 
 That flourish 'd long before thee, 
 How often should we hear it sound 
 
 €t Sweet Helen, I adore thee !" B. 
 
 Many of the early reformers have amused themselves 
 with particularising the resemblances, both real and fan- 
 cied, to be found between the objects of Pagan worship 
 and those of the Romish church. Among others, a re- 
 markable affinity has been observed, however incredible 
 it may appear, between the Holy Virgin of the one, 
 and the " Mother of warm desires" of the other re- 
 ligion. The statue of the former now occupies the 
 same situation at the port of Savona, as that of the latter 
 in the marine temple celebrated in the Epigram ; and 
 the inscription which it bears, and which are the words 
 of a hymn sung by the Mediterranean seamen when in 
 apprehension of danger from tempests, might have been 
 addressed, in the very same words too, by an ancient 
 Roman to the Goddess of beauty : 
 
 " In mare irato, in subita procella, 
 Invoco te, nostra benigna stella !" 
 
 This little distich is at once good Latin and good 
 Italian. See Forsyth's Remarks on Italy. 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 413 
 
 ** When from the bosom of her parent flood" p. 371. 
 
 I have already mentioned Phryne, and the elevation of 
 her beauty into an object of adoration to the inhabitants 
 of Cnidos. What Praxiteles did for them, Apelles per- 
 formed for the people of Cos. He is said to have acci- 
 dentally seen her as, in celebration of the festival of 
 Neptune at Eleusis, she was bathing among other females 
 in the sea; and his imagination was so impressed with 
 her perfections, as to have shortly after produced his 
 picture of the Venus Anadyomene. This picture was 
 painted for the temple of the Coan goddess, and soon 
 became famous all over Greece and Asia. Leoniuas is 
 one only, out of many poets, whose tributes of admira- 
 tion to this exquisite performance, are preserved in the 
 Anthology. 
 
 The works of Apelles and Praxiteles have become the 
 models of imitation for all subsequent artists who have 
 undertaken to represent the Goddess in the bath or at 
 the toilet. The Medicean statue, that of the Capitol, 
 and that discovered at Aries (all now deposited in the 
 Muse^e Napoleon) were formed after their example. The 
 work of Praxiteles also survives to us in some medals, 
 struck by the people of Cnidos, unquestionably in com- 
 memoration of their favourite statue. Many Roman 
 ladies, of the highest distinction, chose to be represented 
 in a character which displayed their personal perfections 
 in so captivating a point of view, For instance, Julia 
 
414 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Soemias, the mother of Heliogahalus. See the work of 
 M. Millin already referred to. 
 
 The exclamation in the following Epigram, (My naked 
 charms ! &c.) has been happily rendered by Ausonius, 
 and has attracted the imitative powers of several French 
 epigrammatists. The first of these that I shall mention 
 is M. Cocquard, an advocate of Dijon, who translated 
 thirty-nine Epigrams out of the Anthology, and published 
 them in a volume of Poesies Diverses in 1754. Most of 
 them are reported by M. Chardon de la Rochette to be 
 very paltry \ but the following is laughable for its oddity 
 of expression ; 
 
 c f A Gnide, un jour, sur sa statue 
 Venus ayant jete les yeux, 
 Oh, oh! dit-elle; et dans quels lieux 
 Praxitele m'a-t-il done vue ?" 
 
 The next is by Voltaire, or at least published by him 
 as his own, in the Questions sur FEncyclop&lie. 
 
 u Oui — je me montrai toute nue 
 Au Dieu Marsj au bel Adonis ; 
 A Vulcain meme — et j'en rougis — 
 Mais — Praxitele oii m'a-t-il vue ?" 
 
 By the way, Voltaire's plagiarisms are not much ad- 
 verted to by English readers ; and it is worth while, 
 therefore, to mention what M. de la Rochette says on 
 this subject, in speaking of the half dozen of Epigrams 
 which he has given as his own in the paper already 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 415 
 
 referred to. (Quest, sur FEncycl. Art. Epigramme.) 
 One M. Longespierre gave a translation of several pieces 
 from the Anthology, in his remarks on Anacreon, 
 Theocritus, &c. published in 1 684-8. Their execution 
 is in general very indifferent, but some few are so happy, 
 that the finest, the most accomplished, and the most 
 fortunate genius of our days, did not disdain to borrow 
 them without acknowledgment. 
 
 In the article to which I have already referred, Voltaire 
 gives us, as a translation from the Greek, what is no 
 where to be met with except in Martial. It is, however, 
 much the prettiest of all the pieces here mentioned : 
 
 (( L^andre, conduit par r Amour, 
 En nageant disoit aux orages, 
 " Laissez moi gager les rivages — 
 Ne me noyez qu'h mon retour." 
 
 As bold Leander stemm'd the tide 
 With fainter arm, and sinking force, 
 
 ** Grant me to reach the shore !" he cried, 
 " I care not for my backward course." M. 
 
 " Parcite dum propero — mergite dum redeo." 
 
 w Fair Queen of Love ! those arms you bear." 
 
 p. 372. 
 
 • « 
 
 The goddess appears, in this and the succeeding Epi- 
 grams, under a very different form from that which is 
 
416 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 celebrated in those which I have last noticed. It is sin- 
 gular enough that' the Spartans should have so trans- 
 formed the gentlest of their deities to meet the severity 
 of their own amatory discipline ; and, not the less so, as 
 although they clothed their goddess in armour, they 
 stripped their women naked. Natalis Comes has imi- 
 tated this Epigram of Leonidas, and that which follows 
 has been twice copied by Ausonius. Prior has very 
 much enlarged upon all his models, and adds the well 
 known compliment of Anacreon : 
 
 Avt ey%su)V owravrccv. 
 
 The same thought has been prettily expressed by one 
 of the old bards of " England's Helicon." 
 
 " Sweet (alass !) why say you thus ? 
 Concord better fitteth us, 
 Leave to Mars the force of hands. 
 Your power in your beauty stands." 
 
 The ancient dispute between these rival goddesses has 
 been happily enough imagined to be settled in the fol- 
 owing Latin Epigram : 
 
 " Hesperie lateri redirnicula nectit eburno, 
 Facta suis manibus, pectore digna suo. 
 Jam veteres iras Venus et Triton ia ponit : 
 Pectora nam Veneris Palladis ambit opus." 
 
DESCRIPTIVE. 417 
 
 Hesperia o'er her fair and virgin breast 
 Has cast the veil her virgin fingers wove : 
 
 Here, mighty rivals, let your discord rest: 
 
 The web by great Tritonia's art imprest 
 
 Adorns the bosom of the Queen of Love ! M. 
 
 The compliment paid by Prior to the charms of his 
 mistress, is framed upon the model of these Epigrams of 
 the Grecian poets : 
 
 " When Chloe's picture was to Venus shown, 
 Surprised, the goddess took it for her own ; 
 And what, said she, does this bold painter mean ? 
 When was I bathing thus and naked seen? 
 Pleased Cupid heard, and check' d his mother's pride 
 And who's blind now, mamma ? the urchin cried. 
 'Tis Chloe's eye, and cheek, and lip, and breast : 
 Friend Howard's genius fancied all the rest/' 
 
 E e 
 

DE D IC ATORY 
 
DEDICATORY, 
 
 Leonidas Alexandrinus, 12. ii. 192. 
 ON THE VOTIVE IMAGE OF A LION. M. 
 
 In the dark winters night, while all around 
 The furious hail-storm clatters on the ground, 
 While every field is deep in drifted snow, 
 And Boreas bids his bitterest tempests blow, 
 A solitary lion, gaunt and grim, 
 Ravenous with cold, and numb'd in every limb, 
 Stalks to the goat-herd's miserable shed, 
 From the rude air to shield his storm-beat head. 
 The astonish'd natives of this lonely spot 
 With cries of stifled horror fill the cot ; 
 No more their numerous herds demand their care, 
 While for themselves they pour the broken prayer, 
 And call the Saviour Jove, as fix'd they stand 
 Together press'd, a trembling shuddering band. 
 Meanwhile the lordly savage, safe and warm, 
 Stays through the pelting of the wintry storm, 
 Then calmly quits the whole affrighted horde, 
 And leaves their meal untouch'd upon the board. 
 
422 DEDICATORY. 
 
 In grateful memory of so rare a fate, 
 The swains to Jove this offering consecrate, 
 And still suspended from the oak-tree shew 
 This faithful image of their generous foe. 
 
 Leonidas, 40. i. 228. 
 
 AN OFFERING TO THE RURAL DEITIES. M. 
 
 To Pan, the master of the woodland plain, 
 
 To young Lyseus, and the azure train 
 
 Of nymphs who make the pastoral life their care, 
 
 With offerings due old Areas pours his prayer. 
 
 To Pan a playful kid, in wars untried, 
 
 He vows, yet sporting by the mother's side ; 
 
 Luxuriant on the green entangled vine, 
 
 This blushing cluster to the God of wine ; 
 
 And to the gentler Deities, who guide 
 
 Their winding streamlets o'er the mountain's side, 
 
 Each fruit that swells in autumn's sunny bowers, 
 
 Mix'd with the purple fragrance of its flowers. 
 
 Therefore, ye Nymphs, enrich my narrow field 
 
 With the full stores your bounteous fountains yield \ 
 
 Pan, bid my luscious pails with milk o'erflow, 
 
 And, Bacchus, teach my mellow vines to glow ! 
 
DEDICATORY. 423 
 
 Uncertain, 177. iii. 186. 
 THE GARDENER S OFFERING. B. 
 
 To Pan, the guardian of my narrow soil, 
 Who gave my fruits to grow, and blest my toil, 
 Pure water and a votive fig I bear, 
 A scant oblation from the teeming year : 
 The fruit ambrosial in thy garden blush 'd, 
 And from thy rock the living water gush'd : 
 Receive the tribute from my niggard urn, 
 Nor with thy bounty weigh my poor return. 
 
 Bacchylides, 20. i. 153. 
 
 THE HUSBANDMAN^ OFFERING. 
 
 To Zephyr, kindest wind that swells the grain, 
 Eudemus consecrates this humble fane ; 
 For that he listen'd to his vows, and bore 
 On his soft wings the rich autumnal store. 
 
 Julian, 8. ii. 495. 
 
 THE FISHERMAN^ OFFERING. M, 
 
 To Ocean's Nymphs old Cynaras gives o'er 
 This useless net, which he can cast no more. 
 Now sport, ye fish, securely on the sea ; 
 For he no longer threats your liberty. 
 
424 DEDICATORY. 
 
 Leontdas, 19. i. 225. 
 
 THE OFFERING OF THREE BROTHER SPORTSMEN. 
 
 M. 
 Three brothers dedicate, oh Pan ! to thee, 
 
 Their nets, the various emblems of their toil ; 
 
 Pigres, who brings from realms of air his spoil, 
 Dam is from woods, and Clitor from the sea : 
 So may the treasures of the deep be given 
 To this, to those the fruits of earth and heaven. 
 
 Macedonius, 24. iii. 11T. 
 THE POETS OFFERING. B. 
 
 There hang, my lyre ! This aged hand no more 
 Shall wake the strings to rapture known before. 
 Farewell, ye chords ! Ye. verse-inspiring powers, 
 Accept the solace of my former hours ! 
 Be gone to youths, ye instruments of song .' 
 For crutches only to the old belong. 
 
 Callimachus, 31, i. 468. 
 THE VIRGIN'S OFFERING TO VENUS. M. 
 
 Queen of the Zephyr's breezy cape ! to thee 
 This polish'd shell, the treasure of the sea, 
 
DEDICATORY. 425 
 
 Her earliest offering, young Selena bears, 
 Join'd with the incense of her maiden prayers. 
 Erewhile with motion, power, and sense endued, 
 Alive it floated on the parent flood ; 
 When, if the gale more rudely breathed, it gave 
 Its natural sail expanded to the wave. 
 But while the billows slept upon the shore, 
 And the tempestuous winds forgot to roar, 
 Like some proud galley, floated on the tide, 
 And busy feet the want of oars supplied. 
 Shipwreck'd at last upon the Iulian strand, 
 It now, Arsinoe, asks thy favouring hand ; 
 No more its vows the plaintive Halcyon hail 
 For the soft breathings of a western gale, 
 But that, oh mighty Queen ! thy genial power 
 On young Selena every gift may shower 
 That love with beauteous innocence can share : 
 For these, and only these, accept the prayer ! 
 
 Agathias, 32. iii. 45. 
 THE MOTHER'S OFFERING. M. 
 
 Venus, this chaplet take ! Callirhoe pray'd, 
 
 The youth I loved, thy power hath made him mine ; 
 
 This lock to thee I vow, Athenian maid ! 
 By thee, I holy kept my virgin shrine ; 
 
 To Artemis my zone ; a mother's joy 
 
 §he gave me to possess, my beauteous boy. 
 
426 DEDICATORY. 
 
 Antipater, 9. ii. 8. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S OFFERING. M. 
 
 To Pallas Lysistrata offered her thimble, 
 
 Her distaff, of matronly prudence the symbol : 
 
 Take this too, she said, then adieu mighty Queen ! 
 
 Fm a widow, and only eight lustres IVe seen. 
 
 So thy yoke I renounce ; and henceforward decree 
 
 To live with Love's goddess, and prove that I'm free. 
 
 Simonides, 63. i. 138. 
 
 THE OFFERING OF THE COURTEZANS. M, 
 
 Coelia and Lyce, once to lovers known, 
 
 To Venus vow the portrait and the zone : 
 
 Oh, wandering God of trade ! Thy purse can tell 
 
 Both whence the zone, and whence the portrait fell. 
 
 Plato, T. i. 170. 
 THE OFFERING OF LAIS TO VENUS. B. 
 
 I, who erewhile, in fame and beauty proud, 
 Before my lattice drew an amorous crowd, 
 
DEDICATORY. 427 
 
 Lais the fair, my hateful glass resign, 
 An offering, heavenly Venus, at thy shrine ; 
 For what I am 'tis piteous to behold, 
 And time has ruin'd what I was of old. 
 
 Julianus, 4. ii. 494. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. 
 
 Ogle. 
 
 Lais, when time had spoil'd her wonted grace, 
 
 Abhorr'd the look of age that plough'd her face ; 
 
 Her glass, sad monitor of charms decay'd, 
 
 Before the queen of lasting bloom she laid : 
 
 The sweet companion of my youthful years 
 
 Be thine (she said), no change thy beauty fears I 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT ; 
 
 IMITATED FROM AUSONIUS. 
 
 Venus, take my votive glass ! 
 Since I am not wbat I was, 
 What from this day I shall be, 
 Venus ! let me never see. 
 
 Prior. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 DEDICATORY. 
 
 " In the dark winter's night, when all around" 
 
 p. 421. 
 
 The little incidents and varieties of the pastoral life 
 were neither unfrequent nor uninteresting subjects for a 
 Grecian poet. The pictures or statues which were 
 offered up in commemoration of any signal deliverance, 
 were usually accompanied with an inscription, detailing 
 the circumstances which attended it. In this poem, the 
 images appear -to be very picturesque and poetical. 
 Brunck ascribes it to the Tarentine, not the Alexandrian 
 Leonidas ; and Jacobs would render the dedication ITav/, 
 to Pan, instead of Zaw, to Jupiter. 
 
 " To Pan, the guardian of the woodland plain" 
 
 p. 422. 
 
 The offerings to the rural deities appear to have been 
 of the same pure and primitive simplicity as those which, 
 according to the Institutes of Menu, are supposed to be 
 
430 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 peculiarly grateful to the spirits of departed Hindoos. 
 u The divine manes are always pleased with an oblation 
 in empty glades, naturally clean, on the banks of rivers, 
 and in solitary spots." 
 
 H And here did Kailyal, each returning day 3 
 Pour forth libations from the brook, to pay 
 The spirits of her sires the grateful rite : 
 In such libations, pour'd in open glades, 
 Beside clear streams, in solitary shades, 
 The spirits of the virtuous dead delight." 
 
 Southey's Kehama. 
 
 t( To Zephyr, kindest wind that swells the grain,'* 
 
 p. 423. 
 
 There seems to be some doubt on what account 
 Eudemus consecrated the temple here mentioned to the 
 western wind ; and commentators are not wanting who 
 will have it, that it was not so much by reason of his 
 fertilizing powers, as of his peculiar talent in separating 
 the grain from the chaff during the operation of thrash- 
 ing. If so, I beg pardon of Bacchylides for giving him 
 a different meaning. 
 
 iS Three brothers dedicate, oh Pan I to thee" p. 424. 
 
 What there is in the subject of this Epigram to 
 have attracted so much rivalship, I know not ; but, as 
 
DEDICATORY. 431 
 
 Jacobs says, for some reason or other, i( hoc argumentum 
 Anthologiae poetae usque ad fastidium repetiverunt." It 
 might be curious to trace the different inducements to 
 so many imitations, and imitations of imitations, as are 
 to be found in various parts of these Collections, often 
 where they would be least expected. There are few 
 pieces of Leonidas, however insignificant the subject, 
 that have not experienced the fate of repeated plagiarism. 
 
 " There hang, my lyre I this aged hand no more" 
 
 p. 424. 
 
 In the original, the name of the poet is Eumolpus ; 
 but I would rather imagine that this, in common with 
 most of the dedicatory Epigrams, was founded on some 
 real subject, than suppose, with Jacobs, that it is a mere 
 exercise of the fancy on the name of the mythological 
 son of Musseus. 
 
 " Queen of the Zephyr's breezy cape ! to thee" p. 324. 
 
 It was a general custom among the Greeks (and from 
 them, as we learn from a passage in Persius, derived to 
 the Romans) for girls, when arrived at a marriageable 
 age, to consecrate to Venus the favourite toys of their 
 childish years. To form collections of shells and marine 
 curiosities was a very fashionable pursuit of the Grecian 
 ladies ; and some rare and valuable specimen of the 
 
432 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 treasures of their cabinet, was considered as the most 
 acceptable offering that could be made upon so im- 
 portant an occasion. This solemn consecration often 
 took place on the eve of marriage ; and happy might the 
 bride esteem herself if, like our Selena, the daughter of 
 Clinias, she had it in her power to present a tribute so 
 magnificent as that of the shining conch of the Nautilus. 
 In the original Epigram the Nautilus itself is the speaker. 
 — " I do not now ask of thee, O Venus ! that which 
 when alive I was accustomed to implore, that the 
 mournful Halcyon might build her nest in the ocean for 
 me, but only that thou wouldst shower down blessings 
 on the daughter of Clinias, who is accustomed to all 
 good works, and was born in the JEolian Smyrna. ,, The 
 " Venus Zephyritis," to whom this Epigram was in- 
 scribed, and whom I have had occasion to mention in a 
 former note, was also called Chloris and Arsinoe. The 
 latter appellation betrays at once her earthly origin. She 
 was, in fact, no other than the deified wife of Ptolomy 
 Philadelphus. 
 
 Jacobs, in his commentary on this poem, describes 
 the Nautilus in the following terms, after Aristotle and 
 others of the ancients. " Nautilum tenuem membranam, 
 tanquam velum, inter duo brachia verrtis obtendere, 
 omnes qui hanc concham describunt veteres tradunt." 
 But, to my surprise he adds, " Inter recentiores sunt 
 qui de veritate hujus traditionis dubitent." Who these 
 " recentiores" (who so doubt the existence of this most 
 
DEDICATORY. 433 
 
 beautiful animal,) may be, I cannot take upon me to 
 conjecture ; but in case any of my readers should incline 
 to be sceptical about it, I shall refer them to the exqui- 
 site engraving of the " Paper Nautilus/' in Daniell's 
 a Views of Animated Nature/' a representation which 
 so exactly answers to the description conveyed by the 
 verses of Callimachus, that I was equally astonished and 
 delighted at the resemblance. The " natural sail," and 
 "oars" are particularly observable ; and the apparent 
 delicacy of its beautiful texture is precisely what we 
 should expect to find from the poetical picture which has 
 been set before us. In the short account of the animal 
 annexed, it is said, that they are frequently seen in 
 large numbers on the sea, near the coast of Egypt, when 
 the weather is perfectly fair and serene ; but that their 
 slender forms are unable to endure the motion even of a 
 moderate breeze, which often destroys, or strands them 
 on the beach. This is the true meaning, then, of the 
 expression which I have rendered 
 
 " No more its vows the plaintive Halcyon hail 
 For the soft breathings of the western gale," 
 
 in the original, " No more shall the Halcyon lay its eggs 
 for me as heretofore /' which Jacobs rightly discerns 
 to need a figurative, not a literal, interpretation. 
 
 Ff 
 
434 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 (i To Pallas Lysistrata offered her thimble" p. 426. 
 
 It will be evident enough that the names of modern 
 implements are here substituted in the room of those, 
 the use and meaning of which it might have been diffi- 
 cult to render intelligible, without an accompanying 
 explanation of the terms. Jacobs quarrels with the 
 word xfyV) an( ^ insists upon it that there is no necessity 
 for making this fair dedicatrix a widow. What may be 
 the commentator's private reason for this tenderness on 
 behalf of widows, it is not for me to conjecture ; but I 
 cannot, for my own part, see any objection to the com- 
 mon reading. The composition itself is satirical ; and 
 it probably originated in the conduct of some individual 
 lady now forgotten, who happened to be both forty years 
 of age, and lately freed from the dominion of a husband. 
 
 " Ccelia and Lyce, once to lovers known." p. 424. 
 
 Mercury was the god of trade; and the particular 
 species of commerce in which the ladies mentioned in 
 this Epigram were engaged, was only a branch of his 
 business. This subject is well illustrated by the figures 
 of an antique gem, in which Mercury is represented 
 with his purse, in the act of presenting it to Venus. The 
 gallantry of the speech which is attributed to him in the 
 Odyssey, by the bard who sings the loves of Mars and 
 Venus, proves his partiality to that goddess. 
 
DEDICATORY. 435 
 
 Anacreon accused the lovers of his time of being 
 swayed more by interest than passion, i^ovov upyvpov 
 (3te7rov<rw. In the days of George Brossin they were not 
 more disinterested. 
 
 (e Aux tems heureux ou.regnoit l'innocence 
 On goutait en aimant mille et mille douceurs ; 
 Et les amans ne faisoient de depense 
 Qu'en soins et qu'en tendres ardeurs 5 
 Mais aujourd'hui sans l'opulence, 
 II faut renoncer aux plaisirs : 
 Un amant qui ne peut depenser qu'en soupirs, 
 N'est plus paye qu'en espe>anee."' 
 
 George Brossin, Chevalier de Mere\ 
 
 In the ages when innocence reign'd, 'twas a pleasure 
 To listen to love, and encourage his fires ; 
 
 No splendor persuaded, they lavish'd no treasure 
 But of cares, and attentions, and tender desires. 
 
 But now without fortune, 'twere surely more wise 
 To renounce the delight that must lead to delusion, 
 
 For the lover, whose only expense is in sighs, 
 
 Will be paid but with hope for a life of profusion. B. 
 
 " Muneribus capiuntur corda puellse," sings that 
 veteran of the Roman school. — Dufresnoy attempts to 
 caution the fair from trying to over-reach their admirers, 
 by the following awful example : 
 
436 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 (C Phillis, plus avare que tendre, 
 Ne gagnant rien a refuser, 
 Un jour exigea de Silvandre 
 Trente moutons pour un baiser. 
 
 Le lendemain nouvelle affaire ! 
 Pour le berger le troc fut bon : 
 Car il obtint de sa bergere 
 Trente baisers pour un mouton. 
 
 Le lendemain Phillis plus tendre, 
 Craignant de deplaire au berger, 
 Fut trop heureuse de lui rendre 
 Trente moutons pour un baiser. 
 
 Le lendemain Phillis plus sage 
 Auroit donne* moutons et chien 
 Pour un baiser que le volage 
 Donnoit a Lisette pour rien." 
 
 The bad Bargain, 
 
 Phyllis, more covetous than tender, 
 Demanded, ere she gave the bliss, 
 
 That Lubin should forthwith surrender 
 A score of sheep to have a kiss. 
 
DEDICATORY. 437 
 
 Next day the avaricious maid 
 
 Such monstrous gain refused to reap, 
 
 But offer'd fair, and fairly paid 
 A score of kisses for a sheep. 
 
 Next day the simple girl, for fear 
 Her lad might take the change amiss, 
 
 To make the balance almost clear, 
 Return'd his twenty for a kiss. 
 
 Next day she thought, reflecting more, 
 Her sheep and dog were not too many 
 
 For but one kiss of all the score 
 
 That Lubin gave away to Fanny. B. 
 
 Horace joins his voice to the chorus of complaints 
 which gallants, and more especially poetical gallants, 
 have at all times made against the selfish fair : 
 
 " Seu vocat institor, 
 Seu navis Hispanae magister 
 Dedecorum pretiosus emptor." 
 
 Lord Albemarle, when advanced in years, was the 
 lover and protector of Mademoiselle Gaucher. Her\ 
 name of infancy, and that by which she was more en- 
 deared to her admirer, was Lolotte. One evening as 
 they were walking together, perceiving her eyes fixed on 
 a star, he said to her, " Do not look at it so earnestly 
 
438 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 my dear, I cannot give it you." Never, says Marmontel, 
 did love express itself more delicately. 
 
 Love looks not to interest ; its resemblance may do 
 so ; but to a heart really devoted the iveriest trifle is of 
 inestimable value. How delightfully is this feeling 
 coucned in the following fugitive thought ! I know not 
 whence it fell into my hand, nor who gave birth to it ; 
 but its delicacy and tenderness struck me at first sight, 
 although the subject on which it turns is perhaps not 
 sufficiently obvious : 
 
 " Je ne changerais pas pour la coupe des rois 
 Le petit verre que tu vois : 
 Ami, c'est qu'il est fait de la meme fougere, 
 Sur laquelle cent fois 
 Reposa ma bergere" 
 
 Why it should have inspired the follovving trifling 
 song I know not : 
 
 I would not change for cups of gold 
 This little cup that you behold : 
 'Tis from the beech that gave a shade 
 At noon-day to my village maid. 
 
 I would not change for Persian loom 
 The humble matting of my room ; 
 'Tis of those very rushes twined 
 Oft pressed by charming Rosalinde. 
 
DEDICATORY. 439 
 
 I would not change my lowly wicket 
 That opens on her favourite thicket, 
 For portal proud, or towers that frown, 
 The monuments of old renown. 
 
 I would not change this foolish heart, 
 That learns from her to joy or smart, 
 For his that burns with love of glory, 
 And loses life to live in story. 
 
 Yet, in themselves, my heart, my cot, 
 My mat, my bowl, I value not ; 
 But only as they, one and all, 
 My lovely Rosalinde recall, B. 
 
 As love should be kept alive, so should it be known 
 by trifles. The following piece of simplicity is not so 
 simple as it seems : 
 
 cc L'autre jour sur Therbette 
 Mon chien vint te flatter, 
 D'un coup de ta houlette 
 Tu sus bien Tecarter. 
 
 Mais quand le sien, cruelle, 
 Par hazard suit tes pas, 
 Par son nom tu Tappelles, 
 Non — tu ne m'aimes pas." 
 
440 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 (e Love me, love my dog." 
 
 My faithful Tray the other day 
 
 Came f awing to your feet, 
 You raised your crook with angry look 
 
 And made him quick retreat. 
 
 Should Lubin's Tray fall in your way, 
 
 No angry looks, I wot ; 
 You coax and play with Lubin's Tray — 
 
 No, no — you love me not. B, 
 
 The French, says Sterne, make love by talking of it — 
 Moncrif recommends the method of his countrymen 
 by some stanzas, which appear to me natural and pretty. 
 
 Stanzas imitated from Moncrif, 
 
 A lass may scorn each amorous art, 
 But his who knows to write and read. 
 
 I knew not Colin sought my heart, 
 Until, surprised, I felt it bleed. 
 
 'Gainst love for ever he declaim'd, 
 In all he sang, in all he proved ; 
 
 But in such tender accent blamed, 
 I could not hear him blame unmoved. 
 
DEDICATORY. 441 
 
 I sang— and in the hazel wood 
 
 I caught him listening to the lay, 
 Another sang — no more he stood, • 
 
 But turnM his back, and strode away. 
 
 In yonder copse, one day to prove 
 
 That love to madness was allied, 
 He managed, in condemning love, 
 
 For hours to talk of nought beside. 
 
 "I, who ereivhile in fame and heauty proud." p. 423. 
 
 Notwithstanding the insensibility which has been 
 ascribed to the followers of Plato, with respect to the 
 influence of female charms, it is certain that the father 
 of that philosophy was himself far from being always on 
 his guard against the various modes in which Love has 
 carried on his attacks against the human heart. We 
 possess an Epigram of his, in honour of Archaeanassa 
 of Colophon ; and Lais shared his adoration in common 
 with that of many of the greatest philosophers of 
 Greece. 
 
 The influence attained and exercised by this most 
 celebrated of courtezans, over all ranks and classes of 
 society in Greece, is well known, and has been well ex- 
 pressed in her epitaph, preserved by Athenaeus, lib. xv. 
 
 Greece, once the nurse of generous hearts, 
 Mistress of nations, Queen of arts, 
 
442 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 No longer great, no longer free, 
 
 Yields to a willing slavery. 
 
 A girl of Corinth holds the chain 
 
 Which circled once the Ionian main. M. 
 
 From a satirical fragment, transmitted to us by the 
 same author, we are led to understand that, after the ab- 
 juration of her looking-glass, she took to dram-drinking ; 
 so that, it is to be hoped, the story of her being torn to 
 pieces by the Thessalian ladies, out of envy, is nothing 
 more than allegorical. However that may be, she acted 
 a wiser part by resigning her looking glass in good 
 season, than the lady upon whom a certain German 
 Epigrammatist composed these very ill natured verses : 
 
 " Nullis uxor Afri terretur Amantia monstris. 
 In speculo didicit, ferret ut ilia, suo." 
 
 Nor ghost nor goblin can Amantia fright ; 
 
 From her own glass she learns to bear their sight. M. 
 
 Or than the gentleman who gave occasion to those 
 that follow : 
 
 " Barbatos vidisse negat se Grunnus asellos : 
 
 An nunquam speculum consulit ergo suum ?" 
 
 Grunnus ne'er saw (he says) a bearded ass : 
 
 What then ? did Grunnus ne'er consult his glass ? M. 
 
DEDICATORY. 443 
 
 Amphis, the comic poet, was author of a piece en- 
 titled " Acco," from the name of one of its principal 
 characters, an old woman, so infatuated with the sup- 
 posed charms of her person, that one day she was de- 
 tected in walking backwards and forwards before her 
 looking-glass, dressed in a new gown only half finished, 
 and talking to her image as to another female. This 
 scene must have had a ludicrous effect on the stage, 
 Her dramatic character became so popular, that a new 
 verb was coined to express this high degree of self appro- 
 bation, for which she was so conspicuous — uxxiZ&rScum 
 
 There is* somewhere a very pretty thought in French, 
 the original of which I do not remember ; but this is 
 the sentiment which it conveys. 
 
 Iris, in this mirror see 
 
 The image of my constant loves. 
 Oh ! might it but reflect to me 
 
 Him whom thy yielding heart approves. 
 
 To return to the immediate subject before us. Voltaire 
 has thus rendered the same Epigram, which Ausonius 
 had Latinized before him : 
 
 " Je le donne k Venus, puisqu'elle est toujours belle : 
 II redouble trop mes ennuis. 
 Je ne saurois me voir dans ce miroir fidelle, 
 Ni telle que j'e'tais, ni telle que je suis." 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 

SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Luciano 24. ii. 313. 
 THE PHYSICIAN AND HIS SON. B. 
 
 A Doctor, fond of letters, once agreed 
 Beneath my care his son should learn to read. 
 The lad soon knew " Achilles' wrath" to sing, 
 And said by heart, " To Greece the direful spring. 
 e Tis quite enough, my dear,' the parent said ; 
 s For too much learning might confuse your head. 
 * c That wrath which hurls to Pluto's gloomy reign,' 
 * Go, tell your tutor, I can best explain. 
 
 Lucillius, 124. ii. 343. 
 THE GOOD PHYSICIAN. B. 
 
 When Magnus sought the realms of night, 
 Grim Pluto trembled for his right. 
 " That fellow comes," he said, i( 'tis plain, 
 To call my ghosts to life again." 
 
448 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Nicarchus, 27. ii. 355. 
 AN EPITAPH. M. 
 
 No — blame not the Doctor — no clyster he gave me, 
 He ne'er felt my pulse, never reach'd my bed- side ; 
 
 But, as I lay sick, my friends, anxious to save me, 
 In my hearing just mention'd his name— and I died. 
 
 Lutillius, 76 ii. 332. 
 
 ON PHYSICIANS AND POETS. M. 
 
 Not Deucalion's deluge, nor Phaeton's roast, 
 Ever sent such a cart-load to Phlegethon's coast, 
 As our Laureate with odes and with elegies kills, 
 And our Doctor destroys with infallible pills. 
 Then well these four plagues with each other may vie, 
 Deucalion and Phaeton, B m and P . 
 
 Lucillius, 72. ii. 331. 
 
 ON POETS. B. 
 
 Give me the bard accustomed to regale 
 His hungry auditors with beef and ale ; 
 Who oft his friends with savoury pasty cheers, 
 Or pays with pudding those who lend their ears. 
 May he who this forgets, with rhyme content, 
 Dine on sweet thoughts, and sup on sentiment. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 449 
 
 Lucillius, 73. ii. 332. 
 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 When Narva asks a friend to dine, 
 
 He gives a pint of tavern wine, 
 
 A musty loaf and stinking ham, 
 
 Then overwhelms with epigram. 
 
 A kinder fate Apollo gave, 
 
 Who whelm'd beneath the Tyrrhene wave 
 
 The impious rogues that stole his kine. 
 
 Oh Narva, let their lot be mine ! 
 
 Or if no river's near your cell, 
 
 Shew me at least your deepest well, 
 
 Nicarchus,32 t ii. 356. 
 ON A BAD SINGER. M. 
 
 J Tis said that certain death awaits 
 
 The raven's nightly cry, 
 But at the sound of Cymon's voice 
 
 The very ravens die. 
 
 Gg 
 
450 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS, 
 
 Palladas, 54. ii. 418. 
 
 ON A CELEBRATED ACTOR. M. 
 
 Once, in a fearful vision of the night, 
 Lothario seem'd Rowe's frowning ghost to see. 
 " I never wrong'd thee," cried the laurell'd sprite, 
 " Oh why, Lothario, dost thou murder me ?" 
 
 Lucilius, 93. ii. 337. 
 ON A BAD PAINTER. M. 
 
 You paint Deucalion and Phaeton ; 
 
 And ask what price for each you should require. 
 I'll tell you what they're worth before you're done 
 
 One deserves water, and the other fire. 
 
 Nicarchus, 14. ii. 352, 
 
 THE FORTUNE-TELLER. M. 
 
 Tom prudently thinking his labour ill-spared, 
 
 If e'er, unadvised, for his plans he prepared, 
 
 Consulted a witch on his passage to Dover, 
 
 If the wind would be fair, and the voyage well over. 
 
 The seer gravely answer'd, first stroking his beard, 
 
 " If the vessel be new, and well rigg'd, and well steer'd, 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 451 
 
 if you stay all the winter, and still wait on shore, 
 Till spring is advanced, and the equinox o'er, 
 You may sail there and back, without danger or fear, 
 — Unless you are caught by a French privateer." 
 
 Agathias, 67. iii. 56. 
 
 ON A LAWYER. M. 
 
 A plaintiff thus cxplain'd his cause 
 
 To counsel learned in the laws : 
 
 " My bond-maid lately ran away, 
 
 And in her flight was met by A, 
 
 Who, knowing she belong'd to me, 
 
 Espoused her to his servant B. 
 
 The issue of this marriage, pray. 
 
 Do they belong to me, or A }" 
 
 The Lawyer, true to his vocation, 
 
 Gave sign of deepest cogitation, 
 
 Look'd at a score of books, or near, 
 
 Then hemm'd, and said, u Your case is clear. 
 
 " Those children, so begot by B 
 
 Upon your bondmaid must, you see, 
 
 Be your's, or A's. — Now, this I say : 
 
 They can't be your's, if they to A 
 
 Belong— it follows then, of course, 
 
 That if they are not his, they're yours. 
 
 Therefore, by my advice, in short, 
 
 You'll take the opinion of the court." 
 
452 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 r 
 
 Agathias, 70. iii. 58. 
 
 ON A PHILOSOPHER. M. 
 
 Nicostratus, that second Stagirite, 
 
 Who sits, like Plato, perch 'd on wisdom's height, 
 
 A simple scholar thus address'd one day, 
 
 u What is the soul, oh Sage illumined, say — 
 
 Mortal, or deathless ? Suhstance, or mere shade ? 
 
 Of reasoning sense, or naked feeling made ; 
 
 Or both alike? Resolve my doubts,"-— he said. 
 
 The Sage his books of meteors 'gan unroll, 
 
 And Aristotle's Treatise on the Soul, 
 
 And Plato's Phsedon to its source explored, 
 
 Where truth from Heaven's eternal fount is poured ; 
 
 Then waved his wand, applied it to his chin, 
 
 And uttered thus the oracle within : 
 
 " If all the world be soul — (and if 'tis so 
 
 Or not, I must confess, I do not know) — 
 
 But if, I say, all nature spirit be, 
 
 It must be mortal, or from death be free ; 
 
 Must be substantial, or, if not, mere shade ; 
 
 Of reasoning sense, or naked feeling made, 
 
 Or both, or neither : but, my friend," he said, 
 
 " If more you wish to learn, to Hades go, 
 
 And there, as much as Plato, soon you'll know ; 
 
 Or, if you choose, ascend the rampart's height, 
 
 Mimic Cleombrotus, and " plunge to night f 
 
 Quit this encumbering vest of moisten'd clay, . 
 
 And then, return and teach me, if you may." 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 453 
 
 THE HONEST SHEPHERD. 
 
 Prior. 
 When hungry wolves had trespass'd on the fold, 
 And the robbM shepherd his sad story told, 
 {e Call in Alcides," said a crafty priest, 
 cc Give him one half, and he'll secure the rest." 
 No, said the shepherd, if the Fates decree, 
 By ravaging my flock, to ruin me, 
 To their commands I willingly resign ; 
 Power is their character, and patience mine : 
 Though, 'troth, to me there seems but little odds 
 Who prove the greatest robbers, — wolves or gods. 
 
 Aristophon,(Fragm. Com, Poet.) 
 
 THE VISIT OF PYTHAGORAS TO HELL. 
 
 Cumberland. 
 I've heard this arrogant impostor tell, 
 Among the wonders which he saw in Hell, 
 That Pluto with his scholars sat and fed, 
 Singling them out from the inferior dead. 
 Good faith ! the monarch was not over nice 
 Thus to take up with beggary and lice. 
 
451 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 dristophon, {Frag. Com. Poet.) 
 THE DISCIPLES OE PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 CUMBE*LANI>. 
 
 So gaunt they seem, that famine never made 
 
 Of lank Philippides so mere a shade : 
 
 Of salted tunny-fish their scanty dole, 
 
 Their beverage, like the frog's, a standing pool, 
 
 With, now and then, a cabbage, at the best, 
 
 The leavings of the caterpillar's feast. 
 
 No comb approaches their dishevell'd hair 
 
 To rout the long establish'd myriads there : 
 
 On the bare ground their bed ; nor do they know 
 
 A warmer coverlid than serves the crow. 
 
 Flames the meridian sun without a cloud ? 
 
 They bask like grashoppers, and chirp as loud. 
 
 With oil they never even feast their eyes ; 
 
 The luxury of stockings they despise : 
 
 But, bare-foot as the crane, still march along 
 
 All night in chorus with the screech-owl's song. 
 
 Alexis, (dthenceus, lib. xii.) 
 
 LE'PHILOSOPHE BON VIVANT. B. 
 
 My wealthy master now resolved to seek 
 Instruction late in life, and learn to speak j 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 455 
 
 And, that in logic rules he might excell, 
 
 He fee'd a learned Doctor who lived well. 
 
 Here, at a vast expense, as suits his rank, 
 
 He drank and ate, and spoke, and ate and drank; 
 
 And, after years of study, boasts to know 
 
 The best receipt to make a fricandeau. 
 
 Lueian, 23. ii. 312. 
 ON LONG BEARDS. 
 
 If beards long and bushy true wisdom denote, 
 Then Plato must bow to a hairy he-goat. 
 
 Philo, ii. 201. 
 
 EOOLISH OLD AGE. B. 
 
 A hoary head, with sense combined, 
 Claims veneration from mankind ; 
 But, if with folly join'd, it bears 
 The badge of ignominious years. 
 
 Gray hairs will pass for sapience well, 
 Until your tongue dissolve the spell, 
 Then, as in youth, 'twill all appear, 
 No longer sense, but merely hair. 
 
456 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Lucillius, 120. ii. 342. 
 THE DESIRE OF LONG LIFE. M. 
 
 When for long life the old man pours his prayers, 
 Grant, Jove, a lengthen'd life of growing years ! 
 
 Lucillius, 101. ii. 338. 
 ON A MISER. M. 
 
 A rich man's purse, a poor man's soul is thine, 
 Starving thy body, that thy heirs may dine. 
 
 Lucillius, 52. ii. 327. 
 
 ON A NOTORIOUS THIEF. M. 
 
 Meniscus saw old Cleon's purse of gold. 
 — That purse will Cleon never more behold. 
 
 Crinagoras, 32. ii. 149. 
 
 ON ROBBERS. M. 
 
 Whatever art you learn, employ it well. 
 Thus underneath an Alpine pinnacle, 
 The bold banditti, fierce with horrid hair, 
 By ancient usage for their work prepare ; 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 457 
 
 First by false scent ingenious to betray 
 The guardian dogs, and lure them from the prey. 
 Oh wise Ligurians ! How your crafty mind 
 Is aptly framed each new device to find 
 That hurts, but none that benefits mankind ! 
 
 Bemodocus, 2. ii. 56. 
 ON A BAD MAN. M. 
 
 A viper stung a Cappadocian's hide ; 
 And, poison 'd by his blood, that instant died. 
 
 LuciUns, 107. ii. 339. 
 ENVY. H. 
 
 Poor Cleon out of envy died, 
 His brother thief to see 
 
 Nail'd near him to be crucified 
 Upon a higher tree. 
 
 Hedylus t 6. i. 484. 
 GOUT, THE DAUGHTER OF INTEMPERANCE. M, 
 While on soft beds your pillow'd limbs recline, 
 Dissolved by Bacchus and the Queen of Love, 
 Remember Gout's a daughter of that line, 
 
 And she'll dissolve them soon, my friend, by Jove. 
 
458 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Leonidas Aiexand. 32. ii. 19T. 
 " AFTER MEAT, MUSTARD/' M. 
 
 When the gorged stomach will no more allow, 
 Why'tempt me with thy dainty paps, oh sow ? 
 Soft showers descend in vain when harvest's o'er ; 
 And zephyrs vainly breathe for those on shore. 
 
 Lucian, 10. ii. 310. 
 
 AN IDLE SERVANT. B. 
 
 You feed so fast — and run so very slow — 
 Eat with your legs, and with your grinders go ! 
 
 Pherecrates {Fragm. Com. Poet.) 
 
 THE INVENTION OF LARGE DRINKING 
 
 GLASSES. 
 • Cumberland. 
 
 Remark how wisely ancient art provides 
 
 The broad brimm'd cup, with flat expanded sides, 
 
 A cup contrived for man's discreeter use, 
 
 And sober portions of the generous juice : 
 
 But woman's more ambitious thirsty soul 
 
 Soon long'd to revel in the plenteous bowl. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 459 
 
 Deep and capacious as the swelling hold 
 
 Of some strong bark, she shaped the hollow mould ; 
 
 Then turning out a vessel like a tun, 
 
 Simpering exclaim'd, "Observe ! I drink but one." 
 
 *4ntipater f 90. ii. 31. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A DRUNKEN OLD WOMAN. B, 
 
 This rudely sculptured porter-pot, 
 Denotes where sleeps a female sot ; 
 Who pass'd her life, good easy soul, 
 In sw T eetly chirping o'er her bowl. 
 Not for her friends or children dear 
 She mourns, but only for her beer. 
 Ev'n in the very grave, they say, 
 She thirsts for drink to wet her clay ; 
 And, faith, she thinks it very wrong 
 This jug should stand unfill'd so long. 
 
 Callimachus (Anthologia inedita) 
 
 EPITAPfl OF A DRUNKARD. M. 
 
 " Thee, too, Lysander, doth the grave compell ? 
 Which of thy various wines hath vanquish'd thee ? 
 Doubtless, the same by which the Centaur fell ." — 
 u My hour was come ; and, friend, 'twere quite as well 
 To spare good wine so foul a calumny."' 
 
460 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Antipater. 
 FEMALE BEAUTY. M. 
 
 With the eyes of a mole, and the arms of an ape, 
 The breast of a chicken and legs of a table, 
 
 A strong stomach has he who can look at thy shape- 
 He may swallow a church who to kiss thee is able. 
 
 Nicarchus, 12. ii. 352. 
 THE ANTIQUATED BEAUTY. B. 
 
 Of charms Niconoe might have boasted, 
 
 With reason, in her prime ; 
 Perhaps by every wit was toasted, 
 
 Who lived in Noah's time. 
 
 But now her days of love are over, 
 
 Of ogling and of sighing — 
 'Twere wise no more to seek a lover, 
 
 But think at last of dying. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 461 
 
 i 
 
 Lucian, 6. ii. 309. 
 FALSE HAIR AND ROUGE. M. 
 
 Yes — you may change your hair, but not your age, 
 Nor smooth, alas ! the wrinkles of your face ; 
 
 Yes — you may varnish o'er the tell-tale page, 
 And wear a mask for every vanish 'd grace : 
 
 Rut there's an end. No Hecuba by aid 
 
 Of rouge and ceruse is a Helen made. 
 
 Paulusy 29. iii. 80. 
 THE DRENCHED LOVER. M. 
 
 The voice of the song and the banquet was o'er, 
 And I hung up my chaplet at Glycera's door, - 
 When the mischievous girl from a window above, 
 Who look'd down and laugh'd at the offering of love, 
 Fiird with water a goblet whence Bacchus had fled, 
 And pour'd all the crystal contents on my head. 
 So drench'd was my hair, three whole days it resisted 
 All attempts of the barber to friz it or twist it ; 
 But the water (so whimsical, Love, are thy ways !) 
 While it put out my curls, set my heart in a blaze. 
 
462 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Uncertain, 65. iii. 163. 
 DIALOGUE BETWEEN A SUITOR AND HIS 
 
 mistress's MAID. M. 
 
 e< Good day, my Love !" " The same to you." 
 
 " That lovely lady,— tell me who ?" 
 
 " What's that to thee ?" " I wish to know." 
 
 ' e My mistress, then — now let me go." 
 
 « Stay—may I hope?"— " Hope !" What?— « At night?" 
 
 * Perhaps."— « Here's money,"— « Well— that's right." 
 
 " I've only silver."— « What ? No gold ? 
 
 No, Sir— my mistress can't be sold." 
 
 Uncertain, 406. iii. 237. 
 ON A WIDOWER ABOUT TO MARRY AGAIN. M. 
 
 A widower once, and court a second chain ? 
 Thus the wreck'd sailor tempts the shoals again. 
 
 Palladusy 6. ii. 407, 
 WOMEN. M. 
 
 All wives are bad— yet two blest hours they give, 
 When first they wed, and when they cease to live. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 463 
 
 Argentarius, II. ii. 268. 
 ON VERY LEAN PERSONS. H. D. 
 
 Dear Lyce, thou art wondrous thin, 
 And Fm a bag of bone and skin ; 
 
 Yet thou'rt to me a Venus ! 
 Fat lovers have not half our bliss. 
 Our very souls each other kiss. 
 
 For there's no flesh between us. 
 
 Jgathias, 75.iii. 61. 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 
 So shadow-like a form you bear, 
 
 So near allied to shapeless ftir, 
 
 That with some reason you may fear, 
 
 When you salute, to draw too near, 
 
 Lest, if your friend be short of breath, 
 
 The dire approach may prove your death, 
 
 And that poor form, so light and thin, 
 
 Be at his nostrils taken in. 
 
 Yet, if with philosophic eye 
 
 You look, you need not fear to die ; 
 
 For (if poetic tales be true) 
 
 No transformation waits for you — 
 
 You cannot, ev'n at Pluto's bar, 
 
 Be more a phantom than you ere. 
 
164 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 Lucillius, 19. ii. 321. 
 
 ON LONG NOSES. B. 
 
 Heavens, what a nose ! Forbear to look, 
 Whene'er you drink, in fount or brook : 
 For, as the fair Narcissus died, 
 When hanging o'er a fountain's side, 
 You too, the limpid water quaffing, 
 May die, my worthy sir, with laughing. 
 
 Ammianus, 15. ii. 38T. 
 THE SAME SUBJECT. M. 
 
 Dick cannot wipe his nostrils when he pleases, 
 His nose so long is, and his arm so short ; 
 
 Nor ever cries " God bless me !" x when he sneezes, 
 He cannot hear so distant a report. 
 
 Leonidas of Alexandria , 4. ii. 190. 
 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 
 When Timothy's house was on fire t'other night, 
 The wretched old man almost died with the fright; 
 For ropes and for water he bawl'd till half mad, 
 But no water was near, and no ropes to be had. 
 The fire still grew hotter, and Tim still grew madder, 
 Till he thought of Dick's nose, and it served for a ladder. 
 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 465 
 
 The Emperor Trajan, ii. 265. 
 ANOTHER. M. 
 
 Let Dick some summer's day expose 
 Before the sun his monstrous nose. 
 And stretch his giant mouth, to cause 
 Its shade to fall upon his jaws : 
 With nose so long, and mouth so wide, 
 And those twelve grinders side by side, 
 Dick, with a very little trial, 
 Would make an excellent sun-dial. 
 
 Hh 
 
[ 466 ] 
 
 RIDDLES. 
 
 From a bright sire my being springs, 
 I soar aloft, but not with wings — 
 Tears, without sorrow, to your eye 
 I draw ; and, scarcely born, I die. B. 
 
 II. 
 
 I was born on the top of a tall mountain spire ; 
 My mother a tree, and my father was fire. 
 I'm black, and Fm hard — but, when melted by thee, 
 My dear father, and pour'd in a pipkin, shall be 
 Most sanative balm for the cars of the sea. M. 
 
 III. 
 
 In my young and juicy age, 
 
 Had I met your hostile rage, 
 
 You'd have squeezed me where I stood, 
 
 Suck'd my flesh, and drunk my blood. 
 
 But now that time has drain'd my veins, 
 
 And all that yet of me remains, 
 
 Wrinkled without, and parch'd within, 
 
 You'll break my bones and eat my skin. M. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 
 
 <e A Doctor, fond of letters, once agreed" p. 447. 
 
 This, and the three following Epigrams, are devoted to 
 a body of professional men, who seem to have given as 
 much exercise to the wits of Greece and Rome as, in 
 modern times, to those of France and England. The 
 Epitaph by Nicarchus served, probably, as a model for 
 that of Martial : 
 
 " Lotus nobiscum est hilaris," &c. 
 
 Gay Tom supp'd last night, full of jest, sport, and wit, 
 To day, the poor fellow was laid on his bier. 
 
 Do you ask, Dick, the caue of so sudden a fit ? 
 Tom saw, in a dream, Dr. B m appear. M. 
 
 *? Sur quoy je veux faire deux contes," says Montaigne, 
 and then proceeds, with the gravest simplicity, to ridi- 
 cule the profession as unmercifully as ever did Rabelais 
 or Le Sage, Lucillius or Martial, in the tale of the 
 
468 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Happy Valley of Lahontan ; " ce petit e*tat," which 
 <c s'etoit continue de toute anciennete' en une condition 
 si heureuse qu'aucun juge voisin n'avoit este* en peine 
 de s'informer de leur affaire^ aucun advocat employ^ a 
 leur donner ad vis, ni estranger appelle* pour esteindre 
 leurs querelles !" until, in an evil hour, the spirit of 
 ambition, laying hold on one of the peaceful community, 
 impelled him to send his son to be taught to read and 
 write, and educated for an attorney : the law once in- 
 troduced, physic was not long in following. Then 
 " commencement ilz apprendre premierement le nom de 
 fiebvres, des rheumes, et des apostemes," &c. &c. " lis 
 jurent que, depuis lors, seulement, ilz ont apperceu que 
 le serain leur appesantissoit la teste, que le boire, ayant 
 chaud, apportoit nuisance, et que les vents de Tautomne 
 estoyent plus griefs que ceux du printemps \ que, depuis 
 Tusage de cette medicine, ils se trouvent accables d'une 
 legion de maladies inaccoustum^es ; et qu'ils apper- 
 £oivent un general deschet en leur ancienne vigueur, et 
 leurs vies de moitie" raccourcies." 
 
 As the poets will have honourable mention in the 
 next note, and the lawyers will also come in for their 
 share in one subsequent, it would be but polite to insert 
 the following compliment, translated from la Martiniere, 
 to the faculty, who might otherwise conceive themselves 
 slighted by the omission : 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 469 
 
 The Prescription. 
 
 Would you wish to get well without failing, 
 
 Of I know not what ill, which I know not for why, 
 
 For this fortnight has made you look feeble and ailing I 
 
 I prescribe you to buy 
 How much I can't say of a root I know not, 
 To mix, of I know not what simples, a potion, 
 Pound I know not what herbs, and of them make & 
 lotion, 
 
 Which, applied piping hot, 
 Will, for aught that I know, 
 Make you eat, drink, and sleep as a fortnight ago. 
 But this I can venture for certain to say, 
 Half the doctors in London prescribe the same way. B. 
 
 The nostrum demanded by the friar in the following 
 Epigram remains yet undiscovered : 
 
 66 Un gros Prieur" 
 
 A fat old friar, of seraphic face, 
 Who thirty years of meagrim had complain'd, 
 Convened one day the Hippocratic race, 
 And to the synod thus himself explain'd. 
 Grave Sons of Pharmacy, your aid bestow- 
 But in my case I warn you to forego 
 All drugs, herbs, unguents, lenitive and bleeding, 
 And every other medical proceeding. 
 
470 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 At this each doctor shook his sapient head. 
 
 Till, hemming thrice, the elder gravely said, 
 
 u What treatment, Sir, demand you for your pain ?" 
 
 — Treatment ! exert your art — prescribe — ordain 
 
 To make it last me thirty years again. B. 
 
 " When Narva asks a friend to dine" p. 449. 
 
 Perhaps Prior had this Epigram in his mind when he 
 wrote the following humorous imitation of Chaucer : 
 
 " Full oft doth Mat with Topaz dine, 
 
 Eateth baked meats, drinketh Greek wine ; 
 But Topaz his own werke rehearseth, 
 And Mat mote praise what Topaz verseth : 
 Now sure as priest did ere shrive sinner, 
 Full hardly earneth Mat his dinner." 
 
 In this, and the two preceding pieces, we have a 
 specimen of the Grecian mode of laughing unfortunate 
 poets out of countenance. They are, doubtless, not very 
 savoury ; but, if compared with certain French Epi- 
 grams to the same effect, will be found merciful and 
 complimentary in the extreme. I have made the fol- 
 lowing imitations, and now cite them at random : 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 471 
 
 ]. 
 
 On a certain Poet and Painter, 
 
 Maevius, they say, with much ado, 
 Would be a Pope and Reynolds too, 
 
 Nay, more, his models would excell. 
 And, prithee, name me, if you please, 
 A bard who paints with half his ease, 
 
 Or painter, who can rhyme so well. B. 
 
 2. 
 
 A certain rhymer, who can ne'er repose, 
 
 Told me, with tears of triumph in his eyes — 
 
 " Now, on my soul, I cannot write in prose." 
 His verse will prove how d y he lies. B. 
 
 S. 
 
 On reading a Poem of Beauchamp in MS, 
 
 To a party select, ere they went to the press, 
 
 Certain dull and somniferous stanzas were brought. 
 All heard, and some ventured to say what they thought, 
 But who was the author no critic could guess. 
 Just then Mister Beauchamp presented his face, 
 In a moment his presence decided the case, 
 For each soul in the room, without preface or proem, 
 By the poem knew Beauchamp, by Beauchamp the poem. 
 
 B. 
 
472 ■ ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 4. 
 On the same, 
 
 Beauchamp in every house repeats, 
 
 " With Spenser's verse I feel enchanted," 
 
 And adds, to every one he meets, 
 
 " With Spenser's secret I'm acquainted." 
 
 Ay — and thine honour too, replied 
 A reader, should be well rewarded : 
 
 For ne'er since confidence was tried, 
 Was secret more devoutly guarded. B. 
 
 On the danger of reading the Poem of Beauchamp 
 when in a Perspiration. 
 
 Within this tomb#lies Roger Dennis, 
 Who, heated by a game at tennis, 
 
 While napkins for his use were airing, 
 Took Beauchamp up, and read a part, 
 Which threw the cold upon his heart, 
 
 The Lord to the defunct be sparing ! B. 
 
 Let Beauchamp, Msevius, both alone : 
 What harm, I ask you, have they done, 
 Which makes you eager thus to wound ? 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 473 
 
 Oh ! let them in their turn repose, 
 Whose gentle verse, and gentler prose 
 Have often made us sleep so sound. B. 
 
 7. 
 
 Kind Heaven, each loyal Brifon cries, 
 
 Restore our monarch to the nation $ 
 And oh ! thine own anointed screen, 
 From languor, heaviness, and spleen, 
 
 Address from country corporation, 
 And verse from both his Universities ! B. 
 
 8. 
 
 The Plagiarist. 
 
 If e'er I say a thing that's good, 
 Antiquity, in spiteful mood, 
 
 Observes, " Twas I, my friend, who made it." 
 Perhaps it was — but if the dame 
 Had only waited till I came, 
 
 Myself before her then had said it. B. 
 
 9. 
 Epitaph* 
 
 Here lies a youth whose lofty rhyme 
 Will reach the goal of latest time, 
 But hastening on to Fame's abode 
 He died of hunger on the road. B. 
 
474 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 10. 
 The Pleasures of Imagination. 
 
 In my dream lovely Fortune is still at my side ; 
 
 By night I am happy, by day in despair ; 
 By thy bountiful goodness, Lord Bishop, provide, 
 
 That my day-dreams, like those of my night, may be 
 fair. B. 
 
 11. 
 
 Epitaph on myself. 
 
 Here lies an author — pray forgive 
 
 The work that fed his pride — 
 Long after death he thought to live, 
 
 And long before it died. B. 
 
 " Once, in a fearful vision of the night J 9 p. 450. 
 
 In the original, Menander is the poet to whom I have 
 ventured to substitute the name of Rowe ; and, as for 
 Lothario, he may be any actor that the reader chooses to 
 fancy. 
 
 Ci Tom prudently thinking his labour ill-spared." 
 
 p. 450. 
 
 The gravity of the seer is highly laudable. Another 
 
 oracle, the renowned Cato, was once consulted on a 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 4?5 
 
 matter of vast importance, and his response will do well 
 to go hand in hand with that of our fortune-teller. 
 
 " Bon-mot de Caton. 
 
 Autrefois, un Romain s'en vint fort afflige' 
 
 Raconter a Caton que, la nuit pr^c^dente, 
 Son Soulier des souris avoit ete ronge, 
 
 Chose, qui lui sembloit tout-a-fait effrayante: 
 " Mon ami," dit Caton, " reprenez vos esprits ! 
 
 Cet accident en soi n'a rien d'epouvantable : 
 Mais, si votre Soulier eut mange les souris, 
 
 C'auroit ete, sans doute, un prodige effroyable." 
 
 Baraton. 
 
 Oracular Response, 
 
 A Roman called on Cato, to unfold 
 
 How, at the break of day, alarm'd he found 
 His slipper, gnaw'd by mice, upon the ground ; 
 A sight (said he) most fearful to behold ! 
 " My friend," said Cato, ec Courage ! Calm your fright, 
 There's nought so very dreadful in the sight — 
 But if your slipper on the mice had fed, 
 The thing had made one's hair stand up with dread." B. 
 
 " A plaintiff thus explained his cause." p. 451. 
 
 The lawyer in this Epigram bears a striking resemb- 
 lance to the fortune-teller in the preceding, and the 
 
476 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 philosopher in that which follows ; and, if we are to be- 
 lieve what is said of them by humorists, he is not the 
 only similar instance among the gentlemen of his pro- 
 fession. Borbonius gives us another anecdote of the 
 same description. 
 
 " Causidicum oblatofur munerc" 
 
 A thief once consulted a lawyer of note 
 
 How best to ensure from the halter his throat. 
 
 Said the sage, as he pocketed gravely his fee, 
 
 " Run away if you can, and perhaps you'll be free." M. 
 
 This advice of the lawyer's must have afforded nearly 
 an equal degree of comfort to a thief in danger of the 
 gallows, as the following exhortation may be supposed 
 to have conveyed to another unhappy culprit under simi- 
 lar circumstances : 
 
 A certain priest thus strove by exhortation 
 
 To teach a robber how to die. 
 
 " Courage, my son, you mount on high — 
 Death is the card of invitation 
 
 To sup with all the saints to night." 
 * To sup ! Do you accept it rather — 
 For, as for me, I own, good father, 
 I feel no appetite." B. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 477 
 
 To speak seriously, the uncertainty of the law is an 
 afflicting subject to think of. Could every cause be 
 equally well argued as the first of those which I am now 
 going to cite, and every decision pronounced upon an 
 equally solid foundation as that which appears to have 
 governed the ten which are referred to in my second 
 example, we should soon hear no more complaints of 
 this description. 
 
 i 
 The deaf Plaintiff, deaf Defendant, and deaf Judge. 
 
 A deaf man cited his deaf neighbour 
 
 Before a judge as deaf, to ground 
 
 A debt unpaid for quarter's labour, 
 
 — Defendant swore, so far from sound, 
 
 That mites were swarming in the cheese. 
 
 The judge, whose mind suspended stood, 
 
 At last decreed the marriage good, 
 
 And then dismiss'd them both, to pay the fees. B. 
 
 Justice Bridlegoose, in Rabelais, decides by the dice 5 
 and when he became somewhat stricken in years, the 
 neighbourhood murmured at some of his decisions, be- 
 cause, by the dimness of his sight, the "aleajudiciorum" 
 had been, of late, a little questionable. But to our 
 second oracle of justice : 
 
 " Huissiers ! Qu'on fasse silence ! 
 Dit, en tenant audience, 
 
478 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Un President de Baug6 : 
 C'est un bruit a tete-pendre. 
 Nous avons deja juge 
 Dix causes sans les entendre." 
 
 Make silence, ushers, round about ! 
 This dreadful noise is past all bearing. 
 Ten causes have been judged, without 
 A possibility of hearing. B. 
 
 " Nicostratus, that second Stagirite." p. 452. 
 
 Hermogenes speaks of a subtle philosopher of the 
 name of Nicostratus ; but Jacobs finds reason rather to 
 suppose the Nicostratus of this Epigram to be an imagi- 
 nary personage. " Mimic Cleombrotus," &c. is an allu- 
 sion to a very celebrated Epigram of Callimachus, of 
 which the reader will find a translation in a former 
 division of this book : 
 
 " Cleombrotus, upon the rampart's height, 
 
 Bade the bright sun farewell, then plunged to night." 
 
 For the turn at the conclusion of the piece, I have no 
 authority in the original. 
 
 " When hungry wolves had trespassed on the fold," 
 
 p. 453. 
 I cannot find the original of this Epigram, which is 
 entitled " From the Greek f but the point is evidently 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 479 
 
 the same as that in one of Antipater's (2 Brunck 13) 
 which Voltaire rendered into French with unusual 
 fidelity. 
 
 " Sur les Sacrifices a Hercule, 
 
 Un peu de miel, un peu de lait, 
 
 Rendent Mercure favorable : 
 Hercule est bien plus eher, il est bien moins trainable. 
 Sans deux agneaux par jour il n'est point satisfait. 
 On dit qu'a mes moutons ce Dieu sera propice. 
 
 Qu'il soit beni ! mais entre nous 
 
 C'est un peu trop en sacrifice — 
 Qu'irnporte qui les mange — ou d'Hercule, ou des 
 loups ?" 
 
 c * My wealthy master , now resolved to seek" p. 454. 
 
 This, as we are informed by Athenfeus, is the speech 
 of a slave in the comedy of Galatea, and its satire is 
 levelled against a certain follower of the luxurious Ari- 
 stippus, who by his life and conduct gave ample scope to 
 the attacks of ridicule. 
 
 " If beards long and bushy true wisdom denote" 
 
 p. 455. 
 
 The same mode of reasoning was adopted by a Spanish 
 ambassador at the court of Rome, who being a very 
 young man, the Pope asked him, with great displeasure, 
 
480 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 if his master could not find, in all his dominions, some 
 fitter person for so, venerable an office. (e If my master,' 
 replied he, " had known the partiality which your Holi- 
 ness entertains for long beards, I doubt not but he would 
 have sent a he-goat for his ambassador." 
 
 Equally reverential is the respect for age entertained 
 by the Duke of Epire's young courtiers, who compli- 
 ment their sovereign on the good effects of his proposed 
 reformation in strains somewhat similar: 
 
 " But for men, my lord, 
 That should be the sole bravery of a palace, 
 To walk with hollow eyes and long white beards, 
 As if a prince dwelt in a land of goats," &c. 
 
 Massinger's Old Law. 
 
 Numerous have been the substitutes for sense — beards, 
 wigs, profound silence, and wealth, are all conducive to 
 the imposture. The two first have had their days : and 
 we have examples enough, both in the senate and at the 
 bar, to prove that silence is no longer necessary for the 
 concealment of mental infirmity, provided the invalid 
 is on good terms with fortune. Montaigne, after main- 
 taining (rather paradoxically) that the rulers of nations 
 should be gifted with brains, continues to observe that 
 a Silence in them not only gives them an air of respect 
 and gravity, but often also conduces to their profit and 
 advantage. Megabysus, going one day to see Apelles in 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 481 
 
 his painting room, sat still a long time without speaking 
 a word ; but at last beginning to discourse of his per- 
 formances, he received this harsh reprimand from him : 
 c While thou wast silent, thou seemedst to be some 
 person of great account ; but now that we have heard 
 thee speak, there is not the meanest boy in my work- 
 shop that does not despise thee,' His magnificent habit 
 and great state condemned his ignorance the more, 
 while he talked of painting so impertinently. Now, 
 many young men, in my time, have passed for men of 
 prudence and capacity, by reason of their gravity and 
 taciturnity." 
 
 So much for these good people, whom the Milanese 
 punningly denominate, " I parocchiani della parocchia 
 di San Simpliciano." — u Chi tengono del simpliciotto 
 anzi che no — perche il prete, dando loro il battesimo, 
 pose pochissimo sale in bocca ad uno ed all' altro." 
 
 But even the sacredness of silence will not always 
 defend the taciturn from a suspicion that their motive is 
 not strictly an aversion from the act of speaking, but one 
 of a different nature, which it is needless to mention. 
 A French gentleman had been purposely invited to 
 meet a certain nobleman. — Their mutual friends burned 
 to introduce the one to the other. Their meeting ended, 
 like all anticipated excellencies, in disappointment. In 
 short, this was not one of my Lord s communicative days ; 
 and when one of his apologists said so to the French- 
 man, descanting still on his great talent, the foreigner 
 
 Ii 
 
482 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 remarked, " Oui, j'en conviens — Milord a un grand 
 talent pour le silence." Loquacity, however, is not 
 always an improvement to the person, as the following 
 Epigram demonstrates : 
 
 The Portrait, 
 
 A lord of senatorial fame 
 
 Was by his portrait known outright ; 
 
 For so the painter play'd his game, 
 
 It made one even yawn at sight. 
 
 " 'Tis he — the same— there's no defect, 
 
 But want of speech," exclaim'd a flat. 
 
 To whom the limner — " Pray, reflect, 
 
 'Tis surely not the worse for that." B. 
 
 Gravity and taciturnity are doubtless of vast effect in 
 dignifying their wearers; but there are some unlucky 
 people of a hardihood not to be surmounted. Of this 
 number was the brutal rustic whom I am going to 
 describe : 
 
 The Druid and the Clotvn. 
 
 " Un vieux Druide, enriche* de sa race, 
 Pour s'attirer le respect d'un quidam, 
 Dit qu'a sa terre il n'etoit habitant 
 
 Qui jamais s'arroge&t Taudace 
 De se couvrir ou s'asseoir, lui present. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 4S3 
 
 Le quidam, qui n'etoit pas bete, 
 " Monsieur," dit-il, se couvrant, s'asseyant, 
 " Ces gens n'ont done ni cul ni tete." 
 
 A Druid, of his order proud, 
 To awe a simple country clown, 
 Declared that, where he lived, the crowd 
 Behaved with such extreme decorum, 
 That not a man presumed, he said, 
 To wear a hat, or sit before him. 
 66 Sir," said the rustic, sitting down, 
 And calmly covering his crown, 
 ** 'Tis clear these folk have neither a— nor head." B. 
 
 e ' A rich man's purse, a poor maris soul is thine" 
 
 p. 456. 
 
 This is a very fertile subject of epigrammatic wit; 
 but I shall content myself with a single anecdote : 
 
 i{ Qui calcarit opes fore sanctum audiverat Ollus. 
 Calceolis nummos protinus inseruit." 
 
 At church Harpax heard that to trample on riches, 
 Is the holiest thing that a Christian can do ; 
 
 So he forthwith took out his bank-notes from his breeches, 
 And sew'd them all up in the sole of his shoe. M. 
 
484 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Whatever art you learn, employ it well. "p. 456. 
 
 " If I have caught the true meaning of this Epigram, 
 a party of Ligurian freebooters, being about to make a 
 descent on the coast, for the sake of plunder, detach 
 some of their number, well anointed with grease, to 
 attract the dogs by their scent a different way, while the 
 rest perform the object of their expedition without the 
 interruption of these vigilant defenders." This is the 
 explanation given by M. Chardon, of an Epigram, the 
 sense of which Scaliger pronounced to be lost in Cim- 
 merian darkness. One very simple and probable alter- 
 ation of the text has rendered it what it is. The 
 Ligurians were famous, we all know, for their cunning 
 and stratagem. 
 
 " A viper stung a Cappadocian's hide." p. 457. 
 
 The Cappadocians were held, among the ancients, 
 very much in the same estimation as, before the gener- 
 ous exertions of Clarkson and Wilberforce, the inhabit- 
 ants of the Gambia and Senegal were considered by 
 ourselves. They were treated as a people born to 
 slavery ; and a greater compliment has never been paid 
 to the genius of ^liberty, than consists in the contempt 
 and execration with which the very name of these poor 
 wretches was, on that only account, attended. In 
 another Epigram, the same writer bestows upon them 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 485 
 
 that most nefarious of all compound epithets, $xv\sm- 
 qavXoTOLTOL. He is not much more complaisant to the 
 inhabitants of Chios, nor to those of Cilicia, on both of 
 whom he has bestowed the well known compliment 
 which has since been otherwise turned, and thus ascribed 
 to the German commentators : 
 
 " The Germans in Greek 
 Are still much to seek ; 
 Not five in five score, 
 But ninety-five more ; 
 Excepting friend Herman — 
 And He is — a German." 
 
 The French are very fertile in turning excessive pro- 
 fligacy into food for wit ; and, whatever moralists may 
 have to say as to the expediency of laughing at vice, we 
 shall not be much the worse for a few specimens of 
 their talent in this sort of composition. 
 
 No vice so profligate can be 
 
 But of young Alcimon they tell us. 
 
 The first of wicked men is he, 
 
 Of him, the Devil himself is jealous. B. 
 
 Another, by Breboeuf. 
 How little grief thy father's ashes claim ! 
 
 How just was Death to hurry him from hence ! 
 A ceaseless labourer in the work of shame, 
 
 You thought him born, his Maker to incense. 
 
 The self-avow'd support of impudence, 
 
486 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 With Modesty he waged insatiate strife, 
 
 And lived the eternal foe of Innocence ; 
 Thus, having made Sin's empire all his own, 
 Still, fearing to be bad by halves alone, 
 
 He gave thee life. B. 
 
 But, perhaps, the greatest accumulation of all the 
 virulence of satire, upon one unfortunate head, is to be 
 found in the following compliment to a certain Countess 
 de Caumont : 
 
 " Quand TEternel, non sans remords, 
 De la Caumont eut fait le corps, 
 Sentant qu'une aaie raisonnable 
 Ne pourroit, sans d'affreux degouts, 
 Habiter dans un corps semblable , 
 II en fit la prison d'un diable ! — 
 — £t c'est le plus damned de tous." 
 
 This is so completely wicked, that no translation can 
 do it justice. The following is much more allowable : 
 
 On successful Villainy. 
 
 To see the splendour, power, and fame, 
 
 With which yon wretch is clad, 
 Would you not think it Fortune's game 
 
 To drive poor Virtue mad ? B. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 487 
 
 " Poor Cleon out of envy died.' 9 p. 457. 
 
 This extravagant hyperbole should be contrasted with 
 the more modesty and (alas!) too natural picture of the 
 envious man which Senece has presented to us. 
 
 " D'ou vient o x ue Fenvieux Phorbas," &c. 
 
 What makes the envious Phorbas walk 
 
 Alone, and sad, in the parterre ; 
 And raise his eyes, and inly talk, 
 
 And stamp his foot, and rend his hair ? 
 Say, has he met with some distress ? — 
 
 Far from it- — all his agitation 
 Only proceeds from the success 
 
 Of some acquaintance, or relation. B. 
 
 " When the gorged stomach will no more allow" 
 
 p. 458. 
 
 The paps, and sometimes the belly, of a young sow, 
 which had just farrowed, were relished as the first of 
 dainties by the gourmands of Greece and Rome. The 
 reader may find the manner of dressing them fully de- 
 scribed by that prince of men-cooks, Apicius, in his 
 seventh book. From Juvenal, we find that they were, in 
 his time, considered as a suitable offering to (he Bona 
 Dea. Sat. ii. v. 86 : 
 
488 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " AtqueBonam tenerse placant abdomine porcse, 
 Et magno cratere Deam." 
 
 r 
 
 " You feed so fast, and run so very slow. p. 458. 
 
 These, it will be allowed, are two excellent qualifi- 
 cations for an errand-boy. There is a Latin Epigram 
 by Chytrseus, which begins thus ; 
 
 a Segnis erat Gryllus, saxique immobilis instar, 
 Mandibula excepta denique totus iners." 
 
 On this gentleman, it continues, the itch kindly took 
 compassion, and gave agility to his fingers, by furnishing 
 them with constant employment. 
 
 Another Latin Epigrammatist celebrates the diligence 
 with which the citizens of Erfurt Were once accustomed 
 to study the arts of good living, to the exclusion of all 
 other sciences, and the ruin of their families and estates, 
 in the following satirical address to the physicians of the 
 place : 
 
 <r - Ite novas alibi, Medici, disquirite sedes, iy Sfc. 
 
 Go, Doctors, go, to other regions roam ; 
 
 No fees await you in our healthy home. 
 
 Stomachs of such unrivall'd strength are ours, 
 
 N© weak obstructions check their active powers, 
 
 Which, ostrich-like, digest without remorse 
 
 Lands, houses, gardens, — aye, and troops of horse. M. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 489 
 
 "Remark how wisely ancient art provides, p. 458. 
 
 Whether originally man's or woman's, this was a most 
 glorious invention for all who, like Pontilianus, are fond 
 of finding every possible excuse for drinking. The Epi- 
 gram is by Muretus ; / 
 
 " Cum rapidus medio desaevit in sethere Titan 
 Fer puer hue cyathos, Pontilianus ait. 
 
 Cum pluit, En, inquit, Deus admonet esse bibendum, 
 Qui nunc tam multo proluit imbre solum. 
 
 Sic vacua & potu non unquam tempora ducit; 
 Cur bibat semper Pontilianus habet." 
 
 The following is from a French author : 
 
 The wise allow five reasons good for drinking — 
 As, first, the coming of a welcome stranger — 
 Next,that you're thirsty — then, that you've been thinking 
 How soon of being thirsty you're in danger — 
 Fourth, that the wine's so good you can't refuse, 
 And, lastly, any reason that you choose. M. 
 
 I ought, on a former occasion, to have referred to the 
 excellent invention of toasting a mistress in a number of 
 glasses equal to that of the letters in her name: 
 
 " Naevia sex cyathis, septem Justina bibatur." 
 
 Martial. 
 
490 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 And to George Hardinge's very happy jeii d'esprit on 
 the names of Job's three daughters : 
 
 " Sex Jemima scyphis, septem Kheziah bibatur. 
 Ebrius est si quis te Kerenhappuch amet." 
 
 Six glasses the name of Jemima will cover, 
 
 And (reckoning the H's) Kheziah claims seven ; 
 
 But alas ! Kerenhappuch's unfortunate lover 
 
 Will as surely be tipsy as fools go to heaven. M. 
 
 " This rudely sculptured porter-pot." p. 459. 
 
 Propertius would bestow a similar emblem on the re- 
 mains of a lady of similar character : 
 
 " Sit tumulus Lense curto vetus amphora collo." 
 
 Charpentier has thus paraphrased the same Epigram : 
 
 u Passant ! Cy gist la vieiile Macaride, 
 Au rouge nez, au teint toujours humide ; 
 Et qui buvoit du soir jusqu'au matin. 
 Sans aucune douleur elle quitte sa fille, 
 Son fils, son gendre, et toute sa famille. 
 Son seul regret fut de quitter son vin." 
 
 " The good man, Pannard/' says Marmontel, " had 
 so tender an affection for wine, that he ever spoke of it 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 491 
 
 as the friend of his heart; arid, glass in hand, with his 
 eyes rivetted on the charming object of his adoration, he 
 was frequently moved even to tears." Another country- 
 man of Marmontel's gives the following architectural 
 directions for his tomb, which have a near resemblance 
 to those which decorate the monument of our good lady 
 in the Epigram : 
 
 Nor porphyry, nor marble rare, 
 
 To build my simple tomb, I ask ; 
 I only wish, for trophy there, 
 
 A vast immeasurable cask. 
 Some artist, too, of ruby noses, 
 
 With mine shall grace the glorious tun ; 
 Inscribed, " The veriest sot reposes 
 
 Hereby, that ever saw the sun." , B. 
 
 " Thee, too, Lysander, doth the grave compell" 
 
 p. 459. 
 
 This poem, in the state in which the Palatine MS. 
 preserves it, has sadly perplexed the commentators. 
 Jacobs proposed so many conjectural emendations* that, 
 like the ship of Jason, he leaves the Epigram at last with 
 scarcely a piece of the original fabric remaining in it. 
 For the much more simple and natural reformation of 
 the text from which the present version is made, we are 
 indebted to M. Chardon (Melanges, &c. torn. ii. p* 297.) 
 
492 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Centaur who died of intoxication at the feast of the 
 Lapithae, has been the subject of more than one allusion 
 among the Greek poets. 
 
 " With the eyes of a mole and the arms of an ape** 
 
 p. 460. 
 
 M. de Tburches, who to the charms here mentioned 
 added the face of an owl, said one night, as he was 
 walking home from a party, " This is the first time that 
 I shall have slept at home for two years." " I should 
 think from your appearance" (said the Bishop of Agde, 
 measuring him from head to foot with his eyes) that 
 you are in the habit of perching." 
 
 " Of charms Niconoe might have boasted,** p. 460. 
 
 In another Epigram, Myrinus thus sports with the 
 character of one of these venerable girls. " U" (alluding 
 to the Greek numeral) " stands for 400, and the num- 
 ber of your years is twice as great. You tender Lais ! 
 you Hecuba of Maids ! you grandmother of Sisyphus ! 
 you sister of Deucalion ! Go, dye your white hairs, and 
 say to every body, ta-ta." It was the custom among 
 young girls, and more especially those who, whether 
 young or not, wished so to be reputed, to stammer, lisp, 
 and talk prettily. Ovid observes, that there is a consi* 
 derable degree of difficulty in acquiring the perfection 
 of this elegant art: 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 493 
 
 a Quid, cum legitime fraudatur littera voce, 
 N Blaesaque fit jusso lingua coacta sono ? 
 In vitio decor est, quaedam male reddere verba 
 Discunt posse minus, quam potuere loqui." 
 
 Ars Amat. iii. 293. 
 
 Martial has adopted much of the hyperbole of My- 
 rinus, and added to it the inimitable image of 
 
 " Cornicibus omnibus superstes." x. 61, 
 
 As a contrast to such disagreeable home-truths, let 
 me insert the beautiful compliment conveyed in the 
 following impromptu by the Comtesse de Houdetot on 
 Mad. la Duchesse de la Valliere, who, at the age of fifty, 
 was still celebrated for the charms of her countenance : 
 
 " La Nature prudente et sage 
 Force le Temps k respecter 
 Les charmes de ce beau visage 
 Qu'elle n'aurait pu renter," 
 
 (e With a wise parental care, 
 Nature bids old Time to spare 
 Every charm of that sweet face 
 Which, lost, she never could replace. M. 
 
494 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 "Yes— you may change your hair, hut not your face" 
 
 p. 461. 
 
 On the subject of dyeing the hair, or wearing wigs — 
 (both of them arts in great practice among the ladies of 
 Greece and Rome,) one Epigram has already been pro- 
 duced in a former divison of this book. The old English 
 Epigram, 
 
 " The golden hair that Ccelia wears 
 
 Is her's — (who would have thought it ?) 
 She swears 'tis her's ; and true she swears, — 
 For I know where she bought it," 
 
 though coming to us more immediately through the 
 channel of Martial, is derived from Lucillius (31 . ii. 323). 
 On the more fertile topic of face painting, Prior has 
 rather borrowed from the French ofBreboeuf, than from 
 the Greek, in, the following stanzas : 
 
 " How old may Phillis be, (you ask) 
 
 Whose beauty thus all hearts engages ? 
 To answer, is no easy task, 
 For she has really two ages. 
 
 Stiff in brocade, and pinch'd in stays, 
 
 Her patches, paint, and jewels on, 
 All day let Envy view her face, 
 
 And Phillis is but twenty-one. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 495 
 
 Paint, patches, jewels, laid aside, 
 
 At night astronomers agree, 
 The evening has the day belied, 
 
 And Phillis is some forty-three." 
 
 Brebceuf is distinguished among the wits of the Si£cle 
 de Louis XIV. as the author of (I believe) full one 
 hundred and fifty different conceits on the same founda- 
 tion. A few specimens may be sufficient to cure the 
 scepticism with which such a statement is likely to be 
 received ; and the following free translations will evince 
 how inexhaustible is the topic of a rouge-box in the 
 hands of a Parisian satirist. 
 
 As Harry sung, one day, his usual song, 
 
 " What charms has Myra ! Gods, how I adore 3 em !" 
 A chynrist passing by said, " Sir, you're wrong, 
 
 " They won't be Myra's till she's paid me for 'em." 
 
 M. 
 
 Gods ! What an opening paradise ! 
 
 Your beauties are above all price. 
 <( Nay, you exceed the bounds of sense, 
 
 My rouge-box cost but eighteen-pence." M. 
 
 Happy Florimel, who may 
 With a lever toy all day, 
 Nor do your husband wrong ! 
 
496 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Your real face he took to bed, 
 
 Those borrow' d charms of white and red 
 
 To you, not him, belong. 
 The roses of the bridal morn, 
 Though wither'd, wrinkled, pale, and torn, 
 
 True to their Lord remain. 
 If for another you display 
 The fresher rose of yesterday, 
 
 What needs the fool complain ? M. 
 
 The Poets sing— but faith they're wrong, 
 That Modesty, which shuns the throng, 
 
 Is but a rural grace. 
 Sometimes in town she holds resort, 
 Whenever Iris goes to court 
 
 She hides behind her face. M. 
 
 When Iris call'd on me, the other day, 
 " Tom, hand the lady to a chair/' — I say ; 
 
 But, seeing my mistake, the word recall, 
 " Tom, place that image on its pedestal.' ' M. 
 
 Variety keeps love alight, 
 
 And Lucy owns the maxim true ; 
 For, though her lips Tom kisses every night, 
 
 The lips Tom kisses every night are new. M. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 497 
 
 Tell me, lover, tell me why 
 
 For Aminta's charms you sigh ? 
 
 Charms, which elude your fond embrace ! 
 
 That dazzling form for which you bleed 
 
 Is but a tomb-stone, where we read, 
 
 " Here lies, what was Aminta's face." M. 
 
 Think not that, when I dream of thee, 
 I dream of Zephyr's balmy breath 
 
 And flowery shades of Arcady — 
 
 — No, Chloris, no — I dream of death ; 
 
 For when I see how thin a paste 
 
 Can bury features once so fair, 
 I think how fast the moments haste, 
 
 When I shall be as now you are. M. 
 
 When the bright object of my vows I led, 
 A blushing virgin, to the nuptial bed, 
 " Grant me so long a night, great Jove," I cried, 
 As when you revell'd with Amphitryon's bride." 
 But, soon as morning dawn'd on our embrace, 
 And I beheld the ravage of her face, 
 "Malicious God ! How hast thou mock'd my prayers — 
 I ask'd a three day's night— not thirty years." M. 
 
 Kk 
 
498 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Low at your feet, in strains sublime, 
 Thus Damon pour'd his amorous rhyme : 
 " Iris ! your beauties are the crime 
 
 That works my soul's decay !" 
 Iris ! How blest of Heaven are you, 
 Whose sins, though every evening new, 
 
 Are every morning wash'd away. M. 
 
 K The voice of the song and the banquet was o'er** 
 
 p. 461. 
 
 Prior has recorded a lover, whose ardour was quenched 
 by a much more fatal catastrophe : 
 
 Fatal Love. 
 
 <f Poor Hal caught his death standing under a spout, 
 
 Expecting till midnight when Nan would come out \ 
 
 But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame, 
 
 And curs'd was the weather that quench'd the man's 
 
 flame. 
 
 MORAL, 
 
 (equally applicable to the Greek and English Epigram*) 
 
 Who'er thou art, that reads these moral lines, 
 Make love at home, and go to bed betimes/' 
 
 To complain of a mistress's fickleness, however, is, 
 (according to Owen the epigrammatist) to find fault 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 493 
 
 with her for resembling that which is the most exalted 
 object of a lover's comparison : 
 
 " Mobilitas coeli laus est/ 
 
 Perpetual motion is the law of Heaven, 
 Fix'd constancy to Earth alone is given. 
 How truly then a heavenly fair is she 
 Who owns no portion of earth's constancy. M. 
 
 It is surely no objection to the soundness of this argu- 
 ment, that it does not stand upon the foundation of the 
 Copernican system. That the touch of a lady should 
 convert water into fire has nothing wonderful in it, after 
 the greater miracle of the following verses, which de- 
 scribe the water as frozen : 
 
 " Me nive candenti petiit modo Julia : rebar 
 Igne carere nivem, nix tamen ignis erat. 
 Quid nive frigidius ? Nostrum tamen urere pectui 
 Nix potuit manihus, Julia, missa tuis." 
 
 Anth. Lat.iii. 218. 
 
 u Good day, my love" — "The same to you." p. 462. 
 
 This Epigram has been much more neatly rendered 
 by a French translator, in the u Melanges de Critique," 
 &c. of M. Chardon de laHochette. 
 
500 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " Bon jou*, Phite."— « Bon jour, Cl&ra."-- «* Sait-on 
 Du tendron qui vient la le nom et la demeure ?" — 
 " C'est Egle, ma maitresse, et voici sa maison." — 
 " Pourrois~je ?"-— « Quoi ?"-~" Cette nuit."~ " C'est 
 selon" — 
 " J'ai de l'argent." — a Tant mieux, vous entrerez sur 
 
 Theure i" 
 " Mais, je n'ai que cela." — " Bon soir au beau Cleon." 
 
 '' All wives are bad — yet two blest hours they give" 
 
 p. 443. 
 
 M. Chardon gives us two translations of this Epigram 
 by different French poets, neither of which is very admi- 
 rable. The best, because the shortest, is that of St. 
 Gelais : 
 
 " Toute femme est importune et nuisante, 
 Et seulement en deux temps est plaisante; 
 Le premier est de ses noces la nuit, 
 Et le second, quand on l'ensevelit." 
 
 That immediately preceding has also been more than 
 once imitated by the Parisian epigrammatists. The 
 following is Tamisier's : 
 
 u Celui qui, delivre d'un premier marriage, 
 Pour la seconde fois se veut remarier, 
 En dangereuse mer il fait deux fois naufrage, 
 Et perit au second s'il se sauve au premier." 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 501 
 
 These Epigrams, " com me toutes celles ou il est 
 question des femmes, soit en bien, soit en mal," have 
 experienced many Latin versions, from the pens of the 
 Stephens's, Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, Alciatus, Gro- 
 tius, &c. &c. Henry Stephens has undertaken the de- 
 fence of second marriages, by replying, in two Greek 
 distichs, to the single distich of the old Epigram : 
 
 Yes — try another wife, if so inclined. 
 
 Or good or bad the first, 'twas fortune gave her. 
 If good^as good as she remain behind; 
 
 If bad, — the chance is vastly in your favour. M. 
 
 The rebuke which a French lady once gave to a silly 
 declaim er against marriage, and re viler of women, must 
 be admitted to have been well deserved, even though it 
 may be accused of being a little coarse : 
 
 Albinus, at a furious rate, 
 Haranguing on the nuptial state, 
 Declared, with wonderous impudence, 
 Hymen to cuckoldom was brother, 
 That one ne'er went without the other 
 And further, that no man of sense 
 Would on a woman stake his fate. 
 " Let him against our sex rail on," 
 Quoth Blanche, " he's very father's son : 
 He, too, was known this whim to carry 
 So far, he never dared to marry ." B. 
 
502 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " So shadow-like a form you bear" p. 463. 
 
 The hyperbolic strain of this Epigram is nothing to 
 that of Marvel's lines on the notorious Flecknoe, ren- 
 dered so miserably illustrious by the poignancy of 
 Dryden's satire : 
 
 Nothing now dinner staid, 
 
 But till he had himself a body made, 
 I mean, till he was dressed ; for else, so thin 
 He stands, as if he only fed had been 
 With consecrated wafers ; and the Host 
 Hath sure more flesh and blood than he can boast. 
 This basso-relievo of a man, 
 Who, as a camel tall, yet easily can 
 The needle's eye thread without any stitch ; 
 His only impossible is to be rich. 
 Lest his too subtle body, growing rare, 
 Should leave his soul to wander through the air, 
 He therefore circumscribes himself in rhymes; 
 And swaddled in his own paper, seven times 
 Wears a close jacket of poetic buff, &c. &c. 
 * # # # » 
 
 But, were he not in this black habit deck'd, 
 This half transparent man would soon reflect 
 Each colour that he past by, and be seen, 
 As the cameleon, yellow, blue, and green. 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 503 
 
 See more of this unpoetical, though highly farcical, 
 satire in Scott's Dryden, Vol. x. p. 441, particularly a 
 description of the unfortunate scare-crow's lodging, 
 which may have furnished Swift with the idea of his 
 Vicar's house at Castle Knock. 
 
 * Heavens, what a nose ! Forbear to look." p. 464. 
 
 The nose has been a frequent subject of ridicule and 
 controversy long before the time of Sterne's Slauken- 
 burgius. Among the numerous Epigrams with which it 
 has furnished the Greek Anthology, some of which will 
 be found in the text, there is one which describes a 
 man's nose as supplying him with alL the comforts and 
 conveniences of life. f( The nose of Castor is a spade 
 when he digs, a trumpet when he snores, an anchor at 
 sea, a plough in the field," with a multitude of other 
 extravagancies. 
 
 Long and short noses will ever have their most violent 
 partizans in the Roman and the Negro 
 
 u Non nostrum est tantas componere lites." 
 
 The character of Grecian satire is said to be that of 
 the grossest hyperbole. u Give a dog a bad name," &c. 
 I see no good reason why those who shake their sides 
 with laughing at Bardolph's nose, should be too squeam- 
 ish to be diverted with the snouts of Castor and Proclus. 
 
504 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 •* I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and 
 Dives that lived in purple ; for there he is in his robes 
 burning." * Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in 
 links and torches, walking with thee in the night be- 
 tween tavern and tavern," &c. 1 Hen. IV. Act. i. sc. 5. 
 Muretus has shewn that it is possible to be quite as 
 hyperbolical, when treating the same subject in Latin. 
 In his Epigram De Pompilii Naso, after telling us so 
 monstrous, and at the same time so dull a lie, as that the 
 nose of this gentleman measured exactly three cubits in 
 length, and one in breadth, he adds, that it possessed 
 two remarkable qualities, viz. that of drying up whole 
 glasses of wine by its mere shadow, and that of attracting 
 good liquor from a distance, as a load-stone attracts 
 iron ; and he concludes, in a pleasanter strain of gro- 
 tesque falsehood, and (as it were) in corroboration of his 
 last assertion, 
 
 " Nuper eram in mensa. sitiens potare paratus ; 
 Pompilius clausas adstitit ante fores : 
 Mira canam, sed vera; merum mihi forte paratum 
 Attraxit naso protinus ille suo." 
 
 One of the Epigrams which are here selected gave 
 occasion to a very amusing chapter in Sir Thomas 
 Brown's " Vulgar Errors," that on " saluting a person 
 when he sneezes." He proves it to be of the oldest 
 origin, from Apuleius, in his story of the fullers' wife; 
 
SATIRCAL AND HUMOROUS. 505 
 
 from Pliny, in that problem of his, " Cur sternutantes 
 salutantur ;" (( and there he reports that Tiberius the 
 Emperor, otherwise a very sour man, would perform this 
 rite most punctually unto others, and expect the same 
 from others unto himself. Petronius Arbiter, who was pro- 
 consul of Bithynia, in the reign of Nero, hath mentioned 
 it in these words ; c Gyton collectione spiritus plenus, 
 ter continue- ita sternutavit ut grabatum concuteret ; ad 
 quern motum Eumolpus conversus salvere Gy tona jubet. 
 Coelius Rhodoginus hath an example hereof among the 
 Greeks, far ancienter than these, that is, about the time 
 of Cyrus the younger; when, consulting about their 
 retreat, it chanced that one of them sneezed, at the noise 
 whereof the rest of the soldiery called upon Jupiter 
 Soter." u Now the ground of this ancient custom was 
 probably the opinion the ancients held of sternutation, 
 which they generally conceived to be a good sign or a 
 bad ; and so, upon this motion, accordingly used a 
 salve, or a Zsv <rco<rov, as a gratulation for the one, and a 
 deprecation from the other." " Of sneezing, saith 
 Aristotle, " they honour it as somewhat sacred." Then 
 he proceeds to shew in what cases sneezing is a good or 
 a bad sign, how much of a man's future successes or 
 misfortunes depend on the hand in which he sneezes • 
 what battles have been lost, owing to the general 
 sneezing into his left hand, &c. 
 
 " The God of Love 
 
 Sneezed aloud, and all around 
 
506 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The little Loves that waited by 
 Bow'd and blest-the augury." 
 
 Cowley's Acme and Septimius. 
 
 Dr. Scott observes that there is a notion among the 
 Hindoos, of sneezing being caused by the operation of 
 an evil spirit 5 and that they, upon those occasions, snap 
 their thumb and fore-finger as loudly as they can, to 
 drive Mm away. To belch, however, is esteemed by 
 them lucky ; and it is no offence to good manners to be 
 thus fortunate in company, being always greeted with 
 the ejaculation of " God be praised !" 
 
 The tale of " the broken backed schoolmaster," (one 
 of the additional stories in Dr. Scott's late edition of 
 the Arabian Nights,) is illustrative of the custom we are 
 speaking of. The venerable pedagogue had exacted 
 from his scholars that, whenever he sneezed, they should 
 instantly lay down their books, and call upon Heaven to 
 bless him. It happened that one day he went down into 
 a well to fetch up water, and when his scholars had drawn 
 him back again almost to the top, he was seized with a 
 fit of sneezing, upon which they all, mechanically, let 
 go their hold, in order to pay him the usual tribute ; 
 and the poor old gentleman falling backwards, was 
 maimed for life. 
 
 The antiquity and universality of this custom suffici- 
 ently refutes the idea of some writers, who have supposed 
 that the " sweating sickness," that dreadful plague of 
 the middle ages, gave rise to the salutation among 
 
SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS. 507 
 
 European nations; for, say they, one of the earliest 
 symptoms of the disorder was immoderate sneezing, 
 upon which it became usual, whenever a man sneezed, 
 to pray God to bless him, and save him from the disease 
 which it was apprehended to prognosticate. 
 
 Whoever desires to pursue this interesting subject 
 further, may read an article by M. Morin, " sur les 
 souhaits de ceux qui eternuent," in the fifth volume of 
 the Memoires de TAcadernie des Inscriptions. 
 
 "Riddles." p. 466. 
 
 The three enigmatical pieces are here inserted, not on 
 account of their merit, since modern times have greatly 
 improved on the simplicity of the Greeks in this very 
 profound species of composition ; but merely to render 
 this volume as comprehensive as possible in point of 
 subject. It is almost needless to add that, smoke, pitch, 
 and a dried raisin, are the subjects upon which the 
 authors of the above pieces have thought proper to ex- 
 ercise their talent — any child, on a Christmas eve, 
 would discover them. i( The cars of the sea" is an 
 obvious periphrasis for " ships/' 
 

 
 
[ 509 ] 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Tis past — and o'er her laurels torn 
 The Queen of Nations bends to mourn, 
 The Nurse of heroes crouches low, 
 Slave to a base ignoble foe. 
 Seas, where triumphant fleets unfurl'd 
 Their banners that o'eraw'd the world, 
 Lands peopled by the wise and brave, 
 Abode of patriots and their grave, 
 Fields, where the early muse awoke 
 And tuneful reeds the silence broke, 
 Mountains (retreat of gods), and vales 
 That give their fragrance to the gales, 
 Rivers, from steepy heights that fell, 
 Where, tenants of each sparry cell, 
 Beneath your waters fringed with flowers 
 The nymphs of fountains pass'd their hours, 
 While on your margin stretch'd along 
 The poet dream'd, or tuned his song, 
 At which the Dryads would appear, 
 And sylvan boys run out to hear ; 
 
510 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Dim are your glories, sunk your name, 
 And all has perish'd but the fame 
 That never shall thro' time decay 
 While nations rise and melt away, 
 
 Fraught with the treasures of the past, 
 As years to years succeeding haste, 
 And tho' in every age we trace 
 A moral for the coming race, 
 In vain we backward cast our eyes 
 On follies, crimes, and miseries, 
 From war and havoc shrink in vain, 
 And all is acted o'er again. 
 Dead are the bards— but living lays 
 Resound, and tell of early days, 
 And still the trembling chords prolong 
 Untouch'd the power of ancient song ; 
 Dear is their minstrelsy, that floats 
 In solemn, sweet, and liquid notes, 
 That registers the orphan's sigh, 
 The plighted lover's perjury, 
 The pride of riches and of power, 
 The mirthful, and the mournful hour, 
 That paints the virgin in her bloom, 
 The triumph, banquet, and the tomb, 
 The deeds of mighty chiefs, who broke 
 The tyrant's chain, and spurn'd his yoke, 
 And then by beauty's arms subdued 
 Were led in willing servitude. 
 
EPILOGUE. 511 
 
 Dear are the records, that unfold 
 The pleasures and the cares of old, 
 And bid us in the past descry 
 The visions of futurity. B. 
 
[ 513] 
 
 INDEX 
 
 With the Names of the Authors arranged according to the 
 Chronological Order of Brunck and Jacobs. 
 
 Archilociitjs, (i. Brunck. p. 40,) flourished about A. 724 before 
 Christ, 
 i. Patience under public Affliction - p. 179 
 
 Erinna, (i. 58.) Contemporary with Sappho. 
 
 ii. Epitaph of a young Bride - - 285 
 
 iii. Another - 284 
 iEsop,(i. 76.) The Fabulist, contemporary with Croesus, &c. 
 
 On Death . - . - 183 
 SiiaoNiDES, (i. 120.) About 560 before Christ. 
 
 vii. The Complaint of Danae - - 360 
 
 xi. The Comparison - 121 
 
 xxxi. Epitaph of Megistias the Soothsayer - 301 
 
 xxxii. of those who fell at Thermopylae 302 
 
 liii. of Archidice, the daughter of Hippias 301 
 
 lxiii. The Offering of the Courtezans - - 426 
 
 xc. On a Statue of Cupid - - 369 
 TimOcreon of Rhodes, (i. 148.) 
 
 i. On Wealth, a Scholion - • - - 122 
 Bacchylides, (i. 149 ) Nephew of Simonides. 
 
 iv. On Truth - - - 122 
 
 ix. Peace - - - - 188 
 
 xx. The Husbandman's Offering - . 423 
 Callistratus, (i. 155.) 
 
 Scol. vii. Ode to the Athenian Patriots - 123 
 Hybrias of Crete, (i. 159.) 
 
 Schol. xxii. The Warrior's Riches - - 124 
 LI 
 
S14 INDEX. 
 
 Ariphron of Sicyon, (i. 159.) 
 
 Scol. xxiii. Ode to Health - -. p. 120 
 
 Simmias of Thebes, (i. 168.) 
 
 ii. On the Monument of Sophocles - 298 
 
 Plato the Philosopher, (i. 169.) 
 
 vii. The Offering of Lai's to Venus - - 425 
 
 xiv. On a rural Image of P^m - - 369 
 
 xt. On the Image of a Cupid and Satyr - 368 
 
 xxix. r- of Cupid sleeping - 368 
 
 xxx. The Answer of the Muses to Venus - 115 
 
 Anyte, (i. 197 ) 
 
 v. On a Statue of Venus on the Sea-coast - 371 
 vi. On a Grove of Laurel - - 357 
 
 xviii. Epitaph of a young Maiden - - 285 
 
 xix. Another - - 285 
 
 xx. Another - - 286 
 
 Asclepiades, (i. 211.) There were three of this name. The first* 
 and most eminent, flourished about the 106th Olympiad, 
 (A. C. 350.) The second was of Samos, and a contem- 
 porary with Theocritus. The third was of later date, and 
 an inhabitant of Rome. In a very few instances only, it 
 is now possible to assign to each of these Poets their 
 respective contributions to the Anthology. 
 
 iv. The Votive Chaplet - 7 
 
 ix. Love and Wine - - - 81 
 
 xx. The Enjoyment of Love - - 16 
 
 xxi. The Virgin's Triumph - - 5 
 
 xxvi. The Power of Wine - - 82 
 
 Leonidas of Tarentum, (i. 220.) This Poet was contemporary 
 
 with Pyrrhus, king- of Epirus, and was probably carried 
 
 away by him as a hostage for the fidelity of his native 
 
 city, in the year 278 before Christ. See note, page 340. 
 
 xix. Offering of three Brother Sportsmen 424 
 
 xxx. Offering to the Rural Deities - - 422 
 
 xxxix. Inscription on the Banks of a River - 355 
 
 xli. On the Statue of Venus Anadyomene - 371 
 
 xlix. On Homer - 363 
 
 lv. Home - 111 
 
 Ivii. The Return of Spring to Sailors - 352 
 
INDEX. 515 
 
 xcix. Epitaph by a Mother on her Son - p. 286 
 
 c. Epitaph on himself - - 300 
 
 Theocritus, i. (375.) Flourished at the court of Hiero, king 
 of Syracuse, about 250, A.' C. 
 
 xx. Epitaph on Hipponax, the Satirical Poet 298 
 
 Callimachus, (i. 461.) At the Court of Ptolemy Philadelphus* 
 about A. C. 280. 
 
 xxxi. The Virgin's Offering to Venns - 424 
 
 xlix. Epitaph on a virtuous Man - - 294 
 
 lvii. - on a Friend drowned at Sea - 28T 
 
 Ix. On the Death of Cleombrotus - - 113 
 
 Epitaph of a Friend 288 
 
 of a Drunkard (Anth. Ined.) - 459 
 
 Hedylus, (i. 482.) Said to have been a native of Sicily, and a 
 pastoral Poet. He appears to have lived in the time of 
 Ptolemy Philadelphus. 
 
 vi. On Gout, the Daughter of Intemperance 45T 
 
 Alc^ecs the Messenian, (i. 488.) 
 
 xviii. Epitaph of Hipponax - - 298 
 
 Dioscorides, supposed to be the same with the philosopher of 
 
 that name mentioued by Diogenes Laertius, who lived 
 
 about the time of Ptolomy Philadelphus, (i. 493.) 
 
 xxxiii. Spartan Virtue - - - 117 
 
 Tymnes, or Tymneus, a Cretan, and apparently a contemporary 
 
 of Meleager, about the 164th Olympiad, i. 504. 
 
 iv. Spartan Virtue - - 118 
 
 v. Epitaph ou one who died in a foreign Country 291 
 Antipater of Sidon — also a contemporary of Meleager, who 
 died in the life time of that Poet, and whose Epigrams 
 certainly formed a part of his collection. Many of his 
 Poems clearly point out the dates of their respective 
 composition, such as those which are here translated 
 relative to the sack of Corinth by Mummius, A. C. 
 146. Pliny mentions his death at a good old age; and 
 Cicero praises him for his powers of versiiication, and 
 extraordinary copiousness of language, ii. 6. 
 
 i. On Wine 80 
 
 viii. Under the Rose - - - ib. 
 
 ix. The Widow's Offering - - 426 
 
516 INDEX 
 
 xxxviii. Conjugal Affection - - p. Ill 
 
 xlvii. Epitaph on Erinna the Poetess - 299 
 
 1. On the Destruction of Corinth - . 119 
 
 lxvii. On Orpheus - - 297 
 
 lxxii. On Anacreon - - - ib.- 
 
 Ixxxiv. Epitaph on a Mother and Daughter, who 
 
 killed themselves to avoid captivity - 292 
 
 xc. On a Drunken Old Woman - - 459 
 
 Female Beauty .— (Anth. Ined.) - - 460 
 
 Inscription on a Poplar. — (Anth. Ined.) 357 
 
 Meleager, the earliest Collector of the Anthology. See the 
 
 Account of him in the Preface. — (i. 1.) 
 
 Ixxi. The Deserted Lover 7 
 
 Ixxx. The Lover's Message 1 
 
 lxxxvii. Music and Beauty - - - 15 
 
 xcii. Beauty compared with Flowers - 12 
 
 xciv. The Kiss 23 
 
 cix. Epitaph on his Wife - - 283 
 
 ex. The Return of Spring - - 351 
 
 cxiii. Wine and Water - 83 
 
 exxi. Epitaph of a Virtuous Man - - 294 
 
 exxv. — of a Young Bride - - 283 
 
 Posidippus. (ii. 46.) 
 
 xvi. The Miseries of Human Life - - 105 
 
 Demodocus. (ii. 56.) 
 
 ii. On a Cappadocian stung by a Viper - 457 
 
 Diodorus Zonas (ii. 80.) " the Grammarian," a native of Sardis. 
 — -Strabo mentions two of this name and country; the 
 first, distinguished for his military talents and conduct in 
 the wars of Mithridates; the latter, a contemporary and 
 friend of his own, under the reign of the Emperor 
 Tiberius. 
 
 ix. Epitaph of a Shipwrecked Mariner - 289 
 
 Philodemus. (ii. 83.) By birth a Gadarene, appears to have 
 migrated to Athens in early life, and thence to Rome, 
 where he became intimately connected with Piso, and is 
 particularly mentioned by Cicero in his Oration against 
 that nobleman. See note p. 95. 
 
 x. Constancy - - - 21 
 
INDEX. 51* 
 
 xiii. Music and Beauty - - - p. 15 
 
 xviii. Youthful Beauty - - 13 
 
 xxx. Epitaph of a Friend - - 288 
 
 Invitation to the Anniversary of Epicurus, 
 
 (Anth. Ined.) - - 82 
 
 Archias (ii. 92.) The preceptor and friend of Cicero, who 
 composed one of his most celebrated orations in his 
 defence. 
 
 xxxi. Life and Death - - 109 
 
 Myrinus (ii. 107.) 
 
 iii. On a Picture of Cupid watching the Flocks 
 
 of the Nymphs - - 367 
 
 Antipater of Thessalonica. (ii. 109.) This Poet lived under 
 Augustus, Tiberius, and Caligula. Many of his Epigrams 
 relate to public and other well known events of his time, 
 such as, the battle of Actium ; the invention of water- 
 mills ; the death of the Athleta, Glycon ; the victory ob- 
 tained by Piso over the Bassi ; the Eastern expedition of 
 Germanicus, &c. &c. From all these it appears that he 
 was one of the most celebrated and successful court poets 
 of his day. 
 
 v. The Separation - - - 11 
 
 Crinagoras of Mitylene. (ii. 140.) This was also a court poet, 
 and a client in the family of Augustus. Most of his 
 Epigrams can be chronologically arranged by reference 
 to the subjects of which they treat. In one, he persuades 
 the Emperor to be initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries, 
 a ceremony which is known to have taken place in the 
 year of Rome 723. In another, he congratulates him on 
 the recovery of his health by the use of some mineral 
 waters in the Pyrenees, which he drank on his return 
 from Spain in 729. In a third, he celebrates the retura 
 of Marcellus, from the same province, in 730, &c. &c. 
 The Epigram, p. 7, of this volume, is conjectured to 
 have been addressed to Antonia, on her marriage with 
 Drusus. 
 
 ix. The Bridal Offering - 7 
 
 xxv. On the Death of a Soldier in t^e Army o 
 
 Germanicus - 5 118 
 
 On Robbers. (Anth ned 456 
 
*18 INDEX. 
 
 Bianor. (ii. 154). A native of Bithynia. Lived under Tiberius, 
 as appears from an Epigram which records the earth- 
 quake at Sardis, in the fourth year of that Emperor'* 
 reign. 
 
 xviii. Fraternal Hatred. On the Sons of QEdipus p. 113 
 Antiphilus of Byzantium, (ii. 169.) Flourished under Nero, 
 and from his time to that of Domitian. In one of his 
 Epigrams, he congratulates the people of Rhodes on the 
 restoration of their liberty by the former Emperor, in 
 the year of Rome 806, and in another laments the death 
 of Agricola, which took place, under the reign of the 
 latter, in 846. 
 
 xii. On an Ancient Oak - 356 
 
 xx. On the Picture of Medea, by Timomachus 364 
 Leon ioas of Alexandria, (ii. 190.) iElius, o* Julius Leonidas. 
 Flourished under the Emperor Nero, and from him to 
 Hadrian (812 to 880.) This extraordinary length of 
 literary existence is testified by the subjects of his 
 Epigrams. One is an Address to Agrippina, the mother 
 of Nero ; and others are in celebration of the Philosopher 
 Epictetus and Dionysius the Sophist. He speaks of him- 
 self as having devoted his youth to study, and thus 
 recommended himself to the first literary characters in 
 Rome, with whom he ever afterwards lived in habits of 
 close intimacy. 
 
 iv. On Long Noses - - 464 
 
 xii. On the Votive Image of a Lion - - 421 
 xxiv. On the Armed Statue of Venus - - 372 
 xxix. On the Picture of an Infant, &c. - 366 
 
 xxxii. " After Meat, Mustard" - - - 458 
 
 xxxv. The Dying Soldier - - 119 
 
 xxxix. On Timon of Athens - 303 
 
 Parmenion. (ii. 201.) A Macedonian by birth, and a contem- 
 porary of Philip, the second Collector of the Anthology, 
 ix. On the Battle of Thermopylae - - 116. 
 
 Antiphanes. (ii. 204.) Also of Macedonia, and of the same 
 period. 
 
 vii. On a Fountain, near which a murder had 
 
 been committed. - 360 
 
INDEX. 519 
 
 Philip, (ii. 211.) A native of Thessalonica. The second Col- 
 lector. See Preface. 
 
 lxviii. On a Vine - p. 112 
 
 On a Statue of the River Eurotas (Antb. Ined.) 370 
 Quintus M.Ecrus. (ii. 36.) Supposed by some to be the same 
 with Metius Tarpa, mentioned by Horace, Sat. I. By 
 others, Metius Pomposianus, executed under the reign 
 of Domitian. But both are mere conjectures. 
 
 iii. The Secret divined - - 11 
 
 Xenocritus of Rhodes, (ii. 256.) 
 
 Epitaph of his Daughter, drowned at Sea 28T 
 
 Trajan the Emperor, (ii. 265). This Epigram (a single couplet 
 in the original) is the only composition remaining of this 
 illustrious author. 
 
 On Long Noses - - 465 
 
 Marcus Argentarius. (\i. 266.) Perhaps, the Greek rheto- 
 rician mentioned by Seneca; or perhaps, the Marcus 
 Byzantinus, noticed by Philostratus in the life of Apol- 
 lonius, 
 
 vii. The Task of Love - - 19 
 
 xi. On a Lean Person - 463 
 
 jEmilianus Nioeus. (ii. 275.) 
 
 i. On an Infant at the Breast of a dying Mother 366 
 Tullius Gemincs. (ii. 279.) 
 
 x. On the Monument of Themistocles - 302 
 Onestes (ii. 289.) Called a Corinthian in the titles to his Epi- 
 grams. Reiske supposes his true name to be Onesias. 
 iii. The Difficuity and Reward of Science - 114 
 Lucian. (ii. 308.) 
 
 vi. False Hair and Rouge - ' - 461 
 
 x. On an Idle Servant - - 458 
 
 xxiii. On Long Beards - 455 
 
 xxiv. The Physician and his Son - - 447 
 
 xxix. Pleasure and Pain - 109 
 
 Lucillius. (ii. 317.) 
 
 xix. On Long Noses - - 464 
 
 Iii. On a Notorious Thief - 456 
 
 Ixxiii. On Poets - - 44S 
 
 lxxiii. On the Same Subject « - 449 
 
*20 INDEX. 
 
 lxxvi. On the Same Subject - p. 448 
 
 xciii. On a Bad Painter - 450 
 
 ci. On a Miser ... 456 
 
 cvii. Envy ... 451 
 
 cxix On Fortune - - - 110 
 
 cxx. The Desire of Long Life - - 456 
 
 cxxii. False Friendship - - 114 
 
 cxxiii. The Fear of Death - - 110 
 
 cxxiv. The Good Physician - - 44T 
 
 Nicarchus. (ii. 349.) This Author was by birth a Samian, and 
 appears to have flourished in the second century, in op- 
 position to a conjecture of Fabricius, who places him 
 among the Constantinopolitan writers. 
 
 xii. On an Antiquated Beauty - - 460 
 
 xiv. The Fortune Teller - - 450 
 
 xxvii. On one killed by his Physician - - 448 
 
 xxxii. On a Bad Singer - - 449 
 
 Strato. (ii. 359.) A native of Sardis, and supposed to have 
 flourished early in the third century. His poems, though 
 extremely chaste and elegant in language, are, for the 
 most part, disgraceful in sentiment. I shall therefore be 
 justified in the liberty taken with the sense of those 
 which are here translated. 
 
 xx. Love not extinguished by Age - 4 
 
 xcvi. Anacreontic - - - 79 
 
 Ammianus. (ii. 385.) 
 
 xiii. On a Bad Man - 294 
 
 xv. On Long Noses - 464 
 
 xxv. The All-sufficiency of Love - 3 
 
 Rvfinus. (ii. 390.) 
 
 xv. The Garland - - 6 
 
 xvi. Exhortation to Pleasure - 17 
 
 xx. The Denial of Love - - - 17 
 
 xxii. The Cure of Disdain - 5 
 
 xxiii. Love and Wine - - - 81 
 
 xxiv The Enjoyment of Love - 16 
 
 xxxii. The Warning 4 
 
 xxxiii. Maiden Reserve - 9 
 
 Carphylides. (ii. 401.) 
 
 ii. Epitaph of a Happy Old Man - 298 
 
INDEX." 521 
 
 Philo. (ii. 401.) 
 
 Foolish Old Age - p. 455 
 
 Palladas. (ii. 406.) This Author, in one of his poems, sati- 
 rizes the vanity of the Philosopher Themistius, in 
 attempting to obtain the prefecture of Constantinople, 
 ■which took place in A. D. 368. Reiske supposes him to 
 be the same with Palladius, the author of several Epistles 
 in the collection of Libanius. He was a moderate and 
 philosophical Pagan, and, in one of his Epigrams, la- 
 ments the overthrow of the worship of his forefathers 
 by the Emperor Theodosius. 
 
 iv. Anacreontic - - .77 
 
 vh On Women - 462 
 
 xxix. The Shortness of Life - - 106 
 
 liv. On a Celebrated Actor - - 450 
 
 xcix. Spartan Virtue - - 111 
 
 c. " All the World's a Stage" - - 110 
 
 cii. Shortness of Life - 10T 
 
 cxxviii. The Same Subject - - ib. 
 
 cxxix. The Same Subject - - 108 
 
 Metrodorus. (ii. 476.) 
 
 Converse of the Miseries of Life, by Posi- 
 dippus - 106 
 
 Julian, Prefect of Egypt, (ii. 493.) 
 
 i. Love and Wine - - - 18 
 
 iv. Offering of Lais to Venus - - 427 
 
 viii. The Fisherman's Offering - - 423 
 
 lxvii. On Democritus - . ' - 299 
 
 Marianus Scholasticus. (ii. 511.) 
 
 iv. Inscription on a Bath - 359 
 
 Agathias Scholasticus. (iii. 33.) The third Collector. (See 
 Preface.) 
 
 xii. The Torments of Love 9 
 
 xiii. The Revenge of Love - 6 
 
 xvi. Love and Wine - - - 23 
 
 xxi. The Amorous Artifice . - - 18 
 
 xxiii. Maiden Passion - - - 10 
 
 xxxii. The Mother's Offering - - 425 
 
252 INDEX, 
 
 xxxiii. Address of Anchises to Venus - - p. 2 
 
 lxvii. On a Lawyer - - - 451 
 
 lxx. On a Philosopher - - 452 
 
 lxxv. On a Lean Person - - 463 
 
 lxxxi. On Death ... ioo 
 
 Damocharis. (iii. 69.) A Grammarian, and disciple of Agathias. 
 
 iv. On the Picture of Sappho - - 364 
 
 Paulus Silentiarius. (iii. 71.) The friend of Agathias. (See 
 
 Preface.) 
 
 viii. Love not extinguished by Age 3 
 
 xvii. Beauty compared with Flowers - - 12 
 
 xxiii. The Chain of Love 20 
 
 xxiv. Absence insupportable 3 
 
 xxix. The Drenched Lover - - - . 461 
 
 xxxii. The Victory of Venus - . - - 20 
 
 xxxix. The Farewell - 22 
 
 xli. Offering of a Deserted Lover 8 
 
 lix. The Picture - - 14 
 
 lxi. Garden Scenery - 358 
 
 lxii. The Same Subject - - ib. 
 
 lxxxiii. Epitaph on his Daughter - - 286 
 
 Macedokius. (iii. 111.) A contemporary of Paul and Agathias, 
 
 surnamed vnctTos* or " The Consul." Nothing further is 
 
 known of him. 
 
 xviii. Anacreontic - - 72 
 
 xxiv. The Poet's Offering - 424 
 
 xxxv. Remembrance and Forgetfulness - 114 
 
 EPIGRAMS BY UNCERTAIN AUTHORS, (iii. 151.) 
 
 xviii. Ulysses, on his Return to Ithaca - 112 
 
 lviii. The Lover's Wish - - 14 
 
 lxii. Love not extinguished by Age - 4 
 lxv. Dialogue between a Suitor and his Mistress's 
 
 Maid ... 462 
 
 Ixxxviii. Funeral Honours - - 295 
 
 lxxxi. Anacreontic 79 
 
INDEX. 523 
 
 clxxvii. The Gardener's Offering - - p. 423 
 
 ccxlvii. The Exclamation of Venus - 372 
 
 ccxlix. The Statue of Venus Armed - - 373 
 
 ccxcviii. On the Statue of Niobe - - 371 
 
 cccxxv. Inscription on a Bath - - 359 
 
 ccclxxxi. The Olive and Vine - - 356 
 
 ccccvi. On a Second Marriage - - 462 
 
 ccccviii. On Democritus and Heraclitus - - 337 
 
 ccccxxii. On the Image of a Goat, &c. - - 367 
 
 ccccxliii. On Death - 108 
 
 .ccccxliv. The Same Subject - - ib. 
 
 Dxix. On the Nine Lyrical Poets - - 362 
 
 dxxi. On Sappho - 363 
 
 Dlxi. On Menander - 365 
 
 Dixii. On the Same - - - ib. 
 
 Dcxlii. Epitaph of a Friend - - 288 
 
 Del. On a Happy Old Man - - 293 
 
 Dclxxix. On a Miserable Old Man - - 292 
 
 ©ccxxxviii. The Hope of Immortality - - 296 
 
 Scolium of an Uncertain Author, (i. 91.) xviii. Anacreontic 77 
 
 Anthologia Inedita. — On a Young Mariner - - 289 
 
 On the Tomb of Psamathe at Tri- 
 
 podiscus - - 303 
 
 On Themistocles - - 302 
 
 From Stobseus. Funeral Honours - 295 
 
 From Athenaeus. A Fragment on the Poetess Erinna 300 
 
 BY AUTHORS NOT CONTAINED IN BRUNCK. 
 
 Gregory Nazianzen. 
 
 On a Youth of Fair Promise - - 290 
 
 Another on the Same - - ib. 
 
 Another on the Same - - 291 
 
 Joannes Lascaris. Contemporary with the capture of Con- 
 stantinople by the Turks. 
 
 Epitaph of a Noble Byzantine - 384 
 
524 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 FROM THE LYRICAL POETS. 
 
 Sappho. Ode i. 
 
 The same 
 
 Ode to Venus 
 
 On an illiterate Woman 
 Anacreon. Ode 17 
 
 19 
 
 -20 
 
 34 
 
 84 
 
 p. 34 
 
 35 
 
 36 
 
 125 
 
 75 
 75 
 33 
 32 
 76 
 
 FROM THE PASTORAL POETS. 
 
 Theocritus. The Cyclops 
 Bion. Idyll. 2. Winged Love 
 
 5. On the Shortness of Life 
 
 1 1 . Hymn to the Evening Star 
 
 16. Lamentation of the Cyclops 
 
 Moschus, Idyll. 5. 
 
 > 7. Alpheus and Arethusa 
 
 Cupid turned Ploughman 
 
 25 
 31 
 
 188 
 29 
 29 
 
 354 
 30 
 34 
 
 FROM THE ELEGIAC AND GNOMIC POETS. 
 
 Mimnermus 
 
 Solon 
 
 Simonides 
 
 Theognis 
 
 Tyrtaeus 
 
 lbycus 
 
 Critias 
 
 p. 180, 181 
 
 181,2,3 
 
 184,5 
 
 186,7,8 
 
 189, 10,11, 12 
 
 353 
 
 85 
 
INDEX. 
 
 525 
 
 FRAGMENTS OF DRAMATIC AUTHORS. 
 
 Menander p. 
 
 217,8,9,20 x 
 
 Diodorus 
 
 p. ib. 
 
 Philemon 
 
 220, 1 
 
 Theophilus 
 
 226 
 
 Antiphanes - 
 
 - 221,2 
 
 Crates 
 
 ib. 
 
 Anaxandrides 
 
 - 222, 121 
 
 Pherecrates 
 
 227 
 
 Moschion 
 
 223 
 
 Plato 
 
 370 
 
 Astydaraas - 
 
 224 
 
 Aristophon 
 
 - 453,454 
 
 Euphorion - 
 
 ib. 
 
 Alexis 
 
 454 
 
 Clearchus 
 
 - ib. 
 
 Phoenix of i 
 
 Colophon 33 
 
 Eiibulus 
 
 225, 369 
 
 Uncertain 
 
 228, 229 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE GRECIAN DRAMA, p. 240 to 267. 
 
 London : Printed by W. Bulmer and Co. 
 Cleveland-row, St. James's. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 66. line 5. " que ne vous faites vous venir." reacl le. 
 
 87. 6. " cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac." 
 
 137. 2. " Elle fuit d'un, faux savant," erase the 
 
 comma. 
 
 168. 2. from the bottom. « A M. de l'Isle," read 
 
 " the Chevalier de l'Isle." 
 
 175. W.Spectaris et tu spectabere," read " Spectas." 
 
 211. last line. For " Necera," read "• Neaera." 
 256. line 7. " From the Hecuba of Euripides," read 
 " TroadesJ" 
 
 259. 17. " From the Andromache of Euripides," read 
 
 " Troades" 
 
 ib. 14. For " Fears, read " Tears." 
 
 353. 4. dele comma. 
 
 364. " On the Picture of Medea by Timomachus," erase 
 
 the initial M. 
 376. line 11. For "firs," read ''first:* 
 
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