Which now in veiling shadow lies,
Removed from all but Fancy's eyes.
Now, for his feet-but, hold-forbear-
I see a god-like portrait there;

So like Bathyllus !-sure there's none
So like Bathyllus but the Sun!
Oh! let this pictured god be mine,
And keep the boy for Samos' shrine;
Phoebus shall then Bathyllus be,
Bathyllus then the deity!

-But, hold-forbear

I see a god-like portrait there. ] This is very spirited, but it requires explanation. While the artist is pursuing the portrait of Bathyllus, Anacreon, we must suppose, turns round and sees a picture of Apollo, which was intended for an altar at Samos; he instantly tells the painter to cease his work; that this picture will serve for Bathyllus; and that, when he goes to Samos, he may make an Apollo of the portrait of the boy which he had begun.

Bathyllus (says Madame Dacier) could not be more elegantly praised, and this one passage does him more honour than the statue, however beautiful it might be, which Polycrates raised to him."

ODE XVIII.*

Now the star of day is high,
Fly, my girls, in pity fly,

Bring me wine in brimming urns,
Cool my lip, it burns, it burns!
Sunn'd by the meridian fire,
Panting, languid I expire!

Give me all those humid flowers,

Drop them o'er my brow in showers.

* "An elegant translation of this ode may be found in Ramler's Lyr. Blumenlese, lib. v. p. 403." Degen.

Bring me wine in brimming urns, etc.] Orig. αμυςι. "The amystis was a method of drinking used among the Thracians. Thus Horace, Threicia vincat amystide."" Mad. Dacier, Longepierre, etc. etc.

Parrhasius, in his twenty-sixth epistle (Thesaur. Critic. vol. i.), explains the amystis as a draught to be exhausted without drawing breath, "uno haustu." A note in the margin of this epistle of Parrhasius says, "Politianus vestem esse putabat," but I cannot find where.

Give me all those humid flowers, etc.] By the original reading of this line, the poet says, "Give me the flower of wine”—Date flosculos Lyæi, as it is in the version of Elias Andreas; and

Deb porgetimi del fiore

Di quel almo e buon liquore,

as Regnier has it, who supports the reading. Avtos would

Scarce a breathing chaplet now
Lives upon my feverish brow;
Every dewy rose I wear

Sheds its tears, and withers there.

undoubtedly bear this application, which is somewhat similar to its import in the epigram of Simonides upon Sophocles: Εσβεαθης γεραιε Σοφοκλέες, ανθος αοιδών.

And flos, in the Latin, is frequently applied in this manner— thus Cethegus is called by Ennius, Flos inlibatus populi, suadæque medulla, "The immaculate flower of the people, and the very marrow of persuasion," in those verses cited by Aulus Gellius, lib. xii. which Cicero praised, and Seneca thought ridiculous.

But in the passage before us, if we admit exevwv, according to Faber's conjecture, the sense is sufficiently clear, and we need not have recourse to refinements.

Every dewy rose I wear

Sheds its tears, and withers there.] There are some beautiful lines, by Angeriamus, upon a garland, which I cannot resist quoting here:

Ante fores madidæ sic sic pendete corollæ,
Mane orto imponet Cælia vos capiti;

At quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor,
Dicite, non roris sed pluvia hæc lacrimæ.

By Celia's arbour all the night

Hang, humid wreath, the lover's vow;

And haply, at the morning light,

My love shall twine thee round her brow.

Then, if upon her bosom bright

Some drops of dew shall fall from thee,

But for you, my burning mind!
Oh! what shelter shall I find?
Can the bowl, or flow'ret's dew,
Cool the flame that scorches you?

ODE XIX.

*HERE recline you, gentle maid,
Sweet is this imbowering shade;
Sweet the young, the modest trees,
Ruffled by the kissing breeze;

Tell her, they are not drops of night,
But tears of sorrow shed by me!

In the poem of Mr. Sheridan, "Uncouth is this mosscover'd grotto of stone," there is an idea very singularly' coincident with this of Angerianus, in the stanza which begins,

And thou, stony grot, in thy arch may'st preserve.

But for you, my burning mind! etc.] The transition here is peculiarly delicate and impassioned; but the commentators have perplexed the sentiment by a variety of readings and conjectures.

* The description of this bower is so natural and animated, that we cannot help feeling a degree of coolness and freshness while we read it. Longepierre has quoted from the first book

Sweet the little founts that

weep,

Lulling bland the mind to sleep;

of the Anthologia, the following epigram, as somewhat resembling this ode:

Ερχεο και κατ' εμαν ίζευ πιτυν, ά το μελιχρον

Προς μαλακός ηχει κεκλιμένα ζεφυρες.
Ηνιδε και κρενισμα μελιταγες, ενθα μελίσδων
Ηδυν ερημαίαις ύπνον αγω καλαμοις.
Come, sit by the shadowy pine
That covers my sylvan retreat,
And see how the branches incline
The breathing of Zephyr to meet.
See the fountain, that, flowing, diffuses
Around me a glittering spray;
By its brink, as the traveller muses,

I soothe him to sleep with my lay!

Here recline you, gentle maid, etc.] The Vatican MS. reads ßatuλλ8, which renders the whole poem metaphorical. Some commentator suggests the reading of Balvaλoy, which makes a pun upon the name; a grace that Plato himself has condescended to in writing of his boy asng. See the epigram of this philosopher, which I quote on the twenty-second ode. There is another epigram by this philosopher, preserved in Laertius, which turns upon the same word:

Ασης πριν μὲν ελαμπες ενι ζωοισιν ἑωος
Νυν δε θανών, λαμπεις έσπερος εν φθιμενοις.

In life thou wert my morning-star,

But now that death has stolen thy light,
Alas! thou shinest dim and far,

Like the pale beam that weeps at night.

In the Veneres Blyenburgica, under the head of "allusiones," we find a number of such frigid conceits upon names, selected from the poets of the middle ages.