Poems on Several Occasions ... To which is added, the Plague of Wealth, Occasion'd By the Author's receiving fifty Pounds from his Excellency the Lord Carteret, for the foremention'd Ode. With several Poems not in the Dublin Edition. By Matthew Pilkington. Revised by the Reverend Dr. Swift |
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| A PARAPHRASE Of some of the ODES OF ANACREON:
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| XXXIV. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
109
A PARAPHRASE Of some of the ODES OF ANACREON:
BEING An ESSAY towards a Translation of that POET.
Te sequor, O Graiæ gentis decus,—propter amorem,
Quod te imitari aveo.
Quod te imitari aveo.
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ODE I.
Fain wou'd I, in lofty Verse,
Hero's godlike Acts rehearse,
Fain wou'd I a Subject chuse
Worthy of the noblest Muse,
Grecian Chiefs, or Theban Woes
Which from civil Discord 'rose,
But the Strings and Lyre approve
Nought but Softness, nought but Love.
Hero's godlike Acts rehearse,
Fain wou'd I a Subject chuse
Worthy of the noblest Muse,
Grecian Chiefs, or Theban Woes
Which from civil Discord 'rose,
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Nought but Softness, nought but Love.
Once, I chang'd the Strings and Lyre,
Which wou'd nought but Love inspire,
Strove to sing in loftier Lays,
Many a matchless Hero's Praise,
Toils Herculean, far-renown'd,
With immortal Honours crown'd;
Vain Attempt! for ev'ry String
Echoes Love to all I sing.
Which wou'd nought but Love inspire,
Strove to sing in loftier Lays,
Many a matchless Hero's Praise,
Toils Herculean, far-renown'd,
With immortal Honours crown'd;
Vain Attempt! for ev'ry String
Echoes Love to all I sing.
Farewel Heroes,—ne'er shall I
Such exalted Subjects try,
Ever tender be my Lay,
Ever soft, and ever gay,
Since the Strings alone approve
Soothing Sounds, and Sounds of Love.
Such exalted Subjects try,
Ever tender be my Lay,
Ever soft, and ever gay,
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Soothing Sounds, and Sounds of Love.
ODE II.
Nature, bounteously array'd
Ev'ry Animal she made
With such Arms, as best conduce
To its Safety, or its Use.
Ev'ry Animal she made
With such Arms, as best conduce
To its Safety, or its Use.
Nature horny Terrors spread
O'er the Bull's majestic Head:
Hoofs she gave the gen'rous Steed,
And to Hares the Light'ning's Speed:
To the scaly Kind she gave
Finns, to cut the chrystal Wave:
To the Birds, exempt from Care,
Wings to sport in Fields of Air;
But, to nobler Man assign'd
An intrepid martial Mind.
O'er the Bull's majestic Head:
Hoofs she gave the gen'rous Steed,
And to Hares the Light'ning's Speed:
To the scaly Kind she gave
Finns, to cut the chrystal Wave:
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Wings to sport in Fields of Air;
But, to nobler Man assign'd
An intrepid martial Mind.
What had Nature left, to grace
The diviner Female Race?
Beauty: whose prevailing Charms
Prove the most resistless Arms:
Beauty Shield and Sword supplies,
Beauty vanquishes the Wise;
Beauty, made to be ador'd,
Safe defies the threat'ning Sword,
Can devouring Flames asswage,
And repel their desp'rate Rage;
Beauty, makes the Hero fall,
Conquers those who conquer all.
The diviner Female Race?
Beauty: whose prevailing Charms
Prove the most resistless Arms:
Beauty Shield and Sword supplies,
Beauty vanquishes the Wise;
Beauty, made to be ador'd,
Safe defies the threat'ning Sword,
Can devouring Flames asswage,
And repel their desp'rate Rage;
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Conquers those who conquer all.
ODE III.
The Stars, those glitt'ring Worlds of Light,
That gild the dusky Face of Night,
And deck the boundless airy Plain,
Had finish'd half their nightly Reign,
And Men by weak'ning Toil subdu'd,
Dissolv'd in Sleep, their Strength renew'd,
When Cupid, God of sweet Deceit,
Impatient thunder'd at my Gate.
That gild the dusky Face of Night,
And deck the boundless airy Plain,
Had finish'd half their nightly Reign,
And Men by weak'ning Toil subdu'd,
Dissolv'd in Sleep, their Strength renew'd,
When Cupid, God of sweet Deceit,
Impatient thunder'd at my Gate.
“Who is't so rudely knocks, and tries
“To banish Slumber from my Eyes,
“To tear the blissful Dreams away
“With which the Soul delights to play?
“To banish Slumber from my Eyes,
116
“With which the Soul delights to play?
Then Love: Ah! be not Friend, afraid,
To lend your hospitable Aid,
For I'm a Boy, unfit to bear
The dreary Night's inclement Air;
The Moon o'ercast, her Light denies
To guide my Steps, and bless my Eyes,
I've wander'd, chill'd with Cold and Rain,
And sought some Place of Rest, in vain.
To lend your hospitable Aid,
For I'm a Boy, unfit to bear
The dreary Night's inclement Air;
The Moon o'ercast, her Light denies
To guide my Steps, and bless my Eyes,
I've wander'd, chill'd with Cold and Rain,
And sought some Place of Rest, in vain.
I pitied, while I heard his Woes,
And quick to his Assistance rose,
I soon reviv'd the faded Light
To ease his Fears, and cheer his Sight;
And op'ning, saw an Infant stand,
A Bow smooth-polish'd in his Hand,
Two Wings, to wanton with the Wind,
Their silver Plumage spread behind,
And o'er his snowy Shoulder slung,
The shaftful Quiver id'ly hung.
And quick to his Assistance rose,
I soon reviv'd the faded Light
To ease his Fears, and cheer his Sight;
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A Bow smooth-polish'd in his Hand,
Two Wings, to wanton with the Wind,
Their silver Plumage spread behind,
And o'er his snowy Shoulder slung,
The shaftful Quiver id'ly hung.
To swell his Heart with vig'rous Heat
Before th' enliv'ning Fire I sate,
His little Hands with mine I warm,
From which I ne'er suspected Harm,
His Limbs I chaf'd, and press'd with Care
The chilling Moisture from his Hair.
Before th' enliv'ning Fire I sate,
His little Hands with mine I warm,
From which I ne'er suspected Harm,
His Limbs I chaf'd, and press'd with Care
The chilling Moisture from his Hair.
New Life the vital Warmth supplies,
And come, “Let's try this Bow, he cries,
“If yet the moisten'd Nerve can throw
“The Dart, or bend the circling Bow.
And come, “Let's try this Bow, he cries,
118
“The Dart, or bend the circling Bow.
He strains the flexile Horn, and drew
The Shaft, which too unerring flew,
Like Light'ning it transfix'd my Heart,
And scatter'd Pains thro' ev'ry Part.
The Shaft, which too unerring flew,
Like Light'ning it transfix'd my Heart,
And scatter'd Pains thro' ev'ry Part.
Away the Wanton lightly springs,
And, laughing, waves his downy Wings,
And cries, with me rejoice my Friend,
My Fears were vain, my Sorrows end,
My Bow's uninjur'd, but thy Breast
With pale, enfeebling Grief possest,
Shall swell with Woes unfelt before,
And find it's wonted Peace no more.
And, laughing, waves his downy Wings,
And cries, with me rejoice my Friend,
My Fears were vain, my Sorrows end,
My Bow's uninjur'd, but thy Breast
With pale, enfeebling Grief possest,
Shall swell with Woes unfelt before,
And find it's wonted Peace no more.
119
ODE IV.
On Myrtles laid, with Roses crown'd,
And Flow'rs that breathe Delight around,
I'll drink, and all my Soul incline
To Mirth, the Child of gen'rous Wine.
And Flow'rs that breathe Delight around,
I'll drink, and all my Soul incline
To Mirth, the Child of gen'rous Wine.
Then Love shall like my Slave, prepare
The genial Bowl that poisons Care;
For, swiftly as the Chariot flies,
To win the hard-contested Prize,
Our Life as swiftly rolls away
With all that's pleasing, all that's gay.
This Frame must soon to Ashes turn,
And fill the cold Sepulchral Urn,
And Silence chain the tuneful Tongue,
Each Bone dissolv'd, each Nerve unstrung.
The genial Bowl that poisons Care;
For, swiftly as the Chariot flies,
To win the hard-contested Prize,
Our Life as swiftly rolls away
With all that's pleasing, all that's gay.
120
And fill the cold Sepulchral Urn,
And Silence chain the tuneful Tongue,
Each Bone dissolv'd, each Nerve unstrung.
Why on our Tombs are Unguents spread,
Superfluous Care! to grace the Dead?
And why the vain Libation paid,
To honour an inconscious Shade?
Rather to me, while yet I live,
The costly fragrant Blessings give:
My Head with roseate Crowns adorn,
Whose Sweets surpass the Breath of Morn,
And call the Fair, whose Charms impart
Soft Ecstasies that sway the Heart.
Superfluous Care! to grace the Dead?
And why the vain Libation paid,
To honour an inconscious Shade?
Rather to me, while yet I live,
The costly fragrant Blessings give:
My Head with roseate Crowns adorn,
Whose Sweets surpass the Breath of Morn,
And call the Fair, whose Charms impart
Soft Ecstasies that sway the Heart.
121
O Love, e'er I'm compell'd to go
To Crowds of joyless Shades below,
My Soul shall ev'ry Pleasure share,
And court Delight, and banish Care.
To Crowds of joyless Shades below,
My Soul shall ev'ry Pleasure share,
And court Delight, and banish Care.
ODE V.
With Wine, that blissful Joys bestows,
Let's mix the sweetly-breathing Rose,
Love's fav'rite Flow'r; and while we spread
It's blushing Beauties round the Head,
Let's drink, and laughing Cares away,
With Wine-begotten Smiles look gay.
Let's mix the sweetly-breathing Rose,
Love's fav'rite Flow'r; and while we spread
It's blushing Beauties round the Head,
Let's drink, and laughing Cares away,
With Wine-begotten Smiles look gay.
Thou fairest, all-surpassing Rose,
What Charms thy op'ning Leaves disclose!
O thou, the Spring's peculiar Care,
Whose Sweets enrich the vernal Air!
Belov'd, and courted here on Earth,
And pleasing those of heav'nly Birth!
When Love, the Child of Venus, leads
The Graces, ever-blooming Maids
In sportive Dance, thy Blossoms fair
In fragrant Wreaths adorn his Hair.
What Charms thy op'ning Leaves disclose!
122
Whose Sweets enrich the vernal Air!
Belov'd, and courted here on Earth,
And pleasing those of heav'nly Birth!
When Love, the Child of Venus, leads
The Graces, ever-blooming Maids
In sportive Dance, thy Blossoms fair
In fragrant Wreaths adorn his Hair.
Then crown me while I strike the Lyre,
And wake the Notes that Mirth inspire:
O Bacchus, near thy sacred Shrine,
With blooming Virgins half-divine,
While rosy Wreaths my Temples bind,
I'll Dance, with ever-chearful Mind.
And wake the Notes that Mirth inspire:
O Bacchus, near thy sacred Shrine,
With blooming Virgins half-divine,
While rosy Wreaths my Temples bind,
I'll Dance, with ever-chearful Mind.
123
ODE VII.
'Twas
Love's Command, fair Beauty's Son,
That I shou'd nimbly with him run,
And when, by cautious Fear delay'd,
I slowly with Regret obey'd,
He urg'd me with a purple Wand,
That grac'd his all-subduing Hand.
That I shou'd nimbly with him run,
And when, by cautious Fear delay'd,
I slowly with Regret obey'd,
He urg'd me with a purple Wand,
That grac'd his all-subduing Hand.
Thro' rushing Torrents swift we go,
And Streams that roughly rapid flow,
Thro' Woods that wave with passing Gales,
Embow'ring Groves, and low-sunk Vales:
But whilst the Infant Pow'r, and I
Thro' Vales, and Groves, and Torrents fly,
A Serpent's Sting, thro' ev'ry Vein,
Diffus'd a Heart-enfeebling Pain,
Thro' all my Limbs a Faintness spread,
My Strength decay'd, my Vigour fled,
The Soul seem'd hast'ning to depart,
And Life scarce warm'd my languid Heart.
And Streams that roughly rapid flow,
Thro' Woods that wave with passing Gales,
Embow'ring Groves, and low-sunk Vales:
But whilst the Infant Pow'r, and I
Thro' Vales, and Groves, and Torrents fly,
124
Diffus'd a Heart-enfeebling Pain,
Thro' all my Limbs a Faintness spread,
My Strength decay'd, my Vigour fled,
The Soul seem'd hast'ning to depart,
And Life scarce warm'd my languid Heart.
But Love immediate Comfort brings,
He fans me with his downy Wings,
“And know, from thy Contempt (he cries,)
“Of Cupid's Laws, thy Woes arise,
“Now, taught by Pain, his Pow'r adore,
“And tempt his just Revenge no more.
He fans me with his downy Wings,
“And know, from thy Contempt (he cries,)
“Of Cupid's Laws, thy Woes arise,
“Now, taught by Pain, his Pow'r adore,
“And tempt his just Revenge no more.
125
ODE VIII.
'Twas when the mirth-exciting Bowl
Had sooth'd my Cares, and rais'd the Soul,
That I on purple Carpets spread
My Limbs at Ease, and lean'd my Head,
'Till Sleep, the soft-wing'd Child of Night,
With Shades enveil'd my swimming Sight.
Had sooth'd my Cares, and rais'd the Soul,
That I on purple Carpets spread
My Limbs at Ease, and lean'd my Head,
'Till Sleep, the soft-wing'd Child of Night,
With Shades enveil'd my swimming Sight.
Then seem'd I swift in am'rous Play,
To run with Virgins, fair as Day,
While Youths, more delicately fram'd
Than that soft God Lyœus nam'd,
Reproach'd my too advent'rous Age,
That dare such Bloom and Youth engage,
—For Love—was a prepost'rous Crime,
In one so silver'd o'er by Time.
To run with Virgins, fair as Day,
While Youths, more delicately fram'd
Than that soft God Lyœus nam'd,
Reproach'd my too advent'rous Age,
That dare such Bloom and Youth engage,
126
In one so silver'd o'er by Time.
But while, to perfect all my Bliss,
I wish'd to snatch a fragrant Kiss,
From these my Sleep-forsaken Eyes,
The Fancy's fair Creation flies,
The sweet Illusions flit away,
And all the pleasing Forms decay.
I wish'd to snatch a fragrant Kiss,
From these my Sleep-forsaken Eyes,
The Fancy's fair Creation flies,
The sweet Illusions flit away,
And all the pleasing Forms decay.
Abandon'd, wretched, griev'd, alone,
I sigh'd, the lov'ly Phantoms flown,
I wish'd, I strove, but strove in vain,
To dream the Rapture o'er again.
I sigh'd, the lov'ly Phantoms flown,
I wish'd, I strove, but strove in vain,
To dream the Rapture o'er again.
127
ODE IX.
Lov'ly, Snow-surpassing Dove,
Sacred to the Queen of Love,
Downy Wand'rer! whence, and where
Dost thou wanton thro' the Air?
How can'st thou thro' all the Sky
Breathe such Odours as you fly?
Where did'st thou the Fragrance steal,
Thus to scent the passing Gale?
How, from all thy glossy Plumes
Drop such ever-sweet Perfumes;
Stay—, and let thy Tongue impart
Whither hast'ning, whose thou art.
Sacred to the Queen of Love,
Downy Wand'rer! whence, and where
Dost thou wanton thro' the Air?
How can'st thou thro' all the Sky
Breathe such Odours as you fly?
Where did'st thou the Fragrance steal,
Thus to scent the passing Gale?
How, from all thy glossy Plumes
Drop such ever-sweet Perfumes;
Stay—, and let thy Tongue impart
Whither hast'ning, whose thou art.
128
Thro' the wide-expanded Air,
I Anacreon's Message bear,
Tender Love, and smiling Joy,
To the sweetly-featur'd Boy,
Who, of Charms divine possest,
Reigns ador'd in ev'ry Breast.
I Anacreon's Message bear,
Tender Love, and smiling Joy,
To the sweetly-featur'd Boy,
Who, of Charms divine possest,
Reigns ador'd in ev'ry Breast.
For an Hymn, the Queen of Love
Sold me, tho' her fav'rite Dove:
Now Anacreon I obey,
Tender Poet! ever gay!
These are now my pleasing Care,
These his soft Epistles are,
Who, still bountiful to me,
Promis'd soon to set me free.
Sold me, tho' her fav'rite Dove:
Now Anacreon I obey,
Tender Poet! ever gay!
These are now my pleasing Care,
These his soft Epistles are,
129
Promis'd soon to set me free.
Yet, cou'd I my Freedom gain,
I wou'd still a Slave remain:
Servitude will blissful prove,
If enslav'd to those we love.
I wou'd still a Slave remain:
Servitude will blissful prove,
If enslav'd to those we love.
Why need I, with anxious Care,
Wish to wander thro' the Air,
Or to haunt sequestred Scenes,
Groves, where lonely Silence reigns;
O'er the rocky Hills to fly,
Barren Scenes that tire the Eye;
Or from Field to Field to stray,
All the slow-consuming Day;
Or on Sprays to sit and moan,
Pensive, comfortless, alone,
Eating what thro' all the Fields,
Nature's wild Profusion yields?
Since my kind Possessor grants
Sweet Supply for all my Wants,
Since from his unsparing Hand
Where I fondly-cooing stand,
I can now, in wanton play,
Snatch delicious Food away.
Wish to wander thro' the Air,
Or to haunt sequestred Scenes,
Groves, where lonely Silence reigns;
O'er the rocky Hills to fly,
Barren Scenes that tire the Eye;
Or from Field to Field to stray,
All the slow-consuming Day;
130
Pensive, comfortless, alone,
Eating what thro' all the Fields,
Nature's wild Profusion yields?
Since my kind Possessor grants
Sweet Supply for all my Wants,
Since from his unsparing Hand
Where I fondly-cooing stand,
I can now, in wanton play,
Snatch delicious Food away.
From Anacreon's nectar'd Bowl
Wine I sip that cheers the Soul,
Wine, that makes his Numbers gay,
Parent of the sprightly Lay:
Raptur'd then my Wings I spread,
Gently-waving, o'er his Head,
While my fondling Motions tell
What Delights my Bosom swell.
Wine I sip that cheers the Soul,
Wine, that makes his Numbers gay,
Parent of the sprightly Lay:
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Gently-waving, o'er his Head,
While my fondling Motions tell
What Delights my Bosom swell.
These are Pleasures which employ
All my Moments, wing'd with Joy,
And when these Amusements tire,
On his Soul-enchanting Lyre
Resting, Sleep with sweet Surprize,
Soft-descending Seals my Eyes.
All my Moments, wing'd with Joy,
And when these Amusements tire,
On his Soul-enchanting Lyre
Resting, Sleep with sweet Surprize,
Soft-descending Seals my Eyes.
Hence, inquiring Stranger, go,
You have all you wish'd to know;
I shall prattle while I stay
More incessant than a Jay.
You have all you wish'd to know;
I shall prattle while I stay
More incessant than a Jay.
132
ODE XXXIV.
Nay—fly me not, alluring Fair,
Nor scorn these Locks of silver Hair,
Tho' Youth now lends thee ev'ry Grace,
And Beauty blooming paints thy Face,
Tho' Nature o'er thy Cheeks hath spread
The smiling Morning's purest Red,
Tho' all that's lov'ly dwells in thee,
Yet fly not thus from Love, and Me.
Nor scorn these Locks of silver Hair,
Tho' Youth now lends thee ev'ry Grace,
And Beauty blooming paints thy Face,
Tho' Nature o'er thy Cheeks hath spread
The smiling Morning's purest Red,
Tho' all that's lov'ly dwells in thee,
Yet fly not thus from Love, and Me.
How do those Wreaths delight the Eye,
Compos'd of Blooms of various Dye!
See, Nymph, how fair the Lilly shows,
Entwin'd around the blushing Rose!
Compos'd of Blooms of various Dye!
See, Nymph, how fair the Lilly shows,
Entwin'd around the blushing Rose!
| Poems on Several Occasions | |