Odes of Anacreon, Volume 1
Hugh Maxwell, opposite Christ-church., 1804 - Classical literature - 301 pages
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amorous Anacreon ancients appears arms Bacchus Barnes beauty believe bliss bloom blushing bosom bowl breast breath brow called charms Cupid Dacier dance dart death Degen desire divine dream drink drops edition elegant epigram expression eyes fair fancy feel fire flame flow flowers fragment gave girl give given glow goblet golden grace hair hand heart hour hymn idea imagination imitated infant kiss leaves light lines Longepierre lyre maid mind Monsieur Muses nature never night nymph o'er original perhaps poem poet preserved quoted remarks rich rose rosy round says shade shed sigh sing sleep smile soft song soul spirit sweet tear tell thee thine thou thought translation turn twine Venus verses wanton warm wild wine wing wish young youth δε και μεν τε
Page 188 - Rose, thou art the sweetest flower That ever drank the amber shower; Rose, thou art the fondest child Of dimpled Spring, the wood-nymph wild. Even the Gods, who walk the sky, Are amorous of thy scented sigh.
Page 164 - Thus he spoke, and she the while Heard him with a soothing smile; Then said, "My infant, if so much Thou feel the little wild bee's touch, How must the heart, ah, Cupid!
Page 192 - But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Page 63 - Behold this mirror with a sigh; The locks upon thy brow are few, And, like the rest, they're withering too ! " Whether decline has thinned my hair, I'm sure I neither know nor care ; But this I know, and this I feel, As onward to the tomb I steal, That still as death approaches nearer. The joys of life are sweeter, dearer ; And had I but an hour to live, That little hour to bliss I'd giw ! ODE VIII.
Page 159 - Whatever buds, whatever blows, For thee it buds, for thee it grows. Nor yet art thou the peasant's fear ; To him thy friendly notes are dear ; For thou art mild as matin dew, And still, when summer's flowery hue Begins to paint the bloomy plain, We hear thy sweet prophetic strain ; Thy sweet, prophetic strain we hear, And bless the notes, and thee revere ! The Muses love thy shrilly tone; Apollo calls thee all his own ; 'Twas he who gave that voice to thee, 'Tis he who tunes thy minstrelsy.
Page 281 - Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Page 233 - Caeli, Lesbia nostra, Lesbia illa, Illa Lesbia, quam Catullus unam Plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes, Nunc in quadriviis et angiportis Glubit magnanimi Remi nepotes.
Page 218 - Jove would give the leafy bowers A queen for all their world of flowers, The rose would be the choice of Jove, And blush, the queen of every grove.
Page 194 - While virgin Graces, warm with May, Fling roses o'er her dewy way. The murmuring billows of the deep Have languished into silent sleep ; And mark ! the flitting sea-birds lave Their plumes in the reflecting wave ; While cranes from hoary winter fly To flutter in a kinder sky.
Page 116 - Do villany, do, since you protest to do 't Like workmen. I 'll example you with thievery : The sun 'sa thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun...