ODE XII. THEY tell how Atys, wild with love, The gloomy blast returns the sound! They tell how Atys, wild with love, Roams the mount and haunted grove;] There are many contradictory stories of the loves of Cybele and Atys. It is certain that he was mutilated, but whether by his own fury, or Cybele's jealousy, is a point upon which authors are not agreed. Cybele's name he howls around, &c.] I have here adopted the accentuation which Elias Andreas gives to Cybele: In montibus Cybèlen Magno sonans boatu. Oft too, by Claros' hallow'd spring, &c] This fountain was in a grove, consecrated to Apollo, and situated between Colophon and Lebedos, in Ionia. The god had an oracle there. Scaliger thus alludes to it in his Anacreontica: VOL. I. Semel ut concitus œstro, Veluti qui Clarias aquas Ebibere loquaces, Quo plus canunt, plura volunt. F Quaff the inspiring, magic stream, Full of mirth, and full of him, While floating odours round me swim, Mad, my girl, with love for you! While floating odours, &c.] Spaletti has quite mistaken the import of Kopeσeis, as applied to the poet's mistress- "Meâ fatigatus amicâ ; - thus interpreting it in a sense which must want either delicacy or gallantry; if not, perhaps, both. ODE XIII. I WILL, I will, the conflict's past, Cupid has long, with smiling art, And I have thought that peace of mind And so repell'd the tender lure, And hop'd my heart would sleep secure. But, slighted in his boasted charms, I took to arms, undaunted, too; And what did I unthinking do? I took to arms, undaunted, too;] Longepierre has here quoted an epigram from the Anthologia, in which the poet assumes Reason as the armour against Love. Assum'd the corslet, shield, and spear, Then (hear it, all ye powers above!) I fought with Love! I fought with Love! Ωπλισμαι προς ερωτα περι στερνοισι λογισμον, Ουδε με νικήσει, μονος εων προς ένα Βακχον εχη, τι μονος προς δυ' εγω δύναμαι ; This idea of the irresistibility of Cupid and Bacchus united, is delicately expressed in an Italian poem, which is so truly Anacreontic, that its introduction here may be pardoned. is an imitation, indeed, of our poet's sixth ode. Lavossi Amore in quel vicino fiume Ove giuro (Pastor) che bevend' io Lascivetto mi scherza al cor intorno. Sarei, piu che non sono ebro d'Amore. It And now his arrows all were shed, For Love was in the rippling tide, But ah, 'twere even more fatal far, And, having now no other dart, He shot himself into my heart!] Dryden has parodied this thought in the following extravagant lines : I'm all o'er Love; Nay, I am Love, Love shot, and shot so fast, |