He still can chant the festive hymn,
He still can kiss the goblet's brim;[1]
As deeply quaff, as largely fill,
And play the fool right nobly still.
[1] Wine is prescribed by Galen, as an excellent medicine for old men:
"_Quod frigidos et humbribus expletos calefaciut_," etc.; but Nature was
Anacreon's physician.
There is a proverb in Eriphus, as quoted by Athenaeus, which says, "that
wine makes an old man dance, whether he will or not."
ODE. LIV.[1]
Methinks, the pictured bull we see
Is amorous Jove--it must be he!
How fondly blest he seems to bear
That fairest of Phoenician fair!
How proud he breasts the foamy tide,
And spurns the billowy surge aside!
Could any beast of vulgar vein,
Undaunted thus defy the main?
No: he descends from climes above,
He looks the God, he breathes of Jove!
[1] "This ode is written upon., a picture which represented the rape, of
Europa."--MADAME DACIER.
It may probably have been a description of one of those coins, which the
Sidonians struck off in honor of Europa, representing a woman carried
across the sea by a bull. In the little treatise upon the goddess of
Syria, attributed very' falsely to Lucian, there is mention of this coin,
and of a temple dedicated by the Sidonians to Astarte, whom some, it
appears, confounded with Europa.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100