ODE XI.—ON HIMSELF.[1]
"Anacreon," the lasses say,
"Old fellow, you have had your day:
Consult your mirror, mark with care,[2]
How scanty now your silver hair;[3]
Old wintry Time has shed his snows,
And bald and bare your forehead shows."
But faith! I know not where they're gone,
Or if I've any left—or none;
But this I know, that every day
Shall see me sportive, blithe, and gay;
For 'tis our wisdom so to do
The nearer death appears in view.
- ↑ However successfully the spirit and meaning of this author may sometimes be preserved, it is impossible to convey an adequate idea of that facility of thought and easiness of expression which are so peculiarly his own. What would in others justly be considered the perfection of art, in him appears perfectly natural; and one might almost imagine that his numbers flowed spontaneously to the warblings of his lyre. These remarks are particularly applicable to this ode, which, for simplicity and playfulness of expression, is inferior to no one in the collection.
- ↑ Before the invention of glass, mirrors were used made of brass or some other metal, and sometimes of stones highly polished.
- ↑ It was remarked by an ancient author that Venus herself, if destitute of hair, would not, though surrounded by the Loves and Graces, have had charms sufficient to please her husband Vulcan.