ODE V.—ON THE ROSE.[1]
With sparkling wine sweet roses join,
'Twill make the nectar'd draught divine;
Let mirth and laughter rule the hour,
While roses, pluck'd from Love's own bower,
Around our moisten'd temples twine,
And add fresh fragrance to the wine.
Oh, lovely rose! to thee I sing,
Thou sweetest, fairest child of spring!
Oh thou art dear to all the gods,
The darling of their bless'd abodes.
Thy breathing buds and blossoms fair
Entwine young Cupid's golden hair,
When gayly dancing, hand in hand,
He joins the Graces' lovely band.
Then bring fresh garlands, crown my brows,
And while thus joyous, I carouse,
Admitted, Bacchus, to thy shrine,
Thy praise I'll sing in hymns divine;
Or, thick with rosy chaplets crown'd,
With Chloe dance a sprightly round,
Whose snowy bosom softly swells,
And tales of tender transport tells.
- ↑ Among the ancients, especially the Grecians, the rose was particularly esteemed. It was always introduced at entertainments; and it was customary on such occasions to employ flowers and perfumes, not merely for pleasure, but because they imagined their odours prevented the intoxicating effects of wine. With the Romans they were held in equal estimation, as appears from the following passage:—
"Here pour your wines, your odours shed;
Bring forth the rose's shortlived flower,
While fate yet spins thy mortal thread,
While youth and fortune give th' indulgent hour."
Francis's Horace, b. ii., ode 3.