ODE VI.—THE BANQUET.
With glowing wreaths of roses crown'd,
We'll pass the cheerful goblet round;
But with no squeamish, modest sips,
The cup shall kiss our thirsty lips.
And see, to grace the festive hour,
The maiden seeks our shelter'd bower,[1]
Whose pretty, slender foot well suits
The music of the soft-toned lutes;
While ivy wreath'd, her thyrsus fair[2]
She rustles through the yielding air.
And hark! a fair-hair'd youth begins,[3]
And as he wakes the warbling strings
His liquid voice breathes odours round,
And mingles with the melting sound.
With golden locks, young Cupid see,
And Bacchus, young and fair as he;
With these is lovely Venus too,
Who hastes to join the sportive crew;
While we old men can scarce refrain
To live the life we loved again.
- ↑ A custom seems to be here alluded to which is still common in Turkey; at the entertainments of persons of consequence dancing girls, called almas, are hired to amuse the company by their performances.
- ↑ The thyrsus was a spear encircled with ivy, and sometimes with vine leaves, and was carried by those who attended the feasts in honour of Bacchus.
- ↑ The following extract may perhaps elucidate this passage: "The summer is already far advanced in this part of the world; and, for some miles round Adrianople, the whole ground is laid out in gardens, and the banks of the rivers are set with rows of fruit trees, under which all the most considerable Turks divert themselves every evening; not with walking, that is not one of their pleasures; but a set party of them choose out a green spot, where the shade is very thick, and there they spread a carpet, on which they sit drinking their coffee, and are generally attended by some slave with a fine voice, or that plays on some instrument."—Lady Montague's Letters. Letter to Mr. Pope from Adrianople, April 1st, 1717.