ODE IX.—ON A DOVE.[1]
Pretty pigeon, tell me, pray,
Whither speeding, whence away?
Breathing balmy odours round,
Where thy fluttering pinions sound?
Who despatch'd thee through the air?
What commission dost thou bear?
"Anacreon, the blithe and gay,
The master dear whom I obey,
Sent me swift from yonder grove
To seek the lady of his love.
I dare not tell the name she bears,
But beauty's sweetest smile she wears:
Possess'd of every pleasing art,
She reigns supreme o'er every heart.
Fair Venus sold me to the bard,
A little hymn the fix'd reward.[2]
So now the poet's page am I,
His courier through the pathless sky;
And sometimes, as you see me now,
The bearer of some tender vow.
He thinks, perhaps, he pleases me,
By saying I shall soon be free;
But though I should the boon obtain,
His willing slave I'll still remain.
For, ah! I do not wish to roam,
Or quit my sweet, my happy home,
Far flying over hill and plain
My wretched, rustic food to gain;
Or shivering on some tree to stay,
And coo the cheerless hours away:
For now I feast on dainty bread,
And by the hands I love am fed;
And when the cup has pressed his lip,
His sweet delicious wine I sip;
And when my heart is light and gay,
I sometimes little frolics play;
Upon his shoulder take my place,
And with my wings o'erspread his face.
Or if to sleep my humour suit,
I perch upon his warbling lute,
And by his careful hand caress'd,
By softest sounds am lull'd to rest.
I've told you all—begone! adieu!
And let me now my flight pursue.
Nay, friend, no longer urge my stay,
For I have prated like a jay."
- ↑ To understand this ode properly, we must remember that it was a custom among the ancients, when they undertook long journeys, and were desirous of sending back any news with uncommon expedition, to take tame pigeons along with them. When they thought proper to write to their friends, they let one of these birds loose, with letters fastened to its neck: the bird, once released, would never cease its flight till it arrived at its nest and young ones. The same custom is still common among the Turks and other Eastern nations
- ↑ It is impossible not to admire the address and delicacy of this indirect compliment to his own writings. Venus, the goddess of beauty, and mother of the Graces, is represented as being willing to purchase a little hymn of his composing at the price of one of her favourite doves. This passage is cited by Fawkes as a proof that Anacreon wrote hymns in honour of the gods: but be this as it may, it is certain that few fragments have reached us, and those of doubtful authority.