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.
ODE VII.—ON CUPID.[1]
Cupid once, with staff in hand,
(A slender hyacinthine wand,)
Slow walking with a tottering pace,
Defied me to the rapid race.
Away we flew o'er flood and fell,
O'er craggy rock and bushy dell,
Till hastening on with swiftest speed,
A serpent stung me; then indeed[2]
My heart forgot its wonted play;
I fainted—sunk—and died away.
- ↑ As commentators are by no means agreed either as to the text or meaning of this ode, I have given it the turn which I conceived most agreeable to the genius and style of the author. By a pleasing allegory, he seems to intimate, that under whatever disguise love may appear, his power is equally certain and resistless.
- ↑ It is observed by Madame Dacier that his being stung by a serpent was a punishment for his insensibility and presumption.
sage: "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.
