even later. They are invariably about wine and love and have inspired many
translations and imitations. ‘The wounded Cupid’ is in the manner of Anacreon, here
translated by Robert Herrick in a version that captures the playful charm and light wit
of its original:
Cupidas he lay among
Roses,by a bee was stung.
Whereupon in anger flying
To his mother, said, thus crying;
‘Help! O help! Your boy’s a dying.’
‘And why, my pretty lad?’ said she.
Then blubbering, replied he;
‘A winged snake has bitten me,
Which country people call a bee.’
At which she smiled; then with her hairs
And kisses drying up his tears;
‘Alas!’ said she, ‘my wag! If this
Such a pernicious torment is,
Come tell me then, how great’s the smart
Of those, thou woundest with thy dart! (1648)
(Anacreontea35 in The Oxford Book of Classical Verse in Translation)The second, published by Christopher Smart in 1756, has a more melancholy
undertone, rejecting in its central verse the vanity of external decoration (incense on
the ‘pavements’, that is, floors, and the vanity of libations, pouring wine into the
‘senseless earth’), and evoking in the final verse the unappealing twilight world of the
pagan afterlife.
Beneath this fragrant myrtle shade
While I my weary limbs recline,
Olove, be thou my Ganymede,
And hither bring the generous wine!How swift the wheel of time revolves!
How soon life’s little race is o’er!
And, oh! when death this frame dissolves,
Mirth, joy, and frolic is no more!Why then, ah! fool, profusely vain,
With incense shall thy pavements shine?LITERATURE 185