Once, to this Lemnian cave of flame,
The crested Lord of battles came;
'T was from the ranks of war he rush'd,
His spear with many a life-drop blush'd!

Labuntur gemini fontes, hic dulcis, amarus
Alter, et infusis corrumpit mella venenis,
Unde Cupidineas armavit fama sagittas.
In Cyprus' isle two rippling fountains fall,
And one with honey flows, and one with gall;
In these, if we may take the tale from fame,
The son of Venus dips his darts of flame.

See the ninety-first emblem of Alciatus, on the close connexion which subsists between sweets and bitterness. Apes ideo pungunt (says Petronius) quia ubi dulce, ibi et acidum invenies.

The allegorical description of Cupid's employment, in Horace, may vie with this before us in fancy, though not in delicacy:

And Cupid, sharpening all his fiery darts,

Upon a whetstone stain'd with blood of hearts.

He saw the mystic darts, and smil'd

Derision on the archer-child.

"And dost thou smile?" said little Love;
Take this dart, and thou may'st prove,
That though they pass the breeze's flight,
My bolts are not so feathery light."
He took the shaft-and, oh! thy look,
Sweet Venus! when the shaft he took-

He sigh'd, and felt the urchin's art;
He sigh'd, in agony of heart,

"It is not light-I die with pain!
Take-take thy arrow back again.”

"No," said the child, "it must not be, That little dart was made for thee!"

Secundus has borrowed this, but has somewhat softened the image by the omission of the epithet "cruentâ."

Fallor an ardentes acuebat cote sagittas? Eleg. 1.

ODE XXIX.

YES-loving is a painful thrill,
And not to love more painful still;
But surely 't is the worst of pain,
To love and not be lov'd again!

Yes-loving is a painful thrill,

And not to love more painful still ; &c.] Monsieur Menage, in the following Anacreontic, enforces the necessity of loving :

Περι τε δειν φιλησαι.

Προς Πετρον Δανιηλα Λεττον.

Μεγα θαύμα των αοιδών

Χαριτων θαλος Υεττε,

Φιλέωμεν ω ἑταιρε.

Φίλεησαν οι σοφιςαι.

Φίλεησε σεμνός ανής,
Το τεκνον το Σωφρονίσκο,

Σοφίης πατηρ απασης.

Affection now has fled from earth,
Nor fire of genius, light of birth,
Nor heavenly virtue, can beguile

From beauty's cheek one favouring smile.

Τι δ'ανευ γενοιτ' Έρωτος ;
Ακόνη μεν εςι ψυχής.
Πτερύγεσσιν εις Ολυμπον

Κατακειμενος αναιρεί.
Βραδιας τετηγμενοισι
Βελεεσις εξαγειρει

Πυρι λαμπαδος φαεινω
Ρυπαρώτερος καθαίρει.
Φιλέωμεν εν ὙΕΤΤΕ,

Φιλεώμεν ω έταιρε.

Αδικως δε λοιδορεντι

Αγιος ερωτας ημών
Κακον εύξομαι το μενον
Ίνα μη δύναιτ' εκείνος

Φιλέειν τε και φιλεισθαι.

* This line is borrowed from an epigram by Alpheus of

Mitylene.

ψυχης εςιν Ερως ακονη.

Menage, I think, says somewhere, that he was the first who produced this epigram to the world.

Gold is the woman's only theme,
Gold is the woman's only dream.
Oh! never be that wretch forgiven—
Forgive him not, indignant heaven!

TO PETER DANIEL HUETT

Thou! of tuneful bards the first,
Thou! by all the graces nurst;
Friend! each other friend above,
Come with me, and learn to love.
Loving is a simple lore,
Graver men have learn'd before;
Nay, the boast of former ages,
Wisest of the wisest sages,
Sophroniscus' prudent son,
Was by love's illusion won.
Oh! how heavy life would move,
If he knew not how to love!
Love's a whetstone to the mind;
Thus 't is pointed, thus refin'd.
When the soul dejected lies,
Love can waft it to the skies;