PARODIES ON ROMEO'S DESCRIPTION OF AN APOTHECARY. BY SAMUEL EWING. I Do remember an old bachelor And hereabouts he dwells-whom late I noted Conning his books; and meagre were his looks.— And in his silent parlour hung a cloak The which the moths had used not less than he ! Were each a Heaven, compared with such a life.- As I remember this should be the house; I Do remember a precise old maid— An old work-basket, sal-volatile, Portraits of maiden aunts, in ball-room suit, With lamb or lap dog hanging on their arms, "Law's Serious Call to unconverted folks," Love elegies, a Bible, and a cat, Were duly ranged, for ornament or use, As spleen prevailed or visiters came in. List'ning, as through the house her shrill voice screamed, Scolding the servants, to myself I said, An if a man did wish to gain a wife, With show of courtship, here's an ancient maid, Following as quick as echo to the sound! And this same thought does but forerun my need. DEATH OF ANACREON. ANONYMOUS. REMOTE from the intrigues of the court, and unruffled by the din of contention, our days were joyful and serene, like those which nurture the beautiful Halcyon. Enjoying the uninterrupted society of a friend whom I esteemed, and a wife whom I loved, the gods had left me nothing to wish. When I reflected upon the happiness which this intercourse produced, I could not but acknowledge the source of it. "How sweet to the soul of man," would I exclaim, "is the society of a beloved wife! when, wearied and broken down by the labours of the day, her endearments soothe, her tender cares restore him. The solicitudes and anxieties, and heavier misfortunes of life, are hardly to be borne by him who has the weight of business and domestic vexations to contend with. But how much lighter do they seem, when, after his necessary avocations are over, he returns to his home and finds there a partner of all his griefs and troubles, who takes, for his sake, her share of domestic labour upon her, and soothes the anguish of his soul by her comfort and participation. By the immortal gods! a wife is not, as she is falsely represented by some, a burthen or a sorrow to man. No, she shares his burthens and alleviates his sorrows. For there is no toil nor difficulty so insupportable in life, but it may be surmounted by the mutual efforts and the affectionate concord of that holy partnership." After we had been settled a short time in our new abode, Anacreon resolved to send an invitation to Lesbos for Sappho. Among others the following ode, in which he described the simplicity of our fare and the warmth of his affection, was composed upon this occasion: TO SAPPHO. A BROKEN cake, with honey sweet, But it was not reserved for him again to enjoy the society of this lovely woman, whose genius was only equalled by her misfortunes. Before the courier had departed, I received information from one of my friends at Mytilene, that Sappho had terminated her life and her sufferings by precipitating herself into the sea from the summit of a mountain in Leucadia. The following fragment of an ode was found on the shore: From dread Leucadia's frowning steep, The mournful intelligence was unfortunately communicated to Anacreon, while he was engaged at a banquet with a few of his former friends. The sudden dismay which this unexpected information occasioned was such that he did not observe a grape-stone which was floating in his wine. He was choked by the contents of the cup, and the melancholy consequences were soon too visible in his countenance. I ran to succour him; but with a smile that bespoke the feeble exertions of nature, he signified that it was too late. I gave him a cup of wine in hopes of relieving him. He took it from me, and, as he held it in his hand, he gave me this ode, in which he announced his departure from us in a strain of prophetic inspiration which resembles the plaintive notes of the expiring swan : All the flowers of life decay. To tdi bod Abar ea Withering age begins to trace 4 bas theid Dreary is the thought of dying! neat Bogojno Pluto's is a dark abode, Sad the journey, sad the road: bisiqar And, the gloomy travel o'er, Ah! we can return no more!od van brid He then poured out a libation to the Eumenides, the inexorable ministers of the vengeance of Pluto, and having thus endeavoured to appease their fury, he sunk upon his couch. It was in vain that we prayed to Apollo, to whom sudden deaths are imputed. Anacreon likewise would have prayed to Mercury, to whom is confided the mournful office of conducting ghosts to the shades below; but the pangs of death were upon him and the power of utterance was denied. We sounded brazen kettles, to expel those furies which are ever on the alert to carry the unfortunate to places of torment. We crowded around his couch, that we might hear his dying words; we kissed him and endeavoured to imbibe his latest breath into our mouths. |