ANACREONTIC ODES TO THE TETTIX. XUl 



yet was different from the ordinary Cicadas, unless the 

 Greeks shut the males and the females in cages, like 

 turtle-doves, to note their amatory manners," &c. The 

 argument would seem to be, either that the Cercops 

 was the female of the Cicada, or that both were 

 musical, like all the other animals he names. 



Several elegant Greek poems are extant, often 

 erroneously ascribed to Anacreon, who flourished 

 about 532 b. c. These are so playfully expressed that 

 they have found exponents, by translations into Latin 

 and English by several modern scholars. In the 'Antho- 

 logia Oxoniensis' (p. 150) there is an Anacreontic ode 

 to the Tettix, beginning Maxapi<fcMEv a-s rerTil, which may 

 thus be translated into English : — 



We bless thee, Tettix ! for, seated on the tree-tops sipping the dew, 

 thou singest Hke a king. Thine are all simple things, and sufficient to 

 thee are rural glades. All ripe fruits are brought thee. Thou art the 

 shepherd's friend, and thou doest ill to none. sweetest of summer 

 projjhets ! honoured by mortals, thou art cherished by the Muses. 

 Phoebus himself loves thee, and gave thee thy shrill song. Old age 

 touches thee not. AVise child of the soil, lover of song, painless and 

 Heshless, almost thou dost attain to the Gods ! 



Another ode to the Tettix, by Meleager, occurs in 

 Edward's selection of ' Greek Anthology,' No. 178. 

 Through the kindness of my deceased friend Mr. W. 

 Allingham, I am permitted to print his elegantly ren- 

 dered translation of this ode. The original Greek of 

 this, and of some other classic poems, is placed in the 

 Appendix, for the use of those scholars who delight in 

 the original words of the old writers : — 



" O Tettix ! drunk with drops of dew, 

 What musician equals you 

 In the rural solitude ? 

 On a perch amidst the wood. 

 Scraping to your heart's desire 

 Dusky sides with notchy feet. 

 Shrilling, thrilling, fast and sweet. 

 Like the music of a lyre. 

 O my Tettix ! I entreat 

 Sing to the Dryads something new, 

 So, from thick embowered seat. 

 Pan himself may answer you. 

 Till every inmost glade rejoices 

 With your loud alternate voices ; 



