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 Lyrics of Horace 
 
fA 
 
THE LYRICS OF HORACE 
 

 RIVINGTONS 
 
 JLonSan mterloo P/ac. 
 
 ffirfatl BigASirea 
 
 ffiambtiSse • • ... Trinity Street 
 
THE LYRICS OF BORACE 
 
 Bone inter English ^hatn^ 
 
 By THOMAS CHARLES BARING, M.A. 
 
 (late fellow) of brasenose college, oxford 
 
 RIVINGTONS 
 IDottbon, ®xioxt>, anb (irambribge 
 
 MDCCCLXX 
 
 eV. 
 

 I'' 
 
ODES 
 
 BOOK 1 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026490668 
 
M^CENAS, son of a king]y line, 
 
 Thou guardian angel and glory mine, 
 
 There are lords of the land who for ever must 
 
 In their racing-cars gather Olympian dust, 
 
 Where the post they graze in their wheels' hot speed, 
 
 And the bliss of the gods is the winner's meed. 
 
 This man, if the changeable people's voice 
 
 Proclaim him again and again their choice. 
 
 Lives happy ; and that, if his own barn doors 
 
 Shut on all that men garner from Libyan floors. 
 
 The farmer, who tills in the joy of health 
 
 His ancestors' acres, not Attalus' wealth 
 
 Could tempt in a Cyprian barque to be 
 
 A sailor, and plough the Myrtoan sea. 
 
 Whilst the south wind battles with Icarus' waves, 
 
 The calm of his township the trader craves ; 
 
But his shattered ship he will soon repair, 
 
 For poverty nothing will teach him to bear. 
 
 Some love, over cups of old Massic wine, 
 
 To steal a few hours from the hot sunshine, 
 
 With their limbs 'neath the evergreen arbutus spread. 
 
 Or by some calm rivulet's hallowed head. 
 
 The camp, with its clarion and fife, suits best 
 
 Many more, and the battle that mothers detest. 
 
 The sportsman will sleep 'neath the wintry sky, 
 
 Nor dream of his young wife's parting sigh. 
 
 If his trusty deerhounds a stag have seen. 
 
 Or a Marsian boar through his nets has been. 
 
 My heaven i? to win me the ivy crown 
 
 That the sages wear, to the crowd unknown, 
 
 To dwell in some cool green glade, and spy 
 
 The Satyrs and Nymphs at their revels high. 
 
 If only Euterpe vouchsafe the flute. 
 
 And Polymnia grudge not the Lesbian lute : 
 
 But, if thou enroll me 'mongst bards of rhyme, 
 
 I shall strike the stars with my head sublime. 
 
2. ^0 Jlwgustus 
 
 Enough of terrible hail and snow 
 
 The Father hath sent us on earth below ; 
 
 The city has trembled to see the glow 
 
 Of the red right hand of heaven 
 Strike holy places : the peoples feared 
 That Pyrrha's age had again appeared 
 With its strange sad portents, when Proteus' herd 
 
 To the mountain-tops were driven ; 
 When the fish stuck fast in the high elm-tree, 
 Where the nest of the turtle-dove used to be ; 
 And scared, in the midst of a shoreless sea. 
 
 The hinds swam to and fro. 
 We beheld yellow Tiber, swollen with rain, 
 From his Tuscan shore hurled back amain. 
 King Numa's palace and Vesta's fane 
 
 With his waves to overthrow ; 
 
While the river-god vowed, that in spite of Jove, 
 He would vengeance take for his grieving love ; 
 And wandered the Latian bank above, 
 
 In anger at Ilia's pain. 
 Our children will hear that for civil strife. 
 And for battles at home, we have whetted the knife 
 That better had taken the Persian's life. 
 
 If children of ours remain. 
 To which of the gods shall our hapless throng 
 Appeal in its ruin ? With what new song 
 Shall her holy virgins the day prolong 
 
 To Vesta, deaf to their moan ? 
 Whom shall Jove commission to purge away 
 Our crimes? Apollo ! to thee we pray, 
 Assoilzie us, Seer with the cloud of grey 
 
 Over ivory shoulders thrown. 
 Or thou, Erycina, if thou wilt hear. 
 Whom love and laughter flit ever near ; 
 Or Mars, if at last thou wilt bend thine ear 
 
 To thy children and kinsfolk's cry ; 
 Thou art sated with too long sport in sooth, 
 Who lovest war's rattle, and helmets smooth, 
 And the Moor's keen visage that shows no ruth 
 
 Though his foeman bleeding lie. 
 
Or thou, sweet Maia's wingfed son, 
 
 If a youthful form thou wilt deign to don, 
 
 And as Csesar's avenger will tarry upon 
 
 Our earth as thy chosen home ; 
 To thy heavenward flight be a long delay. 
 Be happy and late among us thy stay, 
 From Romulus' people to bear thee away. 
 
 For our sins let no hurricane come ; 
 May glorious triumphs attend thee here. 
 Be " Prince" and " Father" thy names to bear, 
 Whilst Media's horsemen shall ride in fear 
 
 Of Csesar the lord of Rome. 
 
3- ^0 a Ship taking lirgil t0 Mhtm 
 
 So Cyprus' potent goddess, thee 
 
 Conduct, and Helen's twin star-brotheTS ; 
 So may the king of winds all others 
 
 Keep bound, but leave lapyx free ; 
 
 As thou, good ship, shalt do thy part 
 To bear thy charge to Attic ground, 
 And there deliver safe and sound 
 
 Virgil, the partner of my heart. 
 
 A heart of oak and triple mail 
 
 Were his, who first in shallop light. 
 Unheeding Afric's headstrong might, 
 
 Across the cruel sea set sail. 
 
 Nought of rough Aquilo recked he. 
 
 Nor Hyad's tears, nor Notus' anger. 
 Who, lord of safety and of danger, 
 
 Can rouse or calm the Adrian sea ; 
 
No kind of death could him affright, 
 
 Who watched, dry-eyed, the dolphins play. 
 And saw through clouds of foam and spray 
 
 Ceraunia's rocks, that awful sight ! 
 
 In vain the gods, with kind forethought. 
 Have placed, to sever land from land. 
 Broad seas, if reckless o'er the sand 
 
 Ships sail, and set their scheme at nought. 
 
 There's nothing man will not essay ; 
 No wrong forbid he dare not try : 
 Venturous Prometheus from the sky 
 
 By fraud to earth stole fire away : 
 
 When Fire had left his wonted place, 
 Disease, and Fever's ghastly band 
 Came down and settled in the land ; 
 
 And slow Necessity the pace 
 
 Quickened of Death far off before. 
 Daedalus strove to walk the air 
 On wings not given to men to wear ; 
 
 Hercules' strength burst Hades' door. 
 
 No hope 's too high for mortal breast ; 
 Our folly aims at Heaven above ; 
 Nor will our sins permit that Jove 
 
 His bolts of wrath should lay to rest. 
 
4- %o '^uduB ^zxtins 
 
 Sharp winter melts with spring's delicious birth ; 
 
 The ships gUde down on rollers to the sea ; 
 The herds forsake their stalls, the hind his hearth ; 
 
 No more with hoar-frost gleams the whitened lea. 
 Venus from Cythera the dances leads, 
 
 And hand in hand the Nymphs and Graces come, 
 And tread the moonlit sward ; while Vulcan feeds 
 
 The fires that heat the Cyclops' busy home : 
 With myrtle now 'tis time to wreathe our brows, 
 
 Or flowers up-springing from the earth let loose. 
 And in the shady grove to pay our vows 
 
 With lamb or kid, whichever Faunus choose. 
 Pale Death alike knocks at the poor man's house 
 
 And the king's palace. Happy Sextius ! few 
 And brief the hopes our little day allows ; 
 
 Dark Night brings on apace the shadowy crew 
 
Of Pluto's dismal reign ; once thou art there, 
 The mastership of toasts thou ne'er wilt get. 
 
 Nor look on Lycidas, whose beauty rare 
 
 Now the young men, and soon the girls will pet. 
 
What slim youth dripping with perfume, 
 In pleasant grot where roses bloom, 
 Woos Pyrrha now to love ? For whom 
 
 Bind'st thou thy auburn hair 
 In simple loveliness ? Ah! me, 
 False gods, faith broken, speedily 
 He'll mourn, black winds and stormy sea. 
 
 Who does not look to bear. 
 He now takes all thy coin for gold; 
 He hopes thy whim for aye to hold ; 
 Nor dreams of being in the cold. 
 
 Oh ! how I pity all 
 Who know not thy false glitter; I, 
 From shipwreck saved, in memory, 
 A. picture and my clothes to dry 
 
 Have hung on Neptune's wall. 
 
13 
 
 6. ^0 ;^gnpp!J 
 
 In verses Homeric, Agrippa, thy story 
 
 Of conquest let Varius tell : how with thee 
 For leader our spldiers have won deathless glory, 
 
 Where'er they have battled, by land and by sea. 
 I dare not attempt such a subject as this is, 
 
 Nor sing of Achilles' invincible ire, 
 Nor the weary sea-travel of cunning Ulysses, 
 
 Nor the offspring of Pelops, as fierce as their sire. 
 My muse is too peaceful, and shyly recoiling, 
 
 Shuns aims too exalted for her slender powers, 
 Lest her talents be only successful in spoiling 
 
 The praise of illustrious Csesar, and yours. 
 What poet can fitly the infinite praises 
 
 Of Mars, with his adamant tunic, indite ? 
 Or of Merion, black with the dust that he raises ? 
 
 Or Diomed, rivalling gods in the fight 
 
14 
 
 By the help of Minerva ? The igirls' mimic battle, 
 
 When, wroth with their swains, they make ready their — nails; 
 
 And the joys of the banquet, are themes for my prattle, 
 Where, free or hard hit, frolic always prevails. 
 
IS 
 
 7- ^0 ittttitatius f lancttB 
 
 Bright Rhodes, Mitylene, and Ephesus others shall sing, 
 
 Or Corinth, the queen of two seas ; 
 Or Thebes, dear to Bacchus, or Tempe's Thessalian spring, 
 
 Or the shrine of Apollo's decrees. 
 Some needs must in sonnets incessantly chant the renown 
 
 Of immaculate Pallas's home, 
 And gather fresh leaflets to twine in her olive crown. 
 
 In honour of Juno some 
 The horses of Argos, and wealth of Mycenae praise. 
 
 Me not Lacedemon can please. 
 Nor the fertile meads that the flocks of Larissa graze, 
 
 As well as the darkling trees 
 Of Tiber, and Anio's falls, and the orchards that lie 
 
 Round noisy Albunea's spring. 
 Not seldom the south-wind sweepeth the clouds from the sky. 
 
 And her rain-drops refuseth to bring 
 
i6 
 
 To the birth. So, Plancus, be wise, and in wine wash away 
 
 The sorrows of lifelong toil : 
 Whether still in the camp, 'midst the gleam of gay pennons, thou stay, 
 
 Or repair to the thick-wooded soil 
 Of thy own native Tibur. When Teucer from Salamis fled. 
 
 And his father's implacable breast, 
 A chaplet of poplar he twined round his temples, 'tis said. 
 
 And thus his sad comrades addressed : 
 " Where'er Fate may lead us, more gentle than fatherly pride. 
 
 Companions and friends, we will go : 
 Despair then of nothing, with Teucer for augur and guide ; 
 
 For the god of the ivory bow 
 A new Salamis in a new country has promised to. rear : 
 
 Brave men, who through worse floods of sorrow 
 Have waded with me, with the wine cup to-day banish care ; 
 
 We will plough the wide ocean to-morrow." 
 
37 
 
 8. ^0 ^Bi5ia 
 
 By all the gods pray, Lydia ! say, 
 Why Sybaris you haste to slay 
 With love ? Why field-sports bid him shun, 
 Who should rejoice in dust and sun, 
 A soldier 'midst his peers should ride, 
 And tame the Gallic charger's pride 
 With rein and curb ; yet fears to lave 
 His body in red Tiber's wave, 
 And dreads sweet olive oil as much 
 As if it were a viper's touch ? 
 ly^i*^ His arms have ne'er been tramed to war, 
 I^Ne'er thrown the quoit or javelin far. 
 Hides he like sea-born Thetis' son, 
 Ere Troy by tearful siege was won, 
 Lest manly pastimes on him bring 
 Death from the hordes of Lycia's king ? 
 
9- ^0 ^haliarrhws 
 
 Don't you see how Soracte gleams white with deep snow ? 
 
 How the labouring woods cannot bear 
 Its weight ? and the rivers no longer can flow 
 
 For the frost that is keen in the air ? 
 Come, toast-master, thaw us the cold ; bid them bring 
 
 Bigger logs to pile up on the fire ; 
 And fill with good liquor that's seen its fourth spring 
 
 Yonder jug that we Sabines admire. 
 Leave the rest to the gods ; they have hushed with a word 
 
 The winds, that were fighting the deep 
 Till it seethed in its wrath ; not a cypress is stirred, 
 
 And the ash-trees have trembled to sleep. 
 Never trouble thy head what the morrow may prove, 
 
 Make the most of each day as it flies. 
 'Twere a pity that boyhood the pleasures of love 
 
 And the joy of the dance should despise. 
 
19 
 
 Grey hairs with their crotchets will soon be thine own ; 
 
 Whilst young, let the field and the lists 
 Be thy joy, and the murmurs in soft undertone 
 
 At the carefiilly-planned twilight trysts ; 
 And the clear-ringing laugh, from a corner just near. 
 
 That thy sweetheart in hiding betrays, 
 And the gage deftly snatched from an arm that is dear, 
 
 Or a finger that coyly delays. 
 
Hail ! Mercuiy ! from Atlas sprung, 
 Who erst, when man was wild and young. 
 Good manners taught'st with fluent tongue, 
 
 And true athletic style. 
 Thee, Jove's ambassador, I sing : 
 Thee, father of the Cittern's string ; 
 Who, if thou wilt, canst anything 
 
 Abstract with thievish guile. 
 In boyhood, when Apollo swore 
 The stolen beeves thou should'st restore. 
 Thou took'st his quiver ; he, before 
 
 He smote, was forced to smile. 
 Rich Priam too, with thee for guide. 
 In safety mocked th' Atrides' pride. 
 And 'midst the blazing watch-fires hied 
 
 Of Troy's relentless foe. 
 
The pious dead with golden rod 
 Thou usher'st to their blest abode ; 
 As welcome to each upper god 
 As to the gods below. 
 
Ask not, 'tis not right to know it, what last end for thee and me 
 
 Heaven has set, nor Babylonian numbers try, Leuconoe : 
 
 Better, whate'er comes, to bear it ; whether many winters more , 
 
 We shall see, or this our last be, which along th' Etruscan shore 
 
 Hurls the waves in spray to perish on the shifting shingly beach. 
 
 If thou'rt wise thou'lt quaff, and quickly grasp the hopes within thy reach. 
 
 Even now, whilst we are talking, grudging time pursues his flight : 
 
 Use to-day, and trust as little as thou may'st to-morrow's light. 
 
23 
 
 12. <^o Augustus 
 
 Which of the gods, or men, or heroes, say, 
 Does Cho choose to celebrate to-day, 
 With lyre or flute, till Echo in her play 
 
 Repeat his name 
 Mid Helicon's green consecrated bowers. 
 On Pindus heights, or where cold Hsemus towers, 
 Whence headlong groves, drawn by his lute's sweet powers, 
 
 To Orpheus came? 
 Who by his mother's art the running rill 
 Could stay in mid career^ w'dd winds could still, 
 And bade oaks listen to his dulcet quill, 
 
 And with him go. 
 Whom rather should my song extol than thee, 
 Father of all, who rul'st with just decree 
 The world of gods and men, of earth and sea. 
 
 The seasons thro' ? 
 
24 
 
 Greater than Thee is none ; and none thy peer : 
 Nor second rank to claim can any dare. 
 Yet, Pallas, thou in eminence most near 
 
 Thy father art. 
 Next Liber claims my homage, bold in fight ; 
 And Dian, virgin huntress, queen of night ; 
 And Phoebus, skilled to aim for fatal flight 
 
 Th' unerring dart. 
 Alcides too I'll sing : and Leda's twins ; 
 One in the race, and one in wrestle, wins 
 Renown ; and when their kindly star begins 
 
 Its light to shed. 
 The sea-foam from the rocks drops suddenly, 
 The winds are hushed, the clouds disperse and flee ; 
 And, for 'tis their command, the angry sea 
 
 Is quieted. 
 If Romulus come next, sweet Muse, decide. 
 Or Numa's quiet reign, or Tarquin's pride ; 
 Or how in scorn of baseness Cato died 
 
 A noble death. 
 Regulus, and the Scauri, and the day 
 When Paulus worsted cast his life away ; 
 Fabricius too deserves the grateful lay 
 
 For stainless faith. 
 
25 
 
 He, and Camillus, unkempt Curius too, 
 Heroes of many a fight, to manhood grew 
 In straitest poverty : acres but few 
 
 Were theirs to own. 
 Marcelhis' fame grows like a sapling strong, 
 Slowly but surely : all the rest among 
 Shines Julius, moon-like 'midst the starry throng 
 
 Less glorious grown. 
 Great Saturn's son ! guardian and sire divine 
 Of all mankind, to thee the Fates assign 
 The care of Caesar ; only less than thine 
 
 Be Caesar's sway. 
 He, — whether he repel with conquest's sword 
 The Parthians threat'ning Rome, or force each horde 
 Of Tartary and Ind to hail him lord, — 
 
 With upright sway 
 Shall rule broad earth, less great than none but Jove ; 
 While thy dread car Olympus' crest above 
 Shall shake ; and fierce through each polluted grove 
 
 Thy lightnings play. 
 
26 
 
 13- ^cr Itgbia 
 
 Ah ! Lydia ! when you praise 
 Telephus' rosy neck or wax-white arm, 
 
 The angry bile you raise, 
 That works my poor old liver so much harm. 
 
 My mind then spurns control, 
 My colour comes and goes ; adown my cheek 
 
 Salt tears unbidden roll. 
 And of slow fires that waste my vitals speak. 
 
 I burn, if the mad youth 
 In shameless quarrel on your neck upset 
 
 His wine, or if his tooth 
 I^eave on your lip a mark you can't forget. 
 
 If you would list to me, 
 Not long you'd bear one, who your dainty lips 
 
 Entreats so cruelly. 
 Which Venus with her own sweet nectar tips. 
 
27 
 
 Happy, thrice happy, they 
 Whose mutual plaints ne'er break their mutual bond ; 
 
 Whose leash wears not away. 
 Who living longer ever grow more fond. 
 
28 
 
 14. ^n Mltqox^ 
 
 Old ship, once more to sea wilt turn thy pro\y 
 Across fresh waves ? Be bold ! and stay ashore ! 
 
 What dost thou ? Seest not how 
 
 Thy side has ne'er an oar ? 
 Thy masts and yards groan with the wounds they hide 
 Dealt by the swift south wind : thy cordage gone, 
 
 Thy keel could not abide 
 
 Rough ocean angry grown. 
 The mocking stars through thy rent canvas shine : 
 Thou hast no gods in strait to do thee good : 
 
 Though, once a Pontic pine, 
 
 Child of a famous wood. 
 High lineage thou canst boast, and bootless fame. 
 The cautious sailor trusts no painted helm. 
 
 Beware ! lest thou make game 
 
 For sportive winds to whelm. 
 
29 
 
 How wearily I loved thee once ! and yet 
 
 Thy memories haunt me sadly ! Shun the seas, 
 
 That never-ceasing fret, 
 
 Round the bright Cyclades. 
 
30 
 
 IS- l^hc Marning 
 
 When the shepherd forsworn in his swift ship was leading 
 
 Fair Helen, his hostess, home over the brine, 
 The old prophet of ocean, with calm superseding 
 
 The favouring breeze, sang in accents malign, 
 " Woe ! woe ! for the hour, to the home of thy father 
 
 That brings as thy bride, thou effeminate boy, 
 One whom Greece to reclaim all her armies will gather ; 
 
 And sever thy nuptials, and ruin old Troy. 
 Alas ! how the footmen and horses are sweating ! 
 
 What countless deaths Dardanus' people must know ! 
 See ! Pallas her helmet and segis is getting. 
 
 Her chariot is ready, and dreadful her brow ! 
 In vain, in the favour of Venus confiding, 
 
 Thou'lt comb thy long hair, and th' antiphonal strain 
 Of song with the women rejoice in dividing. 
 
 And shun the reed-arrows of Gnossus in vain ; 
 
31 
 
 And the noise of the spearmen so harsh to a lover, 
 
 And Ajax pursuing, so matchless in speed ; 
 For at last, though too late, with foul dust thou must cover 
 
 The ringlets that deck thy adulterous head. 
 Dost not see ? how the wise Laertiades' -anger 
 
 Bodes death to thy race? how old Nestor is there? 
 With Teucer from Salamis, heedless of danger. 
 
 And Sthenelus mighty the combat to dare ? 
 No coward is he when wild steeds need the breaking. 
 
 'Mid the press thou wilt recognize Merion too : 
 Just look how Tydides in fury is seeking 
 
 The sheen of thy helmet the ranks through and through. 
 But thou — as a stag, when he sees the wolf's shadow 
 
 Loom dark on the furthermost side of the glen. 
 With one deep gasp of fear quits the sweets of the meadow- 
 Wilt, in spite of thy boasts, flee the presence ot men. 
 And though to thy city, and each Trojan mother, 
 
 Short respite be given by Achilles' mad ire ; 
 When the decade of winters is past, ne'er another 
 
 Shall Ilium be saved from her enemy's fire." 
 
32 
 
 i6. ^n Jlpolcrgs to '^T^nh&xxs 
 
 O DAUGHTER, fairer than thy mother fair, 
 Those naughty lines of mine, I pray thee, tear. 
 And burn, or to the Adrian sea 
 Commit ; 'tis all the same to me. 
 Not Dindymene, nor the mystic guest 
 Who shakes the Pythian prophet's labouring breast, 
 Nor Bacchus, nor the cymbals loud 
 That nerve the Corybantian crowd, 
 Can with man's anger vie ; that sets at nought 
 The sword of war, the sea with shipwreck fraught, 
 And levin's bolt, — that even Jove 
 With all his terrors fails to move. 
 When first Prometheus formed his man of clay. 
 From every beast he was obliged, they say. 
 To take a part ; and, for our woes, 
 The lion's angry temper chose. 
 
33 
 
 'Twas anger brought Thyestes to the dust; 
 
 For anger's sake once-mighty cities must 
 
 Be razed, till foemen plough the land 
 Where frowning walls were wont to stand. 
 
 Rein in thy temper. I, when I was young, 
 
 Gave too much license to a wayward tongue ; 
 And bade it, ill advised, rehearse 
 My bitter thoughts in burning verse. 
 
 But now I would pursue a gentler way. 
 
 And all my virulent abuse unsay ; 
 
 If thou once more wilt friendly be. 
 And so restore my life to me. 
 
34 
 
 17- ^0 l^gnbaris 
 
 From Arcady often with nimble feet 
 Kind Faunus resorts to Lucretilis' bowers 
 To guard my flocks from scorching heat, 
 From the withering winds, and the chilly showers. 
 In safety the arbutus' lowly tops. 
 And the thyme that fringes the tangled brake, 
 My he-goats' wandering harem crops, 
 Nor dreads for a moment the green-speckled snake : 
 My young kids sport by the grey wolf's lair; 
 With the pipe's soft music the vales abound 
 And low Ustica's meadows fair, 
 And her water worn rocks, with the melody sound. 
 The gods are my guardians : they love my song. 
 And my simple devotion. Ah ! Tyndaris dear. 
 Here plenty waits thy coming long, 
 With her horn brimming over with country cheer. 
 
35 
 
 In the sheltering valley thou'lt 'scape the heat 
 Of the dog-star, and, sweeping Anacreon's string, 
 The tale of Circe's charms repeat 
 With Penelope striving for Ithaca's king. 
 
 The blood of the Lesbian grape we'll pour 
 In the flashing bowl 'neath the elm-tree's shade, 
 While Mars with Bacchus strives no more : 
 And jealous young Cyrus thou ceasest to dread, 
 Whose impudent hand of the deference due 
 To thy womanly weakness little recks. 
 But rends thy robe of snowy hue. 
 And snatches the garland thy tresses that decks. 
 
36 
 
 'MoNGST the trees the hallowed grape-vine thou must plant the first of all 
 
 Round the kindly slopes of Tibur, and by old Catilius' wall. 
 
 Varus ! all life's ills and sorrows Fate doth on the sober lay ; 
 
 Nor without the wings of liquor passeth carking care away. 
 
 Who can rail at empty purses, or war's toils, where wine flows free ? 
 
 Who not Father Bacchus' praises sing, or lovely Venus, thee ? 
 
 Still the need of moderation o'er the wassail, from the bout, 
 
 May be learned, betwixt the Centaurs and the Lapiths fought out. 
 
 Or the wrath that on Sithonia from indignant Evius fell ; 
 
 Lest, insatiate of pleasure, men confound the ill and well, 
 
 Leaping o'er their narrow boundary. White-robed Bassareus, not I 
 
 Will provoke thee past endurance, nor thy wreathed ark will try 
 
 To invade. Then Berecynthian trump and cymbals on the shelf 
 
 Keep, I pray, whose maddening tumult rouses the blind love of self; 
 
 When Conceit her brainless forehead lifts on high with solemn air, 
 
 And the secrets in her keeping like a mirror Trust lays bare. 
 
37 
 
 19- %o ^Igcera 
 
 The Mother of Desire, 
 And the wild son of Theban Semele, 
 
 With wanton Cupid's fire, 
 Kindle the ashes of quenched love in me. 
 
 For Glycera I burn. 
 Who shines more pure than Paros' marble white, 
 
 With grace in every turn. 
 And face too dazzling fair for mortal sight. 
 
 Venus with all her force 
 For me has Cyprus left, nor lets me sing 
 
 The Parthians' flying horse, 
 Nor Scythia's wilds, nor any other thing. 
 
 So hither bring live peat 
 And vervain, boys, and frankincense, and wine 
 
 Of two years old, 'tis meet 
 With sacrifice to court one so divine. 
 
38 
 
 2o. %o M-^czxt^s 
 
 MAECENAS, dearest of knights, to-day 
 Poor Sabine wine from a homely flask 
 Thou must drink, that, myself, in an old Greek cask 
 I corked and buried away, 
 On the day when the theatre cheered amain. 
 Till, the banks of thy home-river echoed the sound; 
 And the playful Nymphs of the Vatican ground 
 Repeated it over again. 
 The vintage of Csecubum thou may'st sup, 
 And the grape that the presses of Cales fills, 
 But the wine of Falernan and Formian hills 
 Never glows in my humble cup. 
 
39 
 
 21- ^n Inc-antntxon 
 
 Ye tender maids, exalt Diana's fame ! 
 
 Beardless Apollo's might, ye youths, proclaim I 
 Latona both at once to praise unite, 
 Beloved of Jove through every changing mood ! 
 
 Her glories sing, ye maids, who dearly loves 
 
 The purling streamlets, and the darkling groves 
 Of Erymanthus, and the breezy height 
 Of Algidus, and Cragus' verdant wood. 
 
 By you, ye boys, with equal laud be sung 
 
 Tempe's cool vale, and Delos' isle, where sprung 
 The god of verse, whose ivory shoulder wears 
 The quiver and the lyre his brother gave. 
 
 May he the griefs of death, and plague, and war, 
 
 To Britain, and to Persia, banish far ! 
 
 And from all harm, responsive to your prayers, 
 Rome, and Rome's Caesar, condescend to save ! 
 
4° 
 
 22. %a J^ritsiue Juscus 
 
 The man of life upright and purpose pure 
 Wants not the bow and javelins of the Moor, 
 Fuscus, nor needs a quiverful to bear 
 Of arrows wetted in the poison-bowl ; 
 Where'er his journey be, or o'er the sands 
 Of foaming Syrtis, or across the lands 
 Of stranger-hating Caucasus, or where 
 Hydaspes' legendary waters roll. 
 For late, as wandering in the Sabine wood 
 Beyond my wonted bounds, in careless mood, 
 I praised my Lalage in tuneful verse, 
 A wolf before my unarmed presence fled ! 
 'Twas such a brute as woodman ne'er, I ween. 
 In warlike Dannia's broad oak-glades has seen ; 
 Nor even Juba's country breeds, a nurse 
 Who suckles lions in her sandy bed. 
 
41 
 
 Place me amidst the sluggish ice-fields, where 
 
 Never a tree enjoys the summer air, 
 
 That side the world where clouds eternal rove, 
 And nought save angry weather Jove affords ; 
 
 Place me where Phoebus' car is all too near, 
 
 Where man has never dared his tent to rear ; 
 Yet never, never, will I cease to love 
 My Lalage's sweet smile and sweeter words. 
 
42 
 
 23- "gEo Orhloe 
 
 Like a fawn that seeks the hind, 
 
 Dreading in the pathless forest 
 Every bush, and every wind, 
 
 Chloe ! thou my sight abhorrest. 
 She, if 'mongst the swaying trees 
 
 Early Spring's first zephyrs ramble. 
 Shakes all over, heart and knees ; 
 
 Or if lizards stir the bramble. 
 Yet, thy tender bones to break 
 
 I no tiger am, or lion ; 
 'Tis full time ; a husband take ; 
 
 Cease thy mother to rely on. 
 
43 
 
 24. %o lirgil 
 
 No shame shall check my uttering to the lyre 
 
 My grief for one so dear. Teach me to raise 
 The dirge, Melpomene, to whom thy sire 
 
 Gave the soft notes that suit with sorrow's lays ! 
 And so Quinctilius sleeps the last long sleep ! 
 
 Virtue and Justice, with their sisters twain. 
 Pure Faith and Truth unshamed, above him weep. 
 
 When shall they look upon his like again ? 
 'Midst floods of good men's tears his sun has set. 
 
 Than thou, my Virgil, none can mourn him more. 
 But prayers are useless : to thy fond regret. 
 
 What they have ta'en, the gods will not restore. 
 Even should'st thou sweep the chords with sweeter skill 
 
 Than Thracian Orpheus, whom the groves obeyed. 
 Thy friend's pale form the blood would ne'er refill, 
 
 Since once, with awful wand, his trembling shade 
 
44 
 
 Jove's messenger to that dark fold has driven, 
 Whence no entreaties egress can procure : 
 
 'Tis hard ; but low before the will of heaven 
 To bow, makes lighter ills we cannot cure. 
 
45 
 
 2|5. %o l^gtiia 
 
 'Tis seldom your shutters now shake with the rap 
 Of disconsolate gallants' importunate tap ; 
 In peace you can finish your evening nap, 
 
 And your stiff door loves to keep 
 Its threshold, thai once was so ready to move 
 On its hinges, and rarer the tender words prove, 
 " Whilst I through the long night am dying, my love, 
 
 My Lydia ! canst thou sleep ?" 
 'Twill be your turn to weep at your lovers' rough tone, 
 When they leave you to pace the blind alley alone, 
 While fierce as the storms that, when moonlight is gone. 
 
 From Thracian mountains blow, 
 The throb of wild passion and lust shall be found. 
 Such as drives the brutes mad, through your pulses to bound. 
 And shall riot your rotten old liver around ; 
 
 And you wail in the depth of woe. 
 
46 
 
 That the youngsters prefer their gay tresses to bind 
 With greep sprigs of myrtle and ivy entwined, 
 And the withered brown leaves to the chilly east wind, 
 That comes with the winter, throw. 
 
47 
 
 26. ^0 %zUu& l^amia 
 
 The Muse is my friend ; so all tearful care 
 
 I'll give to the wanton winds to bear, 
 
 And to drown in the waves of the Cretan sea : 
 
 What scares Tiridates is nothing to me ; 
 
 Who lords it alone o'er the Arctic snow 
 
 I care not. Pimplea, who lovest the flow 
 
 Of nature's own fountains, a chaplet prepare 
 
 Of the sunniest flowers for my Lamia's hair. 
 
 Unaided by thee all my honours are vain : 
 
 I beseech thee, kind nymph, and thy sisters twain, 
 
 On one who so fully deserves them bestow 
 
 Sweet melodies fresh from the Lesbian bow. 
 
48 
 
 27. M a ^Banquet 
 
 Mirth and good fellowship is the design 
 
 Of goblets ; only barbarous Thracian folk 
 Fight with their cups : be quiet ! nor provoke 
 
 With bloody brawls the modest god of wine. 
 
 How wide the discord 'twixt the Median sword 
 And mellow lamplight, that illumes the joys 
 Of brimming bowls ! hush friends this horrid noise, 
 
 And sit ye down at peace around the board. 
 
 I in your potent draughts will bear my part, 
 While Locrian Megilla's brother tells 
 With what sweet wound his happy bosom swells, 
 
 And whose the eyes that sped the fatal dart. 
 
 He hesitates? Then I refuse to drink. 
 Nay ! whosoever be the lucky fair, 
 You need not blush to own the chains you wear. 
 
 From any low intrigue I know you'd shrink : 
 
49 
 
 Out with your secret ! Come ! just whisper low ! 
 
 My ears will keep it safe. Oh ! wretched boy ! 
 
 Worthy a better love ! are you her toy ? 
 In what a whirlpool are you struggling now ! 
 Lives there a sorceress, a wizard, who 
 
 With Thessaly's herb-drugs can set you free ? 
 
 Can any god redeem ? From such a she 
 Scarce Pegasus himself could rescue you. 
 
5° 
 
 28. j^rthgtag 
 
 Thou nieasur'dst the land, and the countless sand, and the sea ; 
 
 Yet the gift of a handful of earth 
 On the shingly shore of Matinus is wanting to thee. 
 
 Archytas ! say, was it worth 
 Thy while to have traversed in thought all the paths of the air 
 
 To the uttermost pole, and to die ? 
 Why Tantalus ate with the gods, and is dead : and there 
 
 Tithonus is even as I : 
 And Minos, who knew Jove's secrets. Euphorbus once more 
 
 To the shadowy land is gone : 
 Though his shield bore witness of Trojan days, and he swore 
 
 That nothing but skin and bone 
 He had yielded to ravenous death. Yet I know you call 
 
 Pythagoras no mean judge 
 Of Nature and Truth. The same night waits for us all ; 
 
 Death's path we must all of us trudge. 
 
51 
 
 By the Furies some, for the pleasure of Mars, are slain : 
 
 The sailors go down in the sea : 
 And old men and young must perish together : the reign 
 
 Of Proserpine none can flee. 
 The south wind, that comes with Orion's westering star, 
 
 Whelmed me in lUyria's wave. 
 Then grudge not a handful of shifting sand, kind tar, 
 
 To a corpse that has never a grave ! 
 Do this, and, albeit in wrath o'er the western sea 
 
 The east wind bluster and blow. 
 Its fury shall fall on Venusia's woods, not thee ; 
 
 And rivers of gold shall flow 
 From bountiful Jove, and Neptune who beareth sway 
 
 Over holy Tarentum. Refuse 
 My prayer — the neglect thy innocent children shall pay; 
 
 Perchance its terrible dues 
 Shall be paid by thyself I will not put up with the wrong ; 
 
 No blood such a sin shall atone. 
 Be thou never so hurried, just sprinkle, it won't take long, 
 
 The dust on me thrice, and begone. 
 
52 
 
 29. ^0 Iccins 
 
 Iccius, you envy Araby the blest 
 Her wealth, and plan a merciless campaign. 
 To humble Saba's haughty crest, 
 And weave the links of conquest's chain 
 For the rude Mede. Must some barbaric fair. 
 Her lover slaughtered, stoop to be your slave ? 
 Some noble boy with essenced hair 
 To fill your goblet must you have, 
 Who Chinese arrows to his father's bow 
 Fits deftly now ? Henceforth let none deny 
 That rivers up the hills can flow. 
 Or Tiber at his mouth run dry, 
 Since you Panastius' works, and all the range 
 Of rare Socratic lore, you used to buy. 
 
 For Spanish coats of mail can change, 
 Who promised nobler paths to try. 
 
53 
 
 30. %0 l£n«0 
 
 Leave Cyprus awhile that thou lovest, and come, 
 Sweet Venus, of Gnidos and Paphos the queen. 
 Where the smoke of rich incense inviting is seen. 
 
 To Glycera's beautiful home. 
 
 Bring thy warm-hearted boy, and the jovial crew 
 Of the Muses and Graces with white bosoms bare. 
 Bid the goddess of youth, whom thy presence makes fair, 
 
 And Mercury come with thee too. 
 
54 
 
 31. %0 ^Ipollo 
 
 What gift, at his fresh dedicated shrine, 
 
 Shall the poet beg at Apollo's hand, 
 As he pours from his saucer the new made wine ? 
 
 The crops of Sardinia's fruitful land ? 
 The herds hot Calabria loves to raise ? 
 
 Far India's gold and her ivory ? 
 Ah ! no ! nor the meadows, where Liris strays 
 
 A silent stream through the silent lea. 
 Let the lord of the vineyard ingather again 
 
 The bunches luxuriant Cales bears : 
 Let the prosperous trader from gold cups drain 
 
 The wine he has bought with his Syrian wares ; 
 He is dear to the gods ; many times he'll dare 
 
 In a year with Atlantic waves to fight. 
 And be safe. Be the olives my simple fare. 
 
 With crisp curled endive, and mallow light. 
 
55 
 
 The strength to enjoy what I have to me 
 Grant, Son of Latona, with health of brain ; 
 
 Content and calm let my old age be, 
 
 Nor lacking the sound of the cittern's strain. 
 
56 
 
 32. Iff ntB f pre 
 
 My lyre, we are wanted. If ever with thee 
 I have lazily toyed 'neath the shadowing tree, 
 In sonnets that yet a few years shall survive, 
 Some song in our Latin, I pray thee, contrive. 
 'Twas the poet of Lesbos first handled thy string. 
 In war so undaunted, so ready to sing, — 
 Whene'er his frail barque 'neath the sheltering lee 
 Of the shore he had moored from the ire of the sea,- 
 The Muses, and Bacchus, and Venus's pride. 
 And the fair boy so loth to be sent from her side, 
 And the beauty of Lycrrs's dark rolling eye. 
 And the hue of his curls that with ebony vie. 
 So, prythee, my shell, that art Phoebus' delight. 
 And the feasts of Olympus dost render more bright. 
 Sweet soother of labour and sorrow, afford 
 Thy help at the solemn appeal of thy lord. 
 
57 
 
 33- '^0 Mbxne ^ibuUus 
 
 TiBULLUS, restrain thy immoderate grieving 
 
 For Glycera's cruelty ; utter no more 
 Thy sad elegiacs, that one so deceiving 
 
 For a younger adorer on thee shuts her door. 
 Fair low-browed Lycoris for Cyrus is burning, 
 
 While Cyrus is doting on Pholoe stern ; 
 But sooner shall Daunian roes feel a yearning 
 
 To mate with wild wolves, than strict Pholoe turn 
 On a rake so unhandsome one glance of relenting. 
 
 It is Venus's doing, who takes savage mirth 
 Incongruous bodies and minds in cementing 
 
 In wedlock's brass bonds while they dwell upon earth. 
 When a better bride might have been had for the taking, 
 
 I was bound by the chain of the child of a slave ; 
 Though her tongue is more rough than the winds, that are breaking 
 
 On Calabria's shingles black Adria's wave. 
 
58 
 
 34. ^ €anft&8xon 
 
 Not oft nor long upon the gods I wait, 
 
 In folly's learning a full graduate : 
 
 But now my ship I am compelled to tack, 
 
 And take, perforce, at last the backward track. 
 
 For the great king of day, who used aloud 
 
 To speak in thunder from the riven cloud. 
 
 Has now his wind-winged steeds and chariot driven 
 
 In full noonday across the fleckless heaven. 
 
 The dull earth quaked; the rivers heard and fell ; 
 
 And every innermost abyss of hell, 
 
 And all the world to Afric's burning sand. 
 
 Trembled beneath its mighty sovereign's hand. 
 
 He from the highest to the lowest state 
 
 Can change ; can raise the poor, abase the great ; 
 
 Can snatch his crown from off the despot's head. 
 
 And put whoe'er it please him in his stead. 
 
59 
 
 35- ^0 Jfortutti 
 
 Great goddess ! who bearest o'er Antium sway, 
 From the deepest abysses of woe who canst brin,g 
 To happiness, or change away 
 For funeral wailings the pomp of,a king, 
 To thee the poor farmers eternally cry 
 With earnest devotion; to thee ever kneel. 
 Mistress of ocean, all who try 
 The Carpathian Sea in Bithynian keel. 
 
 The hot-blooded Dacian, and Scythia's hordes. 
 And cities, and peoples, and Latium bold. 
 And mothers of barbaric lords. 
 And tyrants who glitter in purple and gold, 
 
 Are afraid, lest thy petulant foot should upset 
 Our one pillar left, and the tongue of the mob 
 Should civil strife again beget. 
 And Rome of her hard-won dominion should rob. 
 
6o 
 
 Wherever thou goest in all the land 
 Remorseless Necessity goeth ahead, 
 
 With nails and hammer in her hand, 
 And the pitiless hook, and the molten lead. 
 Thee Hope and Honesty, now so rare, 
 White-veiled accompany, nor thy path 
 
 Forsake, when thou with mourner's air 
 From the homes of the mighty departest in wrath. 
 But the fickle crowd, like a venal love. 
 The yoke of trouble evade, and fly; 
 
 Like heartless friends, who faithless prove 
 When the wine-barrel down to the dregs is dry. 
 Now that Csesar to Britain is ready to wend, 
 The far end of the earth, v/ith his new-levied host, 
 Them and their general defend. 
 The dread of the East and the Red Sea's coast. 
 
 Woe ! woe ! for our brothers' blood, wickedly spilt, 
 And our scars unhealed ! Not a crime undared 
 Is left, no blackest depth of guilt 
 Unfathomed. What god has an altar spared 
 For fear or favour ? Oh ! would once more 
 On an anvil new thou would'st forge again 
 Our blunted swords, that foreign gore 
 Of the Arab or Scythian foe they may drain. 
 
6i 
 
 36. dDtt ^ttmiba's Coming 3§omc 
 
 With music and perfumes 
 And a slain calf we'll please the gods who keep 
 
 Our Numida, who comes 
 Safe from far Spain across the briny deep, 
 
 And many a comrade meets 
 With glad embrace, but none with greater joy 
 
 Than kindly Lamia greets. 
 Captain of school when he was still a boy, 
 
 His friend from child to man. 
 So mark the day with chalk before it dies, 
 
 And bring the biggest can 
 Of wine, we'll dance the night out Salian-wise. 
 
 Even Damalis shall own 
 That Bassus in the wassail gains the day ; 
 
 Our feast the rose shall crown, 
 And parsley bright, and short-lived Ulies gay, 
 
62 
 
 Till all begin to bend " 
 Unsteady eyes on Damalis, while she 
 
 Will clasp her new found friend, 
 Closer than ivy clasps the sturdy tree. 
 
63 
 
 37- ^o mp JcUotDS 
 
 Come, tread we the dance on the emerald sward, 
 
 Let us fill up our cups with good wine ; 
 And with Salian dainties we'll cover the board 
 
 Where the gods shall in honour recline. 
 We dared not our grandfathers' Cfficuban drain 
 
 Before, when our city and realm 
 In utter destruction, with fury insane, 
 
 Cleopatra was striving to whelm. 
 With her base coward crew of emasculate men. 
 
 She gave her ambition loose rein, 
 And was drunk with the sweets of good fortune, but when 
 
 She saw scarce one galley remain. 
 When all her proud ships in the red flames were burned. 
 
 The frenzy of Marea's wine 
 Was changed into terror unfeigned, and she turned 
 
 From Italy's shore o'er the brine. 
 
64 
 
 Like a hawk after doves, or the swift footed wight 
 
 Who on Thessaly's snow covered plains 
 Gives chase to the hare, Csesar followed her flight. 
 
 To bind the foul siren in chains. 
 But with nobler emotion, for better fate meet. 
 
 Like a man she chose rather to pay 
 For her failure with life, and refused with her fleet 
 
 To take refuge in lands far away : 
 The halls of her childhood she shrank not to see 
 
 The prey of a foreigner's grasp, 
 Nor quailed, that her life blood envenomed might be, 
 
 To fondle the poisonous asp 
 Her pride was too fierce for the slow step of Fate ; 
 
 And she scorned, for a little more space 
 Of existence, to glut the Liburnian's hate, ._, 
 
 And her conqueror's triumph to grace. 
 
6s 
 
 38. ^0 mji Skbe 
 
 Ho ! sirrah, I hate all those Persian perfumes, 
 I am weary of garlands with lime-bark bound, 
 Cease searching, I pray thee, the garden round. 
 When the last rose of summer blooms. 
 With the bough of the myrtle no other entwine 
 In thy zeal ; by itself 'tis a wreath full rare 
 For thee to offer, and me to wear 
 
 As I drink 'neath the arching vine. 
 
ODES 
 
 BOOK IT 
 
69 
 
 I. ^0 :^jsiniu0 f oUia 
 
 The civil war that from Metellus' times 
 
 Arose, its origin, and course, and crimes ; 
 
 The freaks of Fate, the chieftains' bitter feud, 
 
 Veiled 'neath pretended friendship, and the blood 
 
 That stained our arms, and still for vengeance cries, 
 
 Thou treatest, — a most risky enterprise, — 
 
 And tread' St the crust of a volcano's head. 
 
 By its own treacherous ashes overspread. 
 
 A little while the theatres must spare 
 
 Thy tragic Muse, until with needful care 
 
 This mighty task is ended, then again 
 
 In Attic buskin thou shalt wake her strain. 
 
 A trusty counsel thou to save from doom, 
 
 And great thy wisdom in the senate-room ; 
 
 Thy triumph, Pollio, in Dalmatia shed 
 
 War's never-dying laurels on thy head. 
 
7° 
 
 Even as I read, the trumpet's threatening blare 
 And the shrill clarions echo on my ear : 
 The serried spearmen's glittering array- 
 Fills knight and steed with fugitive dismay. 
 The generals' ringing orders I can hear ; 
 Can see the honourable dust they wear : 
 Till the whole conquered earth in awe is still ; 
 Save Cato's stern indomitable will. 
 Juno, and all the gods, who Carthage loved, 
 But left her shores when vain their efiforts proved. 
 Have now, in honour of Jugurtha's ghost. 
 Slaughtered the grandsons of his conqueror's host. 
 Is there a plain, that doth not witness bear. 
 In rank green grass, to Romans buried there 
 In impious combat slain, when Medes from far 
 Heard the wild havoc of Hesperian war ? 
 Is there a stream, a river, but can tell 
 Our wretched tale ? What ocean's tidal swell 
 Has not Italian gore dyed crimson-red ? 
 Where is the land where Rome no blood has shed ? 
 But stay, rash Muse, quit not thy wonted smile 
 For dirges that belong to Cea's isle ; 
 Come, seek with me Dione's cave, and there 
 Attune thy strings to some more joyous air. 
 
71 
 
 2. ^a ^allustius Crispits 
 
 The treasure of the hidden mine, 
 
 My Sallust, is no friend of thine, 
 
 Unless with proper use it shine. i 
 
 Good Proculeius' name, 
 Who to his brethren twain did give 
 A father's care, shall ever live ; 
 And history's tireless tongue shall strive 
 
 To celebrate his fame. 
 He's more a king, who can control 
 The greedy longings of his soul. 
 Than if wild tribes, from pole to pole. 
 
 Bowed to his sovereign sway. 
 Dropsies indulged are aye the worst : 
 The puffing pale and raging thirst 
 Increase ; till from the system first 
 
 The cause be driven away. 
 
72 
 
 Phraates reigns on Cyras' throne ; 
 The crowd applauds : with angiy tone 
 His bliss true Virtue will not own ; 
 
 To teach men not to use 
 False names. A realm, and crown secure 
 She grants, and bays that will endure, 
 To him, and him alone who, poor. 
 
 Wealth without envy views. 
 
73 
 
 3. ^0 dSutnttts BzlUtts 
 
 Thy heart content and calm when lile seems hard 
 Preserve ; nor less, if Fortune's highest card 
 Thou hold, unseemly mirth deny 
 Thyself; for, Dellius, thou must die. 
 Whether in sadness all thy years thou pass ; 
 Or on fete-days far hence amid the grass 
 Thou lie, and sip at day's decline 
 Thy choicest old Falernian wine, 
 Where overhead tall pine and poplar white 
 For shade their hospitable boughs unite. 
 And in its zigzag course below 
 The babbling brooklet tries to flow. 
 There bid thy wines and unguents rich be laid, 
 With sweet rose-garlands that too soon must fade. 
 Whilst time and circumstance are fit. 
 And the weird Sisters' skeins permit. 
 
74 
 
 Thou soon shalt leave thy home, thy new-bought wood, 
 Thy country-place by Tibur's yellow flood. 
 
 And all thy wealth has built resign 
 
 To thy expectant heir of line. 
 Whether thou'rt rich, and lineage dost claim 
 From ancient Inachus, or bear'st a name 
 
 To want well known, no difiference makes : 
 
 Orcus on nothing pity takes. 
 All go the same road : from his box for all. 
 Sooner or later, will the ballot fall : 
 
 All must in Charon's boat be sent 
 
 To everlasting banishment. 
 
75 
 
 4- ^0 ^antkias f hocciis 
 
 For your love of your handmaiden feel no shame, 
 My Phoceus. Briseis, of snow-white fame, 
 Was a slave long ago, yet she lit love's flame 
 
 In Achilles, her haughty lord. 
 Tecmessa's beauty proud Ajax won, 
 Though she was a captive, he Telamon's son : 
 Agamemnon his triumph had nigh foregone 
 
 For a damsel, the prize of his sword ; 
 When the foreign battalions went down before 
 The might of the hero from Thessaly's shore ; 
 And the tired Greeks found that, with Hector no more, 
 
 Troy fell a far easier prey. 
 Are you sure that no parents of name well known 
 Your Phyllis's spouse will for son-in-law own ? 
 It may be, she mourns for a long-vanished throne, 
 And the gods of a home far away. 
 
76 
 
 Believe me, it certainly never could be, 
 
 That a girl so unselfish, so faithful, as she 
 
 Whom you love, should be sprung ot unworthy degree, 
 
 Or the child of a mother debased. 
 I can praise with good conscience her arms, her face, 
 And the turn of her ankle for smooth round grace : 
 You could never be jealous of me, for my race 
 
 To close its eighth lustre doth haste. 
 
77 
 
 5- 'cTo a Jrienb 
 
 Your heifer's pretty neck is not yet broke 
 To stand the pressure of a husband's yoke ; 
 
 She 's too young yet to bear the weight 
 
 And duties of the marriage-state. 
 Round the green meadows with the steers to stray 
 She loves, or in moist osier-beds to play, 
 
 Or her sun-heated flanks to lave 
 
 Tn some cool brook's refreshing wave. 
 Let not blind passion make you over bold : 
 Your grasp from yonder unripe grapes withhold, 
 
 That Autumn soon with purple hue 
 
 Of varied tint will paint for you. 
 The wings of Time beat fast, and every year 
 He takes away from you, he adds to her : 
 
 With flashing eye and flushing cheek 
 
 Soon Lalage your love will seek. 
 
78 
 
 Not Chloris then with her developed charms 
 Will vie, nor Pholoe, who flies your arms, 
 
 Her shoulders beautiful and bright 
 
 As moonbeams on the sea at night. 
 Not Gyges' self will then with her compare ; 
 Though, 'midst a troop of girls, his flowing hair 
 
 And fair smooth face might well perplex 
 
 A stranger to discern his sex. 
 
79 
 
 6. ^0 Scptimiits 
 
 Septimius, you promised to visit with me 
 
 Cadiz, and the homes of the Biscayans free, 
 
 And the quicksands, where Afric's tempestuous sea 
 
 Seethes over the scarce-hidden bar. 
 But I, for my old age should greatly prefer 
 From the old Argive colony never to stir 
 Of Tibur : there let me escape from the whirr 
 
 Of land and sea-travel and war. 
 And if that retreat the hard Fates should deny, 
 Galesus' fair banks, where the sheep love to lie 
 With their- delicate coats, and the country I'll try, 
 
 Where Spartan Phalantus was king. 
 That nook of the world smiles more sweetly to me 
 Than any I know : there the store of the bee 
 With Hymettus can match, and the grey olive tree 
 
 With Venafrum can enter the ring. 
 
8o 
 
 There the winter is mild, and the spring tarries long, 
 And the vines sunny Anion's rich uplands among 
 With the growth of Falerii, famous in song. 
 
 Need ne'er be ashamed to contend. 
 Those hills so enchanting, Septimius dear, 
 Are awaiting our coming : there you the last tear 
 Of a lifelong affection shall drop on the bier 
 
 Of Horace the poet, your friend. 
 
7. ^0 f ompnuB ^arits 
 
 O THOU ! who many a time hast dared with me 
 In Brutus' legions all the risks of war, 
 True Roman ! who has brought thee from afar 
 
 Home to thy father's gods and Italy, 
 
 Varus, of all my friends who art most dear? 
 Oft o'er the wine-cup have I stolen away 
 With thee a tew hours from the lagging day, 
 
 While cassia-garlands bound our glistening hair. 
 
 With thee from sad Philippi's rout I fled, 
 
 And panic-stricken threw away my shield. 
 When courage broke, and on the shameful field 
 
 The men who threatened mighty things lay dead. 
 
 Me while I trembled, through the thickened air. 
 
 From hostile sword swift Hermes stooped to save ; 
 Thee once again the combat's ebbing wave 
 
 Back to the eddying sea of battle bare. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 Keep then with me the bounden feast to Jove, 
 And in the shadow of my spreading bay 
 Thy limbs, with long campaigning weary, lay ; 
 
 Nor spare the cask reserved for him I love. 
 
 rill high the bowl with Massic wine, and drown 
 Sad memories in oblivion ; from the shell 
 Pour out the unguents that so sweetly smell. 
 
 Who shall make haste to twine the festive crown 
 
 Of parsley, or bright myrtle ? Who shall be 
 The choice of Venus for toast-master ? I 
 With Edon's maddest Bacchanals will vie : 
 
 To revel with a friend is sweet to me. 
 
83 
 
 8. 1^0 Marine 
 
 If ever, Barine, from injured Truth 
 You suffered at all, if a blackened tooth 
 Your beauty should mar, or a nail uncouth 
 
 Would vouch for Jupiter's frown, 
 I'd believe : but with pledges you bind your hair. 
 That you purpose to break ; yet you grow more fair, 
 And you take your airing, the general care 
 
 Of all the young men in the town. 
 You thrive on insulting your mother's tomb. 
 And the silent stars, and the midnight's gloom, 
 And heaven, and the gods themselves, to whom 
 
 Death's chilly hand is unknown. 
 I am certain that Venus herselt must smile 
 At your sins, and the Nymphs who know no guile. 
 And merciless Cupid, who whets the while 
 
 His darts on his blood-stained stone. 
 
84 
 
 For you all the children are growing : each year 
 
 With a brand-new bevy of slaves you appear, 
 
 Yet the old ones, tho' often to quit you they swear, 
 
 Throng your impious threshold again. 
 Not a mother in Rome but dreads you for her son, 
 Nor a stingy old father : each bride newly won 
 Lives in agony ever, lest you, wicked one, 
 
 Her lord from his home should detain. 
 
8s 
 
 9. ^a i;ihts lalgiws 
 
 ' Tis not for ever that the torrents fall 
 On the rank fields ; nor 'neath the angry squall 
 Do Caspian waves for ever roar : 
 Nor on Armenia's frozen shore 
 Stands the hard ice throughout the year ; old friend. 
 Nor aye before the Northern storm-winds bend 
 The oaks that crown Garganus' head. 
 Sometimes the lindens cease to shed 
 Their leaves ; but never, Valgius, thou the tears 
 Of grief for thy lost Mystes, when appears 
 Bright Vesper in the gloaming gray, 
 Or flying from the dawn of day. 
 Not thus the prince of ninety summers mourned, 
 From year to year, Antilochus inurned ; 
 Not thus- his sire and sisters wept 
 When Troilus untimely slept. 
 
86 
 
 Give up at last unmanly murmuring, 
 
 And Caesar's newest triumphs let us sing ; 
 Snow-capped Niphates' humbled pride, 
 And Median Tigris' rolling tide. 
 
 That, conscious of a stranger's mastery, 
 
 In lesser eddies hurries to the sea ; 
 
 And Scythia's hordes, that now must deign 
 
 1^ To ride in a restricted plain. 
 
87 
 
 10. ^0 pdnius ^arro 
 
 'TwERE better living not to steer 
 Thy barque aye seaward, nor in fear 
 Of storm, Licinius, sail too near 
 
 The perils of the land. 
 The man who loves the golden mean 
 Lives safe. With him is never seen 
 Foul avarice ; nor wastes gay sheen, 
 
 With Envy by the hand. 
 Rude winds rock most the cedars tall, 
 The highest house has heaviest fall. 
 The hill that towers above them all 
 
 The red-tongued lightning rends. 
 In sorrow hope, in fortune fear, 
 Possess the heart for change of cheer 
 Aye well prepared ; the winter drear 
 
 The same Jove brings, and sends 
 
Away. If now thy lot be ill, 
 'Twill change anon : Apollo will 
 Soon wake his cittern so long still, 
 
 Nor always bend his bow. 
 When means are scant, a dauntless mind 
 And bold be thine. If Fate be kind, 
 Haul in thy canvas, lest the wind 
 
 Too favourable blow. 
 
89 
 
 What warlike Biscayans and Scythians plan, 
 Hirpinus, worry not thy brain to scan ; 
 Salt water rolls 'twixt them and us, 
 Then wherefore all this weary fuss ? 
 Man's life requires but little. Youth, alas ! 
 And youth's smooth comeliness too quickly pass : 
 And age and its grey hairs remove 
 The sweets of sleep and joys of love. 
 Spring's beauteous flowerets will not always seem 
 So fair, nor aye the same the moon's soft beam. 
 Then why with thought thy spirit wear 
 Unequal to incessant care ? 
 Nay, while we can, at ease beneath the shade 
 Of some tall plane-tree let our limbs be laid, 
 Or this dark pine, while roses rare 
 And Syrian unguents scent our hair. 
 
9° 
 
 There let us quaff, till Evius drives away 
 
 Gnawing anxiety, while pages gay 
 
 Shall haste our ardent wine to cool 
 With water from yon limpid pool. 
 
 Let some one with her ivory cittern here 
 
 Bid Lyde haste, the wandering tymbestere. 
 With locks that know not plaits nor curls, 
 Plain-knotted like a Spartan girl's. 
 
91 
 
 12. ^0 Mviczn^B 
 
 The tale of heroic Numantia's slaughter, 
 
 And Hannibal's wrath, when on Sicily's sea 
 The best blood of Carthage empurpled the water, 
 
 Befit not my peaceable cittern, and me. 
 I care not to sing of the wine-maddened anger 
 
 Of the Centaurs and Lapithae, nor the wild brood 
 Of Earth's giant children, who brought into danger. 
 
 Till Hercules' might their rebellion subdued. 
 The bright home of Saturn. Each glorious battle 
 
 Of Csesar suits better your statelier prose. 
 You shall tell how behind his proud chariot rattle 
 
 The fetters, that bend the proud necks of his foes. 
 My Muse never wearies the praise of repeating 
 
 Of your lady Licimnia's silvery voice. 
 And the glance of her eye, and her bosom that 's beating 
 
 With the trusty affection of mutual choice. 
 
92 
 
 How graceful her step as she leads the glad chorus! 
 
 How playful her wit in the gay repartee ! 
 When the maids on the feast-day of Dian before us 
 
 Perform, who has white arms as shapely as she ? 
 Say, friend, for the wealth of Achsemenes' coffers, 
 
 For the nuggets that Thrace and that Phrygia bea: , 
 For the fabulous riches that Araby offers. 
 
 Would you barter the gold of Licimnia's hair ? 
 As she turns to your kisses her ivory shoulder, 
 
 Or coyly refuses the boon that you seek, 
 And mocks at your prayers, as a hint to be bolder. 
 
 Then gives on a sudden the bloom of her cheek. 
 
93 
 
 13. ^0 a %vtt 
 
 Cursed was the day, and doubly cursed the hand, 
 That planted thee, and reared thee in the land, 
 
 With death to overwhelm his race, 
 
 And all the country-side disgrace. 
 I dare be sworn, he was so vile a knave. 
 He hurried his own father to the grave ; 
 
 And stained his chambers with the blood 
 
 Of sleeping guests, and cooked his food 
 With Colchian poisons : nothing can have been 
 Too black a crime for him, who on my green 
 
 First set thy stem, thou wretched tree. 
 
 To fall on unoffending me. 
 What each of us should shun from day to day 
 Man never knows. The Bosphorus white with spray 
 
 Phoenicia's sailors dread, but fear 
 
 No other peril anywhere. 
 
94 
 
 Our soldiers fear the Parthian's treacherous flight, 
 And backward arrows : they Rome's growing might 
 
 And chains : but Death's unlooked-for way 
 
 Has nations slain, and still will slay. 
 The realms of dusky Proserpine I saw 
 Almost ; and ^acus dispensing law : 
 
 The separate dwellings of the good. 
 
 And Sappho in indignant mood 
 Striking the lyre her island's maids to scold ; 
 And thee, Alcaeus, with thy quill of gold, 
 
 Solemnly chanting war's alarms. 
 
 The risks of sea, and exile's harms. 
 In sacred silence to the mournful strings 
 The shades attend ; but when of banished kings. 
 
 And fight he sings, crowds gather near 
 
 To drink his words with greedy ear. 
 The hundred-headed monster awe-stmck hears 
 And wags his tail, and lowers his shaggy ears ; 
 
 The snakes that wreath the Furies hair 
 
 Sway to and fro with charmed air. 
 Even Tantalus and sage Prometheus find 
 The sweet notes make their suffering less unkind ; 
 
 And for a little space Orion 
 
 Forgets to hunt the lynx and lion. 
 
95 
 
 14- %o f ojstumus 
 
 Ah 1 Postumus, how swiftly glide away 
 The fleeting years, and goodness no delay 
 Of wrinkles and old age can bring, 
 Nor stay the beat of Death's strong wing. 
 Not though thy hand to Pluto day by day 
 Should thrice a hundred oxen duly slay, 
 
 Could'st move his stony heart, that ne'er 
 Hath melted at a suppliant's prayer. 
 Tityos and triple Geryon he keeps 
 Within the circle of those woeful deeps, 
 
 That all must cross, who walk the earth. 
 Be royal, or unknown their birth. 
 In vain we shun war's blood-besprinkled plain 
 And boisterous Adria's roaring flood in vain : 
 In vain the treacherous softness fly 
 Of south winds 'neath rich autumn's sky. 
 
96 
 
 We all must see Cocytus' dull black flood 
 Of sluggish ooze, and Danaus' evil brood, 
 And Sisyphus, who all alone 
 Toils ever at the stubborn stone. 
 Lands, home, and tender wife thou must resign : 
 Not one of all these favourite trees of thine 
 Shall, save the cypress' gloomy spray, 
 Follow their short-lived master's day. 
 Thy worthier heir shall drain the precious jars 
 That thou hast kept with countless bolts and bars, 
 And with such wine the pavement stain 
 As pontiffs long to quafi-in vain. 
 
97 
 
 15- .51 ^attt£nt obzv l^ttxttrj) 
 
 Few acres to the plough remain 
 
 From kingly piles ; on every side 
 Fish-ponds, than Lucrine's lake more wide, 
 
 Are spreading ; and the barren plane 
 
 Thrusts out the elms : a countless store 
 Of myrtle trees and violet beds 
 For dainty nostrils fragrance sheds, 
 
 Where fruitful olives stood of yore. 
 
 With matted boughs hot summers' rays 
 The laurel fends : not Romulus, 
 Nor bearded Cato willed it thus : 
 
 Not such the rale of olden days. 
 
 Then little on themselves they spent, 
 But much on Rome : no colonnade 
 Of stately breadth dim Arctus' shade 
 
 To private homes in summer lent. 
 
 G 
 
98 
 
 Then Law forbade to look with scorn 
 
 On homes of turf; then quarried stone 
 Was kept for public works alone, 
 
 And the gods' temples to adorn. 
 
99 
 
 i6. %a favxipzin& ^ro0phUB 
 
 'Tis calm that the mariner craves aloud 
 In the broad ^gean, when drifts of cloud 
 Have enwrapped the moon in a funeral shroud, 
 
 And the stars no longer shine. 
 'Tis calm that the Thracian, in battle so bold, 
 And the Median craves, with his quiver of gold ; 
 Calm, that no treasure of wealth untold. 
 
 Nor jewels, nor raiment fine. 
 Can purchase. No gems, be they never so gay. 
 No Consular lictors, can drive away 
 The worries and cares on the heart that prey, 
 
 That flutter round frescoed halls. 
 Though his purse be lean, he has much delight 
 On whose modest table the spoons are bright 
 That his father left him ; his slumbers light 
 
 No terror or greed appals. 
 
With our little time and strength is it wise 
 
 To aim at so much ? We may change our skies : 
 
 Can the man, who his clime and his country flies, 
 
 Himself too leave behind ? 
 On the ironclad's deck stalks carking care ; 
 In the crash of the cavalry charge she is near ; 
 She is fleeter of foot than the flight of deer, 
 
 Or the rain-fraught south-east wind. 
 If to-day we are happy, why should we scan 
 The future for trouble ? The wiser plan 
 Is to smile at the bitterest cup. No man 
 
 Is in every aspect blest. 
 Achilles was slain while his fame was high : 
 Tithonus, lingering, longed to die. 
 Perchance, what to you the Hours deny, 
 
 May be granted to my behest. 
 Your flocks and herds by the hundred graze 
 Fair Sicily's meadows ; your pair of bays 
 Neigh loud in their harness ; in awe men gaze 
 
 At the sheen of your Tyrian gown. 
 I have a few small fields for use. 
 And the gentle fire of the Grecian Muse. 
 Fate lets me laugh at the world's abuse, 
 
 And scorn the talk of the town. 
 
17- ^0 ittaccttas 
 
 Why wilt thou worry me with that stale cry 
 Foreboding ill ? Neither the gods nor I 
 
 Can suffer thee to die, dear friend ! 
 
 On whom my joys and hopes depend. 
 If one half of my soul some Fate unkind 
 Should seize, how could the other stay behind ? 
 
 No longer worthy love, a soul 
 
 No more one smooth harmonious whole. 
 The last long journey both at once we'll take : 
 The solemn oath I swore, I will not break; 
 
 Whene'er thou goest, I will go ; 
 
 Hand locked in hand we'll face the foe. 
 Not the Chimaera's levin-laden breath. 
 Not hundred-handed Gyas raised from death. 
 
 From thee could sever me, for these 
 
 Are Themis' and the Fates' decrees. 
 
I know not whether Libra's kindly power, 
 
 Or Scorpio's hate beheld my natal hour, 
 Or Capricorn, who baleful laves 
 His lurid light in western waves. 
 
 But in most wondrous sort our stars agree. 
 
 From Saturn's dark design but lately thee 
 The succour of the god of light 
 Preserved, and stayed the hurried flight 
 
 Of Death ; when all the theatre's glad crowd 
 
 Thy coming hailed, and " Vivat" cried aloud 
 Thrice over. I had surely died. 
 Had not the tree been turned aside 
 
 By Faunus, who holds all us scribblers dear. 
 
 Wherefore do thou for thanks a temple rear, 
 And hecatombs of oxen slay : 
 A lamb my humbler debt shall pay. 
 
103 
 
 i8. 1^0 a Miszx 
 
 No roof with gold or ivory wrought 
 
 In my bright home is seen, 
 No beams from far Hymettus brought 
 On marble columns lean 
 In Afric cut : no doubtful heir 
 Attalus' crown I take to wear : 
 For me no well-bom clients pull 
 The skeins of Sparta's purple wool. 
 Truth and a vein of kindly wit 
 
 Are mine ; my cottage door 
 Rich neighbours seek, well pleased with it, 
 I ask the gods no more : 
 No noble friend for place I tease, 
 Contented with my Sabine ease, 
 Where day by day goes swiftly by 
 And new moons wax, and wane, and die, 
 
I04 
 
 You, with your best foot in the grave, 
 
 New marble-contracts make. 
 Thoughtless of death, from Baise's wave 
 The shore itself you take 
 To build on, where the sea breaks rough ; 
 As if the land were not enough ; 
 Nay, as in mock of heaven and Jove, 
 Your clients' land-marks you remove. 
 
 Husband and wife, to sate your greed. 
 Are driven from home and land ; 
 Bearing their gods they go, and lead 
 Their children by the hand. 
 Why stretch your bounds ? No bounds in faith 
 Are half as sure as those of Death. 
 The richest lord of slaves must come 
 At last to Orcus' dismal home. 
 
 The same just Earth receives the poor. 
 
 And men of royal tribe. 
 Death's ferryman Prometheus' store 
 Of craft nor gold could bribe 
 To row him back. He keeps in place 
 Proud Tantalus and all his race ; 
 The labourer, when his work is done, 
 Called, or not called, he waits upon. 
 
105 
 
 19- '^0 iacrkus 
 
 Far away on the hills jolly Bacchus I saw 
 One day teaching music, (believe me who hear,) 
 The Nymphs stood by, and learned in awe, 
 And the goat-footed satyrs with pricked-up ear. 
 Evoe ! I cannot get over my fear ! 
 My heart beats high still full of thee now ! 
 Oh ! spare me ! Father Liber, spare ! 
 Thou terrible god of the ivy-wreathed bough ! 
 I'll praise thy Bacchanals' wayward train. 
 Their rivers of wine and of milk so free, 
 And celebrate in fitting strain 
 The honey that wells from the time-hollowed tree. 
 I'll praise the charms of the peerless maid 
 Whose crown new lustre to heaven doth lend ; 
 And Pentheus' house in ruin laid, 
 And Thracian Lycurgus's horrible end. 
 
io6 
 
 Thee rivers and seas of the east obey ; 
 In the desolate mountains, with jovial air, 
 With snakes that coil in harmless play 
 Thou bind'st the wild locks of the Bistons' hair. 
 When the Giants' iniquitous band essayed 
 The realm of thy father on high to attack, 
 To earth thy unexpected aid, 
 In the guise of a lion, hurled Rhcetus back. 
 
 They knew thee to dancing and revel inclined 
 And fun ; of thy fitness they thought but light 
 For war's stern work ; but grieved to find 
 That the first in the frolic was first in the fight. 
 Grim Cerberus saw thee, nor uttered a cry. 
 With the gold horn shining thy curls among, 
 But wagged his tail as thou wentest by, 
 And beslavered thy feet with his triple tongue. 
 
107 
 
 20. ^0 M^ttnns 
 
 No common flight, no weakly wing 
 
 Me, bird and bard at once, shall bear 
 Through the clear realms of liquid air. 
 
 This earth, too great for envy's sting. 
 
 And towns, I quit. Maecenas dear. 
 
 Deem not, though humbly born, that I 
 Like ordinary folk will die. 
 
 And see the Stygian waters drear. 
 
 Rough skin already clothes my thighs. 
 And all above light feathery down 
 From shoulder e'en to finger grown 
 
 Makes me a snow-white swan in guise. 
 
 Swifter than Icarus my flight 
 
 Shall reach the moaning Bosphorus' shore, 
 And Afric's quicksands, and explore 
 
 The frozen plains of endless night. 
 
io8 
 
 Spain with her lore my song shall own, 
 And Colchis, and the tribes that fear, 
 But seem to flout, the Marsians' spear. 
 
 And all who quafif the stream of Rhone. 
 
 Then bid no mournful funeral wail _ 
 
 My empty obsequies attend : 
 Thy grief restrain ; nor to thy friend 
 
 Pay honours that can nought avail. 
 
ODES 
 
 BOOK III 
 
Ill 
 
 I. Jlgainst €otittousnzs8 
 
 The mob of the commons I hate and abhor : 
 Keep silence, I beg : a song, never before 
 By youths and maidens heard, to-day. 
 The high-priest of the Muses, I'll sing to you/^ 
 
 Great kings, who have vassals and serft of their own. 
 Themselves are the subjects of Jupiter's throne; 
 All things his sovereign brow obey, 
 For the giants he mightily overthrew. / 
 
 Some can better than others in broad rows lay 
 Their vines to the poles; on election day 
 One candidate boasts noble blood. 
 One, character higher and world-wide fame ; 
 Another has many more clients ; but Fate 
 Will shake out her tickets for small and great. 
 Judge-like, in unimpassioned rnood ; 
 For her lottery-wheel holds every name. 
 
When the drawn sword hangs by a single hair 
 O'er the criminal's head, not the daintiest fare 
 Can hearty appetite provide, 
 Nor the nightingale's notes, nor the cittern's sound, 
 Bring sleep to his eyelids ; sleep gladly comes 
 To the weary farm-labourers' humble homes. 
 Nestling by shady river side ; 
 Or to Tempe when softest of Zephyrs abound. 
 Whoever no more than enough would have. 
 Spends never a thought on the sea's rough wave. 
 Nor fears though lurid be the hue 
 Of the rising Goat, or the westering Bear ; 
 
 Though vines be hail-smitten, and farm complain. 
 When its promise all fails, of the ceaseless rain ; 
 Though drought the cropless corn-fields rue. 
 And the dog-days of summer, or frosts unfair. 
 
 The fish in the sea have less play-room, I know. 
 Where the crowds of contractors and workmen bestow, 
 The stones, they mean to rear on high, 
 For the great man who wearies- of living ashore. 
 Let them be ! for Alarm and her sister Wrath 
 Climb ever sure-footed the great man's path. 
 Black Care no trireme passeth by ; 
 She rides ever behind where the knight rides before. 
 
"3 
 
 But if Phrygian marble, in heartfelt grief, 
 If purple apparel can give no relief; 
 If e'en Falernian vineyards fail. 
 And the savin prepared for the Persian's king ; 
 Why ask me to build upon columns fine 
 An elaborate mansion of novel design ? 
 Why should I change my Sabine vale 
 For riches, that nothing but worry would bring ? 
 
114 
 
 2. praise of iHilitarg %tnminq 
 
 In active service let your brave lad learn 
 
 With narrow means, as with a friend, to bear, 
 And vex the Parthians in his turn, 
 A Lancer of unerring spear. 
 
 In outdoor pastimes let him spend his life, 
 
 And deeds of peril ; till from leaguered town 
 The hostile tyrant's buxom wife 
 And daughter, scarce a woman grown, 
 
 Look forth, and sigh, " Ne'er in his ignorance may 
 
 Our royal suitor cross yon lion's path. 
 Who through the middle of the fray 
 Strides, flecked with gore, and dark with wrath.' 
 
 'Tis sweet and glorious for one's land to die. 
 
 Death too can catch the man who runs away ; 
 Nor thinks it shame through timid thigh 
 The coward, or through back to slay. 
 
IIS 
 
 The brave, who ne'er has lost a stricken field, 
 Lives in the lustre of untarnished fame, 
 Nor will he take, nor taken yield. 
 High office at the crowd's acclaim. 
 And some, for ordinary death too good, 
 Valour by hidden roads to heaven doth bring ; 
 Nor deigns to sup on common food. 
 But spurns damp earth with soaring wing. 
 Silence too hath her wage. I would not let 
 One, who has blabbed dread Ceres' mystery, 
 His foot across my threshold set, 
 Nor loose the fragile skiff with me. 
 Oft good with bad the outraged king of gods 
 Slays at one stroke ; seldom, though lame of pace. 
 Vengeance, pursuing with her rods 
 The culprit, fails to win the race. 
 
n6 
 
 3. Jlgnitist |X£bitili)in'g %vo^ 
 
 The upright man, who calls his soul his own, 
 
 No eager crowd can frighten into wrong : 
 He cares not, though in wrath the tyrant frown ; 
 
 Nor changes purpose for the south-wind strong. 
 Which Adria's stormy waters holds in thrall ; 
 
 Nor dreads the terrors of the Thunderer's might : 
 Though the whole firmament should break and fall. 
 
 The awful ruin would not him affright. 
 'Twas thus that Hercules and Pollux strove, 
 
 And striving scaled the citadels of hght ; 
 'Twixt whom Augustus shall recline above, 
 
 And quaff with ruby lip the nectar bright. 
 'Twas worth like this that gave the Wine-god power 
 
 To tame his tigers to th' unwelcome yoke : 
 'Twas thus Quirinus, in his victory's hour. 
 
 From Acheron's horrors in Mars' chariot broke ; 
 
117 
 
 ^Vllen Juno thus th' assembled gods addressed, 
 
 " Oh ! Ilium ! Ilium ! Thee a judge unjust, 
 An umpire harbouring crime within his breast. 
 
 And a strange woman, humbled in the dust. 
 In th' hour, when from the gods, in evil glee, 
 
 Laomedon withheld the wages due, 
 Thy fate was sealed by Pallas and by me ; 
 
 And all thy sons thy founder's fraud must rue. 
 But now no more Laconian Helen shines 
 
 With her notorious lover ; now no more 
 Priam's false house hurls back th' Achaean lines. 
 
 Through Hector's prowess, to the sea-beat shore. 
 That war has sunk to rest. With it let die 
 
 Our feuds that fanned its fury ; I for one 
 My wrath 'gainst Mars am ready to lay by. 
 
 And greet his Trojan vestal's hated son 
 With words of welcome. Freely let his feet 
 
 Tread the star-pavement of these mansions bright ; 
 And let him learn to sip the nectar sweet. 
 
 And 'mongst the quiet gods take rank and right. 
 So long as broad seas roar 'twixt Troy and Rome, 
 
 Where'er it like them let the exiles turn, 
 And reign in happiness : while cattle come. 
 
 And tread round Priam's and round Paris' urn : 
 
it8 
 
 While in their tombs the mountain foxes breed 
 
 Unhindered, let the Capitolian dome 
 Stand in its splendour ; and the vanquished Mede 
 
 Be forced to take his laws from haughty Rome. 
 Wide let her name be wafted on all sides, 
 
 Her name of terror, where the inland sea 
 Cool Europe from scorched Africa divides. 
 
 And Nile at flood-time drowns the fruitful lea. 
 She yields not to the lust for hidden gold. 
 
 Deep buried in the ground, and better so 
 Than poured perforce into the money-mould 
 
 By hands that nought from rapine sacred know. 
 To earth's far confines let her eagles sweep, 
 
 Be boundless as the universe her powers ; 
 Where fires eternally .their revels keep, 
 
 Where nought is seen save cloud, and storm, and showers. 
 But on these terms I grant this fate to Rome, 
 
 That her brave sons ne'er strive, and strive in vain. 
 Proud of their might, too fond of their old home. 
 
 To build the towers of Ilium again. 
 If e'er in evil hour Troy raise her head. 
 
 Once more in bloodshed shall she be undone ; 
 While I the conquering battalions lead, 
 
 Who am Jove's sister and his wife in one. 
 
119 
 
 Though thrice, by Phoebus' aid, her walls should rise, 
 
 Built all of brass ; my Argives to the earth 
 Should raze them thrice ; and thrice her women's cries 
 
 Should mourn their husbands' death, their children's birth." 
 But stay, such themes suit not my mirthful lute. 
 
 I pray thee, wayward Muse, cease to relate 
 The talk of gods : 'tis better to be mute, 
 
 Than dwarf in utterance themes for thee too great. 
 
4. %o the Mnsts 
 
 Calliope, my queen, stoop from above. 
 
 Come, sing a song unceasing to the tone 
 Of flutes, or with thy silvery voice alone, 
 
 Or to the cittern of Apollo's love. 
 
 D' ye hear her ? or does some sweet phantasy 
 
 Make sport of me ? I seem to hear her play, 
 And in the consecrated groves to stray, 
 
 Where purling streams and whispering breezes be. 
 
 Once when, a child, on Vultur's slope I strayed 
 Beyond Apulia's limits, and with play 
 Exhausted, laid me down and slept, they say, 
 
 The doves of ancient tale my covert made 
 
 Of fresh-picked leaves ; and none could understand. 
 Of those who dwelt in Acherontia's nest 
 Midway to heaven, or Bantia's woody crest, 
 
 Or on Ferentum's rich low-lying land. 
 
How I had lain secure from the attack 
 
 Of viper or of bear ; how myrtle boughs 
 And holy bays were heaped above my brows : 
 
 'Twas clear my childhood guardians did not lack. 
 
 Yours, ever yours, sweet singers, I am borne 
 Up the steep Sabine hills, where Tibur lies. 
 And cool Proeneste glads town-wearied eyes ; 
 
 Or to where Baise's threatened waters mourn. 
 
 I love your fountains and your dances still. 
 And ye from lost Philippi's shameful field, 
 And from th' accursed tree my life did shield, 
 
 And waves that seethed round Palinurus' hill. 
 
 Would ye but wend with me, I fain would try 
 
 My barque through furious Bosphorus to steer : 
 With you for comrades tread, and feel no fear, 
 
 The sands that swelter 'neath Assyria's sky : 
 
 The stranger-hating Britons I would see. 
 
 The Catalans who horse-blood love to drink, 
 Gelonia's bowmen, and the reedy brink 
 
 Of Scythian Don, nor evil hap to me. 
 
 With you great Casar joys to find repose. 
 In some Pierian grot, from all his toil ; 
 Whilst his brave legions seek their native soil 
 
 Disbanded, tired of conquering their foes. 
 
Ye gentle counsel give, O gentle Nine, 
 
 Nor grudge it given. We know how the mad crew 
 Of Titans and their following He slew 
 
 With one impetuous thunderbolt divine, 
 
 Who the insensate earth, the tossing seas. 
 
 The fickle winds, the city's crowd, tontrols, 
 
 And gods in heaven, and men, and suffering souls, 
 
 Alone, with just unchangeable decrees. 
 
 Yet those intrepid brothers for awhile 
 
 Roused wondrous terror in the heart of Jove, 
 When their young sinewy arms thrice over strove 
 
 High Pelion on Olympus' head to pile ; 
 
 But what could Mimas' or Typhoeus' might, 
 
 Or huge Porphyrion's threatening stature do ? 
 Or Rhoetus, or Enceladus, who threw 
 
 Trees torn up by the roots, a daring wight? 
 
 Vain all ! 'gainst Pallas' ringing gorgon-shield 
 That broke their onset ; eager on one side 
 Stood Vulcan ; on the other Juno's pride : 
 
 And never ceasing his bent bow to wield. 
 
 He who in dew of pure Castalia laves 
 
 His shining locks, whom Lycia's thickets own. 
 And his dear native groves, as Phoebus known. 
 
 The god of Patara's fane and Delos' waves. 
 
123 
 
 Force without wisdom runs itself to earth : 
 
 Force, held in due control, the great gods love 
 To make more potent, yet can ne'er approve 
 
 That which in heart to every crime gives birth. 
 
 The hundred-handed Gyas witnesseth 
 
 My saying's truth ; and th' oft repeated tale 
 Of him who dared to raise chaste Dian's veil, 
 
 And by her maiden-darts was done to death. 
 
 Earth, on her offspring laid, laments the lot 
 
 Of all her sons, hurled by the lightning's breath 
 Reprieveless to the blazing realms beneath, 
 
 That feed on Etna, yet she moveth not. 
 
 Eternally at Tityos' side remains 
 
 The hungry vulture, to his sin assigned ; 
 His reckless love Pirithous moans, confined 
 
 By the vast weight of thrice a hundred chains. 
 
124 
 
 '§,zQuhxs 
 
 When he thunders in heaven, we believe in the throne 
 Of Jove : now the Britons at last are compelled, 
 And Persians grave, Rome's rule to own, 
 Augustus a god upon earth shall be held. 
 
 Have the soldiers of Crassus disgracefully borne 
 Strange wives with fond arms of affection to draw ? 
 And, all the ways of home forsworn. 
 To grow old on the farms of their fathers-in-law ? 
 
 Could the bold sons of Italy bend without shame 
 To the yoke of a Mede, and their kindred forget, 
 And Salian shields, and Vesta's flame ; 
 Whilst Jove was above, and Rome harmless as yet? 
 It was this the wise forethought of Regulus knew ; 
 When he spurned the base terms, that his dearly-loved home 
 Had given him back, and would not do. 
 What would ruin entail on long ages to come. 
 
125 
 
 " If a prisoner of war be not suffered to die 
 Unpitied, the flag of our country," he cried, 
 " I see on Punic shrines hang high, 
 And their arms with impunity stripped from the side 
 '^ Of our soldiers. The hands of our citizens free 
 In the fetters of slaves, and the enemy's gate 
 Wide open, and our men I see 
 Hard at work in the fields that we pillaged of late. 
 
 Do you deem that one, ransomed with argosies full 
 Of red gold, would fight harder ? The loss would be more 
 With sin to boot. Your faded wool 
 All the dyes of red seaweed can never restore. 
 
 Nor, when once it has fallen, can the valour that 's true 
 Let a counterfeit reign in its ancient stronghold. 
 When the snared deer the net breaks through, 
 And returns to the combat, then he will be bold. 
 Who hath trusted himself to the faith of a foe, 
 And will Carthage provoke to renewal of strife, 
 Who how the lash can cut doth know. 
 When his arms are bound tight, and hath feared for his life. 
 He warfare and peace, in anxiety how 
 To make sure of his own life, would mingle. O shame ! 
 Oh ! mighty Carthage ! prouder thou 
 If loss and dishonour on Italy came !" 
 
' 126 
 
 And they tell, how the tender embrace of his wife, 
 And his little ones' arms, he put gently aside. 
 Like one already done with life ; 
 And gazed on the ground, like a man, dry-eyed ; 
 
 Till the wavering voice of the Senate grew strong. 
 At advice never heard in its chamber before ; 
 And through his friends' reluctant throng 
 Heroic he sped towards his enemies' shore. 
 
 Yet he knew all the while how the barbarous rack 
 Was preparing for him : but the neighbourly press 
 Of the vast crowd that bade him back 
 He passed, at a pace neither greater nor less 
 
 Than if glad to be rid of dull clients' long talk, — 
 Some lawsuit just ended at last,' — he had gone 
 To fair Venafrum's greenwood walk, 
 I Or to Spartan Tarentum, to ponder alone. 
 
127 
 
 6. '^0 the p,oman3 
 
 The sins of thy sires, till the temples again 
 
 Be builded, thou, Roman ! must pay ; 
 From their tottering fanes till the gods see the stain 
 
 Of the black smoke clean vanished away. 
 In the fear of the gods lies the conqueror's path : 
 
 Be they thy beginning and end ; 
 Who, sick of neglect, the dread signs of their wrath 
 
 On sorrowing Italy send. 
 Twice lately Monaeses' and Pacorus' arms 
 
 Have routed our legions ill-starred : 
 And they laugh, as they add to their necklaces' charms 
 
 Their victory's golden reward. 
 Our city, while seething with partizan heat, 
 
 To the Dacians nigh fell a prey. 
 And the soldiers of Egypt : — these feared for tlieir fleet. 
 
 Those swift with their arrows to slay ; — 
 
128 
 
 Ages, pregnant with evil, first family ties 
 
 And wedlock began to pollute : 
 And the stream, that from such a foul spring took its rise, 
 
 Love of country and kin doth uproot. 
 Now the maid in her teens takes vile pleasure to learn 
 
 The Ionian dance, and delights 
 Her pliant young limbs to advantage to turn. 
 
 And to dream of adulterous nights. 
 Soon, a wife, while her husband drinks deep of his wine, 
 
 She seeks younger gallants, nor cares 
 To which of his guests, when the lamps cease to shine, 
 
 'Neath the rose she shall offer her wares ; 
 But, in sight of her nonchalant spouse, the rude call 
 
 Of the broker she hastes to obey; 
 Or the mate of the merchantman trading to Gaul 
 
 Who with red gold dishonour will pay. 
 Not such were the parents whose children dyed red 
 
 The blue sea with African blood ; 
 Before whom cruel Pyrrhus, and Hannibal fled ; 
 
 Nor mighty Antiochus stood : 
 But a soldierly race, in simplicity reared. 
 
 Who with rude Sabine mattock would till 
 The fields of their humble forefathers, nor feared. 
 
 At the beck of a stern mother's will, 
 
129 
 
 To cut and to carry the faggots, when far 
 
 The shades from the western hills fell, 
 When the ox left the yoke, and the sun's setting car 
 
 Brought the hours that we all love so well. 
 Is there ought that escapeth the spoiling of Time ? 
 
 Our fathers' degenerate race 
 Gave birth to our own, deeper sullied with crime. 
 
 And our children will yet be more base ! 
 
130 
 
 7. %0 i^SttXU 
 
 Why weep'st, Asterie, for Gyges' lack, 
 
 Whom early springs first zephyrs will bring back, 
 
 Rich with a store of Thyrian merchandise, 
 
 A lad of rare true love and constancy ! 
 Weary and lone at Oricum he stays, 
 Bound by south winds, since the tempestuous days 
 
 Of mad Capella, and with tearful eyes 
 
 Watches the cold nights through in thought of thee. 
 And yet his hostess Chloe'5 messenger 
 Prates of her deep-drawn sighs, and how in her 
 
 Those fires are glowing, that in thee once burned ; 
 
 And tempts him in a thousand artful ways. 
 He warns him how the wife of Proetus' bed, 
 Her unsuspecting husband would have led 
 
 By untrue accusations, deftly turned, 
 
 Too-virtuous Bellerophon to slay. 
 
131 
 
 He tells how narrowly from Orcus' arms 
 Peleus escaped, who fled the proffered charms 
 Of queen Hippolyte, the frail and fair, 
 And old-world tales recounts, that teach to sin. 
 But all in vain as yet. To all his tones 
 Gyges is deafer than the wave-worn stones 
 
 Of Icaros' island-shore. But. oh ! beware ! 
 Lest thou thy friend Enipeus should'st begin 
 To like too well. Although on Mars's course 
 None else has equal skill to rein the horse, 
 
 Nor, of the manly youths who swiftest swim 
 Th' Etruscan stream, with him dare any vie ; 
 At nightfall bolt thy doors ; nor, if thou hear 
 The flute's complaining, let thy head appear 
 At any open lattice ; and to him. 
 Calling thee cruel oft, make no reply. 
 
132 
 
 8. ^0 M^czvi-as 
 
 Thou wonder'st what garlands of flowerets sweet 
 On the Calends of March, and the perfumed heat 
 Of incense, and coals on the verdant peat, 
 
 To a bachelor are like me. 
 Know thou, who art skilled in the tongues of the East, 
 I have promised to Liber a right glad feast, 
 And a milk-white goat with his shaggy breast. 
 
 For escape from the falling tree. 
 This day; as each year brings it round again. 
 Shall start the cork with its pitchy stain 
 From a jar, that in Tullus's consular reign 
 
 In the smoke of the garret grew brown. 
 So drink, M»cenas, drink deep I pray 
 Of thy friend's best wine ; till the dawn of day 
 Let the lamps burn cheerily ! far away 
 
 All clamour and anger are flown. 
 
133 
 
 Lay aside for a season thy country's care, 
 
 For Dacian Cotison's ranks are bare, 
 
 And the Mede is embroiled in a home-warfare, 
 
 His own most dangerous foe. 
 Our rivals of old on the shores of Spain 
 Are obliged at last to endure our chain ; 
 And the Scythian quits his unfruitful plain 
 
 For the hills, with unbent bow. 
 What is it to thee if the populace glower ? 
 To redress their griefs is beyond thy power ; 
 Take gladly the good of the present hour ; 
 
 Let gloomy foreshadowings go. 
 
 / 
 
134 
 
 9. Jl M'&loqnt 
 
 Horace. Whilst nobody else's youthful arms 
 
 Were suffered to toy with thy neck's fair charms, 
 Whilst it gave thee pleasure to see me nigh, 
 No King of the East was as happy as I. 
 
 Lydia. As long as ipy own was the best-loved face, 
 Nor Chloe had taken the foremost place ; 
 My name was more honoured in all the town 
 Than Roman Ilia's old renown. 
 
 Horace. Oh ! Cretan Chloe so sweetly sings. 
 
 Her fingers touch deftly the cittern's strings ; 
 She rules me now, and I'd gladly die, 
 If so I could save her a single sigh. 
 
 Lydia. My heart is aglow with a mutual fire 
 For Calais, son of a Thurian squire ; 
 For him, twice over, I'd die with joy. 
 If the Fates would pardon my darhng boy. 
 
I3S 
 
 Horace. And what if the old love come again, 
 And rivet afresh the broken chain ? 
 If flaxen Chloe be bid go pack, 
 And my open threshold call Lydia back ? 
 
 Lydia. Though he is more lovely than loveliest star, 
 Thou lighter than cork, more irascible far 
 Than Adria's waves 'neath a storm-swept sky ; 
 With thee I'd willingly live and die. 
 
136 
 
 lo. 1:0 '§Vtt 
 
 Were you drinking the waters of Don far away, 
 With a savage for spouse, you'd be sorry to say 
 I was laid, to the winds of tlie country a prey. 
 
 On your pitiless threshold to die. 
 Don't you hear how the door rattles? Hark! how the trees. 
 The trim courtyards adorning, groan loud in the breeze, 
 And the snow in the gardens, beginning to freeze. 
 
 Crackles under the star-spangled sky. 
 Lest the wheel of dame Fortune turn backward, your pride, 
 So distasteful to Venus, lay quickly aside : 
 Your Tuscan blood need not, like Ithaca's bride, 
 
 Access to all wooers deny. 
 Though entreaties and presents can nothing prevail, 
 Nor the looks of your lovers as cuckoo-flowers pale ; 
 Though your husband's mad love for a singing-wench fail 
 
 To bend you, yet list to our cry 
 
137 
 
 And spare us. Your heart, like the oak's stubborn grain, 
 Is unyielding ; than serpents of Africa's plain 
 More cruel : but know ! on these steps in the rain 
 I will not eternally lie. 
 
1.^,8 
 
 Sweet Hermes, who with cunning art didst teach 
 
 Amphion's song to move the pebbly beach ; 
 
 And thou, my shell, whose seven-voiced silver speech 
 
 Delights the ear, 
 Right welcome now, though silent once and plain. 
 To gorgeous banquet-hall and holy fane, 
 A song upraise, that Lyde's cold disdain 
 
 Shall stoop to hear. 
 She, like some filly rising her third year. 
 Frisks o'er the broad green meads ; now here, now there. 
 Unused to handling, still too young too bear 
 
 A master's rein. 
 But wild beasts and weird forests own thy sway ; 
 Full rivers in mid torrent thou can'st stay ; 
 Hades' huge janitor, when thou didst play 
 
 A soothing strain. 
 
139 
 
 Gave back ; though round his head their hideous wreath 
 A hundred serpents wove, and wide beneath, 
 His triple jaws were reeking with foul breath, 
 
 And dripped with blood. 
 Ixion's features donned a ghastly smile ; 
 And Tityos ceased to moan ; and dry awhile. 
 For even the Danaids music could beguile. 
 
 Their pitchers stood. 
 The tale of crime and pain let Lyde know 
 Of those inhuman maidens ; tell her how 
 The water from the leaking tub doth flow. 
 
 As soon as poured : 
 How vengeance waits for sinners under ground. 
 Wretches ! for where could blacker guilt be found ? 
 Wretches ! who each durst deal the deadly wound 
 
 To her own lord. 
 One, only one deserved the torch of love. 
 Who to her perjured sire had heart to prove 
 Gloriously false : time, whilst his cycles move. 
 
 Her praise shall tell : 
 Who to her youthful spouse, " Arouse thee," cried, 
 " Lest from a source unthought of thee betide 
 The sleep that wakes not ; from my father hide, 
 
 And sisters fell, 
 
140 
 
 Who like she-lions, that have caught their prey, 
 Slay each her victim : I, more kind than they, 
 Will never take thy life ; nor bid thee stay 
 
 A prisoner here. 
 Me let my father load with slavery's chain. 
 Because with thy poor blood I would not stain 
 My hands ; or bid his fleet to Afric's plain, 
 
 His daughter bear. 
 Flee where thou wilt at once, o'er land or sea. 
 While Night and "Venus are propitious, flee. 
 Farewell ! but grave in memory of me 
 
 A record clear ! " 
 
141 
 
 12. %o fitohuU 
 
 Oh ! the misery of the maidens, who to love can ne'er give play, 
 Nor their wretchedness can venture with sweet wine to wash away, 
 Or must dread an uncle's scolding. Venus' winged boy from thee 
 Steals thy baskets and thy worsted, and Minerva's industry, 
 NeObule, 'neath the form of Liparaean Hebrus bright ; 
 When he bathes his shining shoulders in cool Tiber's waves at night. 
 He Bellerophon on horseback can excell, and in the lists 
 Yields the palm to ne'er a rival, in the foot-race or with fists. 
 Skilfully he strikes the wild deer, bounding frightened o'er the lea ; 
 And the boar in covert lurking none can draw as quick as he. 
 
143 
 
 13- ^0 a Jowntaiti 
 
 O FOUNT of Bandusia, crystal-clear, 
 
 Thou art worth a libation and flowery wreath ; 
 To-morrow, or ever his horns appear, 
 
 A kid in thy honour shall meet his death. 
 Love's earliest promptings he feels in vain, 
 
 And vainly he longs for the battle's shock : 
 His red life-blood shall thy clear stream stain, 
 
 Though he be the flower of the wanton flock. 
 From the fiercest heat of the dread dog-star 
 
 Thee greenwood coverts in safety keep : 
 Ever cool and refreshing thy shallows are 
 
 To the plough-tired oxen and wandering sheep. 
 Thou too among springs shalt be famous made, 
 
 When I sing the depths of thy cavern gray. 
 And the evergreen oak, from beneath whose shade 
 
 Thy chattering waters leap out to the day. 
 
143 
 
 14- ^0 the p,omait0 
 
 Fellow citizens, Csesar, who lately was said, 
 Like Alcides, to court the bay-wreath of the dead, 
 With the garland of conquest encircling his head. 
 
 Comes home o'er the water from Spain. 
 Go, bid the glad wife of so peerless a spouse. 
 When first to the gods for their mercies her vows 
 She has paid, with his sister, lead forth from his house 
 
 The solemn processional train 
 Of matrons, with suppliant fillets arrayed, 
 For their far-away children no longer afraid : 
 Let each boisterous youth and each newly-wed maid 
 
 From words of ill omen refrain. 
 This day all my trouble in festival high 
 Shall banish ; no civil commotion will I 
 Ever fear, nor a violent death to die, 
 
 With the world beneath Caesar's sword. 
 
144 
 
 Go^ boy, fetch rae unguents, and garlands bright, 
 And liquor as old as the Marsian fight, 
 If ever a cask has eluded the sight 
 
 Of Spartacus' wandering horde. 
 Bid the songstress Nesfera be quick and come round, 
 With her chestnut hair in a bow-knot bound ; 
 If her rascally porter obstructive be found. 
 
 Don't tarry, but have him in scorn. 
 When the frosts of age sprinkle one's hair with gray. 
 One loses one's zest for the fight and the fray : 
 In the bloom of hot manhood, in Plancus's day, 
 
 His behaviour I would not have borne. 
 
145 
 
 IS- 1o CklorJB 
 
 O THOU pernicious dame 
 Of penniless Ibycus, 'tis time to cease 
 
 Thy toilsome life of shame, 
 And make thee ready to depart in peace. 
 
 Shake not thy palsied foot 
 Amongst the girls ; nor sully with thy cloud 
 
 Their bright stars. What may suit 
 Pholoe, becomes not Chloris. To knock loud 
 
 At youthful noble's door, • 
 Like Thyiad maddened by the tambour's sound, 
 
 Beseems thy daughter more. 
 Who hke a roe for Nothus' love doth bound. 
 
 The silky wool that grows 
 Near rich Luceria, not the cittern's strain, 
 
 Is thine : the damask rose 
 Give up, nor strive the cask's last dregs to drain. 
 
 K 
 
146 
 
 i6. %a M'Xtznns 
 
 The baying hounds that never slept, — 
 
 The brazen tower, the doors of oak, — 
 Fair Danae would safe have kept 
 
 From midnight-prowling folk ; 
 If Jove and Venus had not mocked 
 
 Her timid sire, who kept the hold : 
 For gates were sure to be unlocked 
 
 To gods when turned to gold. 
 The trustiest squadrons gold can break ; 
 
 And rocks with mightier stroke divide 
 Than lightning-flash : for money's sake 
 
 Amphiaraiis died. 
 The Macedonian city-gates 
 
 Cleft through, and kings of rival tribes 
 O'ercame with gifts : Sea-potentates 
 
 Have been ensnared by bribes. 
 
147 
 
 With wealth's increase comes growth of care, 
 
 And thirst for more ; so I of right 
 My head on high refuse to bear, 
 Msecenas, noble knight. 
 The more a man denies himself, 
 
 The more heaven gives him. Naked, I 
 Desert their camp, who live for pelf. 
 
 To dwell with poverty : 
 More rich with what the great despise, 
 
 Than if I threshed on my barn-floor 
 The wheat-crops of Apulian skies, 
 
 'Mid princely splendour poor. 
 A purling brook, a little wood, 
 
 A never-failing field of grain, 
 Are more to me than all the good 
 
 Of Afric's fruitful plain. 
 Not mine are Formian wines to keep ; 
 
 Not mine Calabria's honey-bee ; 
 The fleeces of Gaul's fatted sheep 
 Are never shorn for me. 
 Yet want it is not mine to know. 
 
 If more I asked, you'd not refuse : 
 I like to keep my wishes low. 
 
 And so have more to use 
 
148 
 
 Than if two continents were mine : 
 
 Whoe'er wants much, finds much to want. 
 They're blest, to whom the powers divine 
 What just sufiices grant. 
 
149 
 
 17- 1^0 ^zlhw lEatnta 
 
 Lamia, whose noble name derives, — 
 Through ancestors renowned of old. 
 Whose fame, by our forefathers told, 
 
 In Latium's mindful annals lives, ' 
 
 From Lamus, — who was first to reign 
 O'er Formiae's sea-beaten walls. 
 And where to sea slow Liris falls 
 
 Through low Minturnae's swampy plain, 
 
 A mighty prince ; — to-morrow's morn 
 
 Shall see the shore with sea-weed strewed, 
 And carpeted with leaves the wood, 
 
 By Eurus' blustering tempest shorn, 
 
 Unless the boding crew deceive ; 
 
 Then all thy dry wood pile to-day ; 
 To-morrow to thy slaves for play 
 
 And to thyself for feasting leave. 
 
ISO 
 
 i8. %a Jattnius 
 
 Bold Faun, who lovest the Nymphs who fly, 
 When my sunny homestead thou comest nigh 
 Come gently, and look on its progeny, 
 
 Ere thou goest, with kindly eyes. 
 So at each year's end a young kid shall die ; 
 And generous wines shall the cup supply 
 That Venus loves ; and the smoke on high 
 
 From thy time-honoured shrine shall rise. 
 In the bright green meadows the herds shall play, 
 When the nones of December bring back thy day, 
 And the village be decked in its festive array. 
 
 And the oxen have nought to do. 
 'Mongst the lambs unfrighted the wolf shall stray; 
 And the greenwood strew thee a leafy way : 
 On the turf, that he hateth, the delver gay 
 
 Shall foot it the evening through. 
 
151 
 
 19- ^0 l^dcphus 
 
 The relationship Inachus bore 
 To Codrus, who offered himself for his country with joy; 
 
 And ^acus' family lore 
 And who fought with whom 'neath the god-founded ramparts of Troy, 
 
 You can tell to a nicety. Where 
 I can buy a good cask of Greek wine, and for what : where to go 
 
 From the chilly Pelignian air, 
 And hire a warm lodging, or get a hot bath, you don't know. 
 
 Boy, fill the first glass to the Moon ; 
 The second to Midnight, the third to Mursena, our host. 
 
 Let each of us drink to the tune 
 Of three or of nine measures, as it may please him the most 
 
 He who loves the harmonious Nine 
 In a bumper to each his poetical phrenzy will show : 
 
 While the graces, who bare arms entwine, 
 Will forbid their adorers beyond the third beaker to go. 
 
152 
 
 Lest the revel should end in the fray. 
 'Tis a treat to be quit of one's senses ; but wherefore so mute 
 
 Is the Phrygian viol to-day ? 
 Why hangs the pipe dumb on the wall by the voiceless lute? 
 
 A niggardly hand I abhor : 
 Come, scatter your roses ; let Lycus grow jealous to hear 
 
 The sound of our merry uproar, 
 And the beautiful fury whose temper costs Lycus so dear. 
 
 Enticed by the odorous charms 
 Of your clustering curls on a forehead as Hesperus pure. 
 
 Your Rhoda will rush to your arms, 
 While Glycera's smiles my sedater affections allure. 
 
153 
 
 20. %o f jjrrhus 
 
 Say ! Pyrrhus, d'you know what a risk you incur, 
 
 The Libyan lioness' cubs to stir ? 
 
 You may steal them ; but after a battle with her 
 
 You'll betake you discomfited home. 
 When she through the striplings' opposing train 
 Stalks seeking her lovely Nearchus in vain, 
 The strife will be fierce, whether yours shall remain 
 
 The booty, or hers become. 
 While you to your bowstring the swift arrows set 
 In a flurry, her terrible teeth she'll whet ; 
 Whilst the prize of the struggle lies poisfed yet 
 
 'Neath the umpire's naked sole : 
 And the breeze fans lightly his shoulders bare, 
 Or lifts the curls of his scented hair, 
 And he looks like Nireus, or him more fair 
 
 Whom the eagle from Ida stole. 
 
154 
 
 21. 1^0 a (Eajsk 
 
 Honest Cask, that thy summers dost reckon with me 
 From Manlius' consulship, whether thy mind 
 Plaintive, or glad, or angry be, 
 Or full of mad love, or to slumber inclined ; 
 Whatever thy vein, thou art fit, jolly cask 
 Of old wine, to be broached for a f^te ; and my friend 
 Corvinus comes, and deigns to ask 
 For my mellowest liquor ; so thou must descend. 
 
 He'll ne'er have the heart to withstand, though his head 
 Be brimful of Plato, those juices of thine. 
 Full oft the rugged worth, 'tis said. 
 Of old-fashioned Cato grew warm with good wine. 
 The hardest of natures are softened by thee 
 With thy gentle compulsion ; the plans of the wise 
 Thou barest, for the world to see ; 
 Till the counsel most hidden discovered lies. 
 
IS5 
 
 To the mind sick with trouble thou givest sweet Hope ; 
 And Courage and Strength to the poor man again ; 
 He quaffs thee, and feels fit to cope ^ 
 With the frown of a king and the swords of his train. 
 While Liber presides, lovely Venus with song, 
 And the Graces, their girdles who put not away. 
 And lamplight, shall the feast prolong, 
 Till the stars shall grow dim in the dawning of day. 
 
iS6 
 
 22. %o liana 
 
 Great Virgin, tliree-in-one, whose love 
 Keeps watch and ward o'er hill and grove ; 
 Who, three-times called, dost matrons heed. 
 And save in hour of direst need : 
 Close by my home thy pine shall stand. 
 And, year by year, my gladsome hand 
 Its roots with young boar's blood shall soak, 
 That ne'er hath dealt the sidelong stroke. 
 
157 
 
 23. ^a IhibBk 
 
 If at new-morn thy hands to heaven thou Hft, 
 My rastic Phidyle, and thy hearth-gods gift 
 
 With frankincense, and this year's grain, 
 
 And a young porker newly slain, 
 Thy fruitful vines shall 'scape their withering foe 
 The Libyan wind ; no blight thy corn-fields know ; 
 
 Thy foster-children need not fear 
 
 In apple-time the waning year. 
 Where Algidus gleams white with snow, there feeds 
 'Mongst oaks and holUes, or in Alba's meads, 
 
 The spotless bull, devoted beast. 
 
 To stain the axe of the high-priest 
 With his life-blood. Thou need'st not from thy folds 
 Drag forth the fattest of the two-year-olds : 
 
 But crown'st in peace thy lesser gods 
 
 With rosemary, and myrtle rods. 
 
iS8 
 
 They, if the hand be clean that lights the fire, 
 No costly sacrifice of thee requite ; 
 
 But crackling salt, and wheaten flour, 
 Will melt to ruth their angered power. 
 
159 
 
 24- ;^gaiitst Miezxs 
 
 E'en though thou wealthier be 
 Than unspoiled Araby, or gorgeous Ind; 
 
 Though with thy masonry 
 Th' Etruscan and Apulian seas be lined : 
 
 If dire necessity 
 Her nails of adamant for thy pride prepare, 
 
 Thy heart shall never flee 
 Her terrors ; nor thy head her fatal snare. 
 
 Scythians more wisely do, 
 Whose homes across their steppes rude waggons bear ; 
 
 Or the cold Getae, who 
 On unfenced acres wheaten harvests rear 
 
 From the prolific soil ; 
 And, when the year is over, move away. 
 
 There, for the old who toil ' 
 No more, the younger work and ask no pay : 
 
i6o 
 
 No cruel stepdame there 
 Stirs for her husband's sons the poisoned bowl ; 
 
 Nor lists false lover's prayer, 
 Nor, purse-proud, holds her lord in her control. 
 
 Their parents spotless fame 
 Serves maidens there for dower, and Honesty, 
 
 That hates wrong's very name. 
 And counts it shame to sin and not to die. 
 
 Oh ! if there be alive 
 One, who our bloody civil war would quell. 
 
 To vanquish let him strive 
 Our boundless license : many a bust shall tell 
 
 His deeds ; and to all time 
 Him, " Father of the Cities," shall make known. 
 
 For envy (ah ! the crime !) 
 Well-doers hates when present, lauds when gone. 
 
 Can lamentations aught. 
 If vice be left to go unharmed, avail ? 
 
 With morals, fever-fraught, 
 Can empty statutes o'er the plague prevail. 
 
 When neither torrid zone. 
 Nor Boreas' distant home where frost-bound snow 
 
 And ice reign all alone, 
 Can drive away the trader ? Sailors go 
 
i6i 
 
 Triumphant o'er the wave : 
 The deep disgrace of poverty can make 
 
 Man every peril brave : 
 Yet Virtue's rugged path we all forsake. 
 
 If truly we repent 
 Our misdeeds, let our gems, and precious stones, 
 
 And useless gold be sent. 
 That bred the wrong, to deck the great gods' thrones. 
 
 While all the people shout 
 Applause ; or let us cast them to the sea. 
 
 And by the roots dig out 
 The growth of evil greed. Our sons must be 
 
 In manlier practice taught 
 Of mind and body. Now our gentle boys 
 
 Of horsemanship know nought ; 
 And dread the hunting-field ; but like the noise 
 
 Of the Greeks' jingling hoop ; 
 Or love to throw the law-forbidden dice : 
 
 And perjured fathers stoop 
 To cheat their partners, or their guests, with lies. 
 
 In eagerness to store 
 Wealth for their worthless heirs : but though they get 
 
 Huge piles of ill-won ore, 
 A something to be gained is lacking yet. 
 
 L 
 
l62 
 
 25. ^0 ISarchujs 
 
 God of the grape ! say where, 
 Filled with thy spirit, I am hurrying. 
 
 Past groves and caverns drear,' 
 At such wild speed. What grot shall hear me sing 
 
 Illustrious Csesar's praise ? 
 Him 'midst the starry choir with Jove to reign 
 
 In deathless state I'll raise. 
 Chanting a new, sublime, mysterious strain. 
 
 Thy priestess from the hills 
 On snow-clad Thrace bends her weird sleepless gaze. 
 
 And Hebrus' ice-bound rills. 
 And Rhodope, where the lawless hunter strays. 
 
 So I rejoice to view 
 The silent woods and river banks. Great lord 
 
 Of all the Naiad crew, 
 Who.se arms can root huge ash-trees from the sward. 
 
163 
 
 No mortal minstrelsy, 
 Nor common, fires me. Sweet the danger grows, 
 
 Bacchus ! to follow thee, 
 The god that bind'st with sprigs of vine thy brows. 
 
t64 
 
 26. ^0 l^nujs 
 
 In the lists of the ladies my life to spend 
 I delighted of late ; and with honour I warred. 
 But now I must hang up my lute and my sword, 
 For my battles have come to an end. 
 So here on the wall, close to Venus's side. 
 The seaborn, her innermost temple to grace, 
 The torches and crowbars and catapults place, 
 That resistance were wont to deride. 
 Oh ! goddess ! who reignest o'er Cyprus's isle. 
 And Memphis, where Thracian snows never fall. 
 With thy queenly lash touch once for all 
 Proud Chloe, who scorns to smile. 
 
i6s 
 
 27. %a Galatea 
 
 When the wicked go forth, let the chattering jay, 
 And the pregnant bitch, and the she-wolf gray 
 From Lanuvium's hill-sides, show them the way, 
 
 And the fox that has cubs in her home : 
 Like a shaft from the string, let the crossing snake 
 Their horses alarm, and their journey break. 
 I, perhaps too timid, for thy sweet sake 
 
 An anxious augur become. 
 Before the bird-prophet of stormy days 
 Betakes her at morn to her stagnant bays, 
 The vocal crow by my prayers will raise 
 
 From his home with the rising sun. 
 Wherever thou wilt, may'st thou fortunate be ! 
 And oh ! Galatea, be mindful of me. 
 Thy path may the ominous magpie flee ! 
 
 The hindering raven shun ! 
 
i66 
 
 But Orion, thou seest, in a storm-troubled track 
 Is setting. What Adria's bosom so black 
 Portends, and lapyx's white cloud-rack, 
 
 Too surely, alas ! I know. 
 May our enemies' children and wives deplore 
 The unseen earthquakes, the dark sea's roar, 
 That come with the rising goat ; and the shore 
 
 That trembles with each wave-blow. 
 'Twas enticed by just such a treacherous lull 
 That her beauteous form to the wily bull 
 Europa dared trust, then, in mid sea full 
 
 Of ocean-monsters grim. 
 Lost courage : just now, for the Nymphs to twine 
 A crown, she was plucking the flowerets fine 
 In the meadows ; but nought save the stars and the brine 
 
 Could she see in the twilight dim. 
 And as soon as she stood on the shingly side 
 Of Crete with her hundred towns, " Father,'' she cried, 
 " A daughter's duty, a daughter's pride 
 
 In madness of heart I have left. 
 Where am I ? Where was I ? One death were nought 
 To a life of dishonour. In waking thought 
 Am I mourning o'er horrible infamy wrought ? 
 
 Or, escaped from some unseen cleft 
 
i67 
 
 In the ivory gates, does an empty dream 
 My innocence guiltiness make to seem ? 
 Was it pleasanter stemming the ocean stream, 
 
 Or picking the flowers on the green ? 
 If somebody now to my wrath would give 
 That infamous bull, not an hour should he live ; 
 I'd stab him all over, to shatter I'd strive 
 
 The horns that I petted yestreen. 
 Ah ! shameless I left the dear shelter of home : 
 Ah ! shameless I die not. Oh would that some 
 Of the gods would hear me, and bid me roam 
 
 Among famishing lions alone. 
 Let tigers feast on my tender flesh, 
 While the blood beats full in its red vein-mesh, 
 And my cheeks are plump, and my colour is fresh, 
 
 Ere my beauty is faded and gone. 
 Vile girl, who delayest thyself to slay. 
 My father is crying from far, far away, 
 It is well that thy girdle thou wearest to-day, 
 
 It will hang thee on yonder ash-tree. 
 Here are rocks right sharp upon which to fling 
 Thy body ; or else to the whirlwind's wing 
 Commit thee ; unless with the blood of a king 
 
 Thou preferrest a slave to be. 
 
i68 
 
 And to spin at the beck of a mistress rude 
 Thy task of wool." In her plaintive mood. 
 With a false smile Venus before her stood, 
 
 And Cupid without his bow. 
 And, spoke, when tired of the mocking vein, 
 " Thy anger and words of abuse restrain. 
 The bull, that thou hatest, shall tender again 
 
 His horns to thy vengeful blow. 
 With invincible Jove thou art fated to wive. 
 Nay, sob not ; but fortune so marvellous strive 
 To beseem : for its own, while the earth shall survive. 
 
 Thy name shall a continent know." 
 
169 
 
 28. %o fgbc 
 
 What better could I do 
 On Neptune's day? Fetch, Lyde, from its cell 
 
 The Caecuban : we two 
 Will take by force fenced wisdom's citadel. 
 
 As if the day stood still, 
 And yet you know how few short hours survive. 
 
 You dawdle ; haste and fill 
 Our flagon from the cask of 'ninety-five. 
 
 Alternately we'll sing, 
 I Neptune's praises, and the Nereid's hair 
 
 You, to the lyre's sweet string, 
 Latona, and her Cynthian huntress fair ; 
 
 Then both at once we'll chant 
 Her who, in swan-drawn car the Cyclads bright 
 
 And Paphos loves to haunt ; 
 And finish with a solemn hymn to Night. 
 
170 
 
 29- 1:0 M^ctnm 
 
 Worthy son of Etruria's monarchs, for thee 
 A cask of right mellow wine, ne'er broached before, 
 With juices of the balsam tree 
 And chapjets of roses, has long been in store. 
 
 Away with delay then ; nor frustrate my hopes. 
 Nor always on watery Tivoli gaze, 
 And ^sulae's well-cultured slopes 
 And the parricide's hills, for the rest of thy days. 
 
 The wealth that breeds loathing give up for a while. 
 And thy watchtower piercing the clouds with its dome 
 Withdraw, a little space, thy smile 
 From the smoke, and the noise, and the riches of Rome. 
 A change to a rich man is often a treat ; 
 And to sup on a cottager's humble fare 
 Where tapestried couch or velvet seat 
 Appear not, has smoothed the brow wrinkled with care. 
 
171 
 
 Now Andromeda's father his dull fire shows ; 
 And fierce in the east gleam Procyon's rays : 
 And in the house of Leo glows 
 The midsummer sun bringing thirsty days. 
 
 The panting flocks to the wood-shadowed lands 
 And the streamlets follow their weary hinds 
 Of rough Silvanus ; and the sands 
 Lie silent for lack of the wandering winds. 
 
 The means, o'er the crowds of the city due ward 
 And watch to maintain, thou art pondering on ; 
 What Bactrian king, or Tartar horde 
 May be compassing, or irrepressible Don. 
 
 But the gods, in their wisdom, in clouds of the night 
 And unsearchable darkness the future hide ; 
 And smile, when mortals fed affright 
 More than needful. Remember, what is to provide 
 With calmness. The rest like a river will be. 
 That to-day in its channel with never a curl 
 Glides smoothly to th' Etruscan sea. 
 To-morrow in one indescribable whirl 
 
 Trees, boulders, and dwellings will hurry along. 
 And bellowing herds, while the neighbouring hills 
 And woods the deafening roar prolong. 
 When the hurricane swelleth the Apennine rills. 
 
1^2 
 
 I'ull lord of himself, he shall wend on his way 
 In happiness, who, ere he layeth him down 
 To rest, can say, " I've Hvcd to-day, 
 Whether Jove with the dawning from thunder-cl»uds frown, 
 Or brighten the heaven with an undimmed sun. 
 For all that is past even he has- not power 
 To render void, nor make undone 
 The joys, that have fled with the fugitive hour." 
 Dame Fortune takes pleasure in cruelty still, 
 And plays without pity her insolent play ; 
 She changes honours at her will, 
 Kind to me over-night, to another to-day : 
 
 While she tarries, I praise her : but calmly resign 
 Her gifts, when she spreads her wide pinions and flies : 
 My honesty shall still be mine. 
 Though my portionless pathway in poverty lies. 
 It is nothing to me if the main-mast creak 
 With the squally sirocco : with abject prayers 
 Heaven's aid it is not mine to seek, 
 Lest Tyre's or Cyprus's priceless wares 
 
 Should further enrich the unsatisfied sea. 
 In my pair-oared skiff through the seething wave 
 A gentle breeze shall carry me, 
 And the twin star-brothers my boat shall save. 
 
173 
 
 30. Jl Pro|rh.ci:2 
 
 A MONUMENT more durable than brass 
 
 Is mine ; than kingly pyramids more vast : 
 One that nor countless ages, as they pass, 
 
 Nor rotting wet, nor winter's howling blast 
 Shall e'er pull down, nor time's swift flight undo. 
 
 Not all of me shall die ; some part shall still 
 Escape the grave. With praises ever new. 
 
 My fame shall grow, whilst up the sacred hill 
 The pontiff with the silent virgin goes. 
 
 Where Daunus o'er his thirsty country-folk 
 Bare rule, where Aufidus wild-foaming flows, 
 
 I shall be sung ; the first who dared to yoke 
 Greek measures to the words of Italy ; 
 
 Till the poor poet's name get great renown. 
 Then take the proud bay-wreath, Melpomene, 
 
 And joy to bind my brows with merit's crown. 
 
ODES 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
177 
 
 1. ^0 Icntis 
 
 What ! Venus, once again 
 Wakest thou war, where long there has been peace ? 
 
 Since beauteous Cinara's reign 
 I am an altered man. I pray thee, cease, 
 
 Fierce mother of sweet love. 
 Too tough to bend beneath thy silken sway 
 
 My fifty years will prove. 
 Hark ! how the youngsters call for thee ! Away ! 
 
 More worth thy while it were 
 To take thy bright-winged swans to Paulus' house. 
 
 With all thy festive gear, 
 If thou art bent a worthy heart to rouse. 
 
 His looks and race are good. 
 His tongue an anxious client well can shield ; 
 
 His youth and talents would 
 
 Suffice to bear thy colours far a-field. 
 M 
 
178 
 
 If by thy powerful grace 
 Triumphant o'er a rival's gifts he prove, 
 
 By Alba's lake he'll place 
 Thy form in marble, 'neath the citron grove : 
 
 There incense to the skies 
 Shall ever float ; there shall the pipe and lyre 
 
 Mingle their melodies 
 With Berecynthian flute, and vocal choir : 
 
 There every morn and night 
 Shall youths and maidens fair, who praise the while 
 
 Thy power, with feet snow-white 
 A three-time measure tread in Salian style. 
 
 Love lives no more for me, 
 Nor hope, too quick to trust to mutual vows. 
 
 The brimming bowl I flee, 
 And bind no more with fresh-culled flowers my brows. 
 
 Yet, Ligurinus, why 
 Does one salt tear sometimes steal down my cheek? 
 
 Why does so awkwardly 
 My tongue keep silence when my lips would speak ? 
 
 'Tis that in dreams at night 
 I hold thee ca.ught, or still to follow seem 
 
 Thy unrelenting flight 
 O'er the green field of Mars, or down the rolling stream. 
 
179 
 
 2. 'W'O ^ntonins Inlns 
 
 If ever a poet, lulus, should try 
 
 To rival old Pindar ; like Icarus, he 
 On pinions of wax through the welkin would fly, 
 
 His name to bequeath to the glassy sea. 
 Like a swollen stream on the mountain side, 
 
 That toppeth his banks with the fresh-fallen shower, 
 In a boiling torrent flows Pindar's tide. 
 
 In volume unmeasured, and depth, and power. 
 To him shall be given Apollo's bays ; 
 
 Whether now, to the daring dithyramb's roll, 
 His fluent tongue utter love's passionate lays. 
 
 Unshackled by metrical law's control : 
 Or of gods, and of heroes the prowess he tell. 
 
 Worthy sons of immortals, before whose might 
 In single combat the Centaurs fell, 
 
 And the fiery Chimsera was slain in fight ; 
 
t8o 
 
 Or the athlete chant, or the noble steed, 
 
 Whom the palm of the gods from Elis' down 
 Sends conqueror home, and endow with a meed 
 
 Than a hundred statues of higher renown : 
 Or weep o'er the young groom hurried away 
 
 From his sobbing bride, and extol to the skies 
 His manly strength, and his winning way ; 
 
 And grudge black Orcus his early prize. 
 The breath of divinity, Antony, lifts 
 
 The sweet swan of Dirce, when up to the sky 
 He soareth aloft through the dark cloud-drifts ; 
 
 Like the busy bee of Matinus I, — 
 Who round Tibur's banks and her river-girt wood 
 
 The honey extracts from the savoury thyme 
 With infinite trouble, — in weary mood 
 
 Endeavour to fashion my humble rhyme. 
 But thou art a singer of nobler quill. 
 
 And shalt herald victorious Csesar's renown, 
 When he drags the fierce Gaul up the Capitol hill. 
 
 And wears on his forehead the well-earned crown. 
 Nothing greater or better the good gods have given. 
 
 Or Fate, to the earth, nor can ever give. 
 Than Cssar, though mortal things vanish in heaven, 
 
 And the much-vaunted ages of gold should revive. 
 
The games in the circus, the festival days 
 
 For Augustus' return with a conqueror's spoils, 
 And our prayers accomplished, thy notes shall praise, 
 
 And the forum once free from its usual broils. 
 Then I, if my voice can be heard in the crowd. 
 
 Will join in the chorus of jubilant song. 
 That hails the fair morning v/ith anthems loud 
 
 When Caesar comes home from his wanderings long. 
 And, whilst you pass on, all the city with cries 
 
 Of glad gratulation, again and again, 
 Shall cheer to the echo ; while up to the skies 
 
 Rich incense shall curl from each garlanded fane. 
 For thee, my lulus, ten bulls and ten cows 
 
 Will be. a fit gift : in the sweet grass at home 
 There sports a young calf, who shall pay for my vows. 
 
 Just fresh from the side of his mother he's come. 
 In the form of the moon, when her silvery beams 
 
 Scarce three days old in the west go down, 
 A crescent of snow on his broad brow gleams : 
 
 The rest of his smooth soft skin is brown. 
 
3 82 
 
 3. 1^0 Jttelpomcne 
 
 When thou, Melpomene, 
 Look'st on a new-born babe with kindly eyes, 
 
 He will not famous be 
 [n Corinth's feats of strength ; nor win the prize, 
 
 How fleet soe'er his horse, 
 In th' Isthmian race ; nor crowned with laurel ride 
 
 Up the triumphal course. 
 For having humbled the o'erweening pride 
 
 Of some barbaric king. 
 On him the streams that flow through Tivoli, 
 
 The waving woods of spring. 
 Confer the bays that guerdon minstrelsy. 
 
 Rome, queen of cities, deigns 
 To count me with her poet-choir ; her youth 
 
 Applaud my modest strains : 
 And now I live unharmed by Envy's tooth. 
 
i83 
 
 O thou, who dost contrive 
 To wake sweet music from thy golden shell ; 
 
 Who to dumb fish canst give 
 Notes that the death-song of the swan excel ; 
 
 From thee my honours come : 
 'Tis of thy grace that passers point at me, 
 
 The lyric bard of Rome. 
 All that I have and am I owe to thee. 
 
1 84 
 
 4. Praise of 'Mxnsns fizxo 
 
 Like the eagle, who beareth the bolts of the levin, 
 
 And, having proved trusty with Ganymede fair, 
 Was invested by Jupiter, monarch of heaven, 
 
 With sovereign control of the birds of the air. — 
 First the impulse of youth and inherited vigour 
 
 New labours to try send him forth from the nest, 
 And spring's balmy breezes, that thaw winter's rigour, 
 
 To efforts unwonted encourage his breast; 
 And he trembles at first; then with practice grown riper 
 
 He swoops on the fold with impetuous flight ; 
 And fears not to challenge the venomous viper 
 
 For the mingled attraction of banquet and fight. — 
 Like the cub of the lioness, fresh from the weaning, 
 
 Yestreen from the dug of his tawny dam fed, 
 Whom the kid in the meadow, the tender grass gleaning. 
 
 Just looks on with terror-glazed eye, and is dead. — 
 
i85 
 
 Like these on his war-path the Rhoetian Vandals 
 
 Saw Drusus invading their Alp-shadowed tracks, 
 Whose right hand from lime immemorial handles, 
 
 I cannot tell wherefore, the Amazon's axe. 
 One can't be expected t' account for their manners. 
 
 But tribes, who our arms had long ventured to flout. 
 And to flaunt far and wide their victorious banners. 
 
 By the plans of a stripling were put to the rout : 
 And learned that descent from a long line of heroes. 
 
 And fortunate training of blood that is blue. 
 Never prove unavailing ; and what for the Neroes 
 
 The fatherly care of Augustus could do. 
 The brave and the good from like sires are descended ; 
 
 In oxen and horses we constantly prove 
 How the traits of the old stock for ever are blended : 
 
 Fierce eagles beget not the peaceable dove. 
 But, fair though the seed be of Nature's implanting. 
 
 To strengthen its young growth, and bring it to prime, 
 Right nurture is needed ; where this has been wanting, 
 
 Its absence too often is followed by crime. 
 Ah ! Rome, what a debt to the Neroes thou owest, 
 
 Metaurus, and Hasdrubal beaten can tell : 
 When forth from the dark clouds, that seemed at their lowest, 
 
 The beams of bright sunshine on Italy fell. 
 
i86 
 
 'Twas our first ray of hope, since from city to city 
 
 The fell foeman rode through the length of the land ; 
 Like a fire through the pines, like the storm without pity 
 
 That wrecks the mad breakers on Sicily's strand. 
 From that day to this Fate has steadily lavished 
 
 The sweets of success on the toils of our men ; 
 And the temples, that Punic barbarity ravished. 
 
 Have welcomed their gods to their altars again. 
 Till at last faithless Hannibal muttered in anger, 
 
 '' Like stags gone a-hunting, we're falling a prey 
 To a pack oi grim wolves ; and the least of the danger 
 
 Is in hope from their fangs to get safely away. 
 The bold race, who leaving their Ilium burning. 
 
 Their children and parents along with them bore, 
 And o'er the rough waters insisted on turning 
 
 Their prows to the unknown Ausonian shore ; 
 Like the holm-oak, that scorning the bill-hook still tosses 
 
 Her dark boughs to heaven on Algidus' brow. 
 Are thriving by slaughter ; they gain by their losses ; 
 
 And gather fresh strength from each damaging blow. 
 They are worse than the hydra that, oft cut in sunder, 
 
 Nigh wearied the sinews of Hercules' arm : 
 Neither Colchis nor Thebes ever bred such a wonder ; 
 
 Of defeat so unconscious, so greedy of harm. 
 
i87 
 
 Sunken down to the depths they emerge but the fairer, 
 
 Thrown hard in the wrestle they rise from the ground 
 Like conquerors, ready for triumphs still rarer, 
 
 Whose praises the tongues of their wives shall resound. 
 Ambassadors proud to repeat the glad story 
 
 Of conquest to Carthage no more shall I send : 
 All dreams of ambition, all fond hopes of glory 
 
 Have perished for ever with Hasdrubal's end. 
 There is nothing too hard for the Claudian merit, 
 
 Whose race has been dowered with a fortunate star 
 By Jove, whom the prudence and skill they inherit, 
 • Ever save from the uttermost stresses of war." 
 
5- '^0 Augustus 
 
 O SCION of great gods, thou too long away, 
 Best guardian of Romulus' people, dost stay. 
 Thy promise fulfil, and with no more delay 
 
 To the holy assembly return. 
 To thy country, good leader, restore thy light ; 
 Like the coming of spring, when thy face's siglit 
 Has shone on our people, the days are more bright, 
 
 And the suns more pleasantly burn. 
 As a mother her child, whom the jealous breeze 
 Of the south-wind keeps beyond Carpathus' seas 
 For more than a twelvemonth, in spite of her pleas, 
 
 Far, far from his home's dear walls, 
 With entreaties, and omens, and vows doth implore ; 
 Nor shifteth her gaze from the shelving shore ; 
 So, with fond regretfulness smitten sore, 
 
 His country on Cssar calls. 
 
189 
 
 For safe in the meadows the oxen graze, 
 And Ceres and Plenty the field-crops raise, 
 And the white sails flutter o'er stormless bays, 
 
 And Honesty knoweth no stain. 
 No pure home by orgies of vice is defiled ; 
 For Statute and Habit foul crime have killed. 
 The father is seen in the new-born child ; 
 
 And Wrong for her comrade hath Pain. 
 The Parthian and Scythian hordes who fears ? 
 Or the woad-tinted sons whom wild Germany rears ? 
 With Caesar in safety, who cares for the spears 
 
 Of the Spaniard on Ebro's brink ? 
 On our own hill sides we all finish the day, 
 And new vines to the widower elms we lay, 
 Then over our cups in the gloaming grey 
 
 To thee, as a god, we drink. 
 With many a prayer and libation, poured 
 From the brimming saucers, we hail thee lord ! 
 As in olden time Castor in Greece adored 
 
 And Hercules used to be. 
 " Ah ! long, very long be the years of calm rest 
 That thou givest, great chief, to our land of the West," 
 Say we, sober at dawn, and with wine-gladdened breast. 
 
 When the sun has gone under the sea. 
 
190 
 
 6. 1^0 JlpoUo 
 
 Hail ! thou whose just anger the braggart crew 
 Of Niobe's children, and Tityos knew ; 
 And Phthian Achilles, who nigh overthrew 
 
 The walls that the gods helped to rear. 
 All the rest he could quell, yet was no match for thee ; 
 Though his mother was Thetis, the child of the sea. 
 And the towers of old Dardanus shuddered, when he 
 
 Approached with his true-flying spear. 
 Like a pine tree that yields to the hatchet's keen bite. 
 Like a cypress uptorn by the east-wind's might. 
 He fell in his strength, and his neck snowy-white 
 
 Was soiled in the dust of Troy. 
 His never had been the false spirit to deign 
 That horse to Minerva a present to feign. 
 And to turn into weeping the holiday strain 
 
 Of Priam's untimely joy. 
 
191 
 
 But, with open vengeance, his pitiless ire 
 Had thrown to the flames of the Grecian fire 
 Every infant son of a Trojan sire, 
 
 To the babe in its mother's womb : 
 If Jove had not bent an assenting ear 
 To thee, and to Venus, his favourite dear. 
 And allowed to ^neas the right to rear 
 
 A city of happier doom. 
 O riiou ! who the lute to Thalia didst teach, 
 Who lavest thy ringlets in Xanthus' reach. 
 Stand up for the honour of Daunia's speech, 
 
 Fair god of the way-side fires. 
 From thee have I gotten the sacred flame. 
 And the poet's skill, and the poet's name. 
 Ye noble virgins, ye youths who claim 
 
 The lineage of knightly sires ; 
 Ye wards of the Delian goddess, whose bow 
 Speeds swift-winged death to the lynx and the roe ; 
 On the metre of Lesbos due patience bestow ; 
 
 To my touch on the lyre attend ; 
 While you do your endeavour to honour aright 
 Latona's son, and the Queen of night. 
 Whose silvery beams save the harvests from blight 
 
 As tjje summer months onward wend. 
 
192 
 
 When anon you are wed, you'll be happy to say, 
 " It was I, on the century's festival day. 
 Who sang to the great gods the jubilant lay 
 Of Horace, my tutor and friend." 
 
193 
 
 7. %o M^nlins %ovqu^tns 
 
 The snows have fled : green grows again the grass, 
 
 The trees don verdure new : 
 Earth changes guise ; the rivers as they pass 
 
 Leave higher banks to view. 
 The Nymphs and Graces three, with bosoms bare. 
 
 Lead out their dances gay. 
 " Hope not for deathless things," thus warns the year, 
 
 And th' hour that ends sweet day. 
 Spring zephyrs melt the frosts : Spring fades away 
 
 In summer's short-lived noon : 
 Rich Autumn yields her fruits ; and, well-a-day ! 
 
 Dull Winter comes too soon. 
 The Moon's waned crescent soon again will swell ; 
 
 We, when we reach the shore. 
 Where good ^neas, Tullus, Ancus dwell. 
 
 Are dust and shade, — no more. 
 
194 
 
 Who knows if the great gods to him will spare 
 
 To-morrow as to-day ? 
 What thou hast hoarded from thy grasping heir 
 
 Will quickly pass away. 
 When once thou'rt dead, when once from yonder bank 
 
 Dread Minos speaks thy doom ; 
 Manlius, no worth, no eloquence, no rank, 
 
 Can call thee from the tomb. 
 From that deep darkness Dian cannot take 
 
 Hippolytus again. 
 Nor aught does Theseus' strength avail to break 
 
 His loved Pirithous' chain. 
 
195 
 
 8. i:tr dtaitts J^arciuB €znsaxinnsi 
 
 From the depth of my heart, Censorinus, I wish 
 
 I could offer my friends some elaborate dish 
 
 Of bronze, or a tripod, like those the Greeks gave 
 
 To the heroes of battle ; then you should not have 
 
 The poorest of presents : if only I too 
 
 Could do, as Parrhasius and Scopas could do : 
 
 Who, one in cold marble, the other in paint, 
 
 Were skilled, now a man, now a god to present. 
 
 But I have not the talent for this ; and, indeed, 
 
 Such luxuries you neither care for, nor need. 
 
 Your pleasure is song ; and a song I can turn : 
 
 And the worth of my gift, if you listen, you'll learn. 
 
 Not all the inscriptions on pillars of stone. 
 
 Though they seem to give life to the good who are gone ; 
 
 Nor Hannibal when from our country he fled, 
 
 After hurling his curse at his conqueror's head ; 
 
196 
 
 Nor impious Carthage in ashes ; proclaim 
 
 The glory of him, to whom Africa's name 
 
 Was added, his victory's sign and reward, 
 
 As well as the songs of Calabria's bard. 
 
 If paper said nothing, you never could get 
 
 The fair guerdon of merit; the world would forget 
 
 The son of the War-god and Rhea to-day. 
 
 If envious silence had stood in his way. 
 
 The favouring tongue of great singers could take 
 
 Good ^acus out of the Stygian lake 
 
 To the isles of the blest. 'Tis the right of the Muse 
 
 The names of the just to pale Death to refuse, 
 
 And to make them immortal. Thus Hercules lies. 
 
 The companion of Jove, at the feasts of the skies : 
 
 Thus the bright star of Tyndarus' twin sons can keep 
 
 Storm-battered ships safe from the jaws of the deep : 
 
 Thus Liber, with vine-twigs encircling his brow. 
 
 Can hearken and prosper his votary's vow. 
 
197 
 
 9- %o f oUius 
 
 Think not these lays of mine will soon be dead, 
 Which in a style unprecedented I, 
 
 Near Aufidus' wild echoes bred, 
 
 Have wedded to strange minstrelsy. 
 Though Lydian Homer reign the king of song, 
 Still Pindar, and Simonides are known ; 
 
 Alcaeus of the scolding tongue. 
 
 And grave Stesichorus' solemn tone 
 Live yet. Whate'er of old Anacreon sang 
 Time spoileth not : the love so measureless 
 
 Breathes now, with which the lute-strings rang 
 
 Of Lesbos' burning poetess. 
 Not Spartan Helen only fell in love 
 With a seducer's sunHt golden hair. 
 
 And garments with gold thread inwove, 
 
 And regal train, and regal air. 
 
198 
 
 Others with equal skill ere Teucer rose 
 Handled the Cretan bow : not once alone 
 Was Troy the prey of foreign foes : 
 Battles were won the Muse might own 
 Ere Sthenelus or Idomeneus were bom. 
 Priam's bold sons were not the first to take 
 Their death-blow in the charge forlorn 
 For virtuous wives' and children's sake. 
 Long before Agamemnon there were brave 
 Heroes enough : but all unknown to fame 
 
 They sleep, where no tear gems their grave, 
 For lack of bards to hymn their name. 
 'Twixt hidden sloth and buried bravery 
 There is not much to choose. I'll tune my tongue 
 To chant thy praise ; thou shalt not die, 
 LoUius, for want of being Sung. 
 Oblivion on thy labours shall not seize ; 
 Thy wit in council shall inspire my rhymes ; 
 Thy heart contented and at ease 
 In troublous, as in prosperous, times. 
 Thou lov'st to punish grasping fraud ; to shun 
 Money that gathers all things to itself : 
 Thou who art Consul, not for one 
 Year, but whene'er o'er lust of pelf 
 
199 
 
 The honest power of justice wins the day ; 
 
 That scorns the guilty for a bribe to shield, 
 And through the hottest of the fray 
 Bears off the colours from the field. 
 
 Men wrongly call them blest to whom is given 
 
 Great store of wealth ; far worthier the name 
 Is he, who the rich gifts of heaven 
 Employs without deserving blame. 
 
 Who pinching poverty knows how to bear ; 
 
 Who dreads wrongdoing more than he dreads death 
 Who for his land or comrades dear 
 Fears not to spend his latest breath. 
 
10. ^0 ^tgxmnus 
 
 Oh ! 'tis well you should be cruel ! and should boast of Venus' power ! 
 
 But your pride will turn to sorrow in an unexpected hour, 
 
 When your chin begins to bristle, and you lose the hair that flows 
 
 Curling round those smooth white shoulders ; and those cheeks, that shame the rose 
 
 Raised in Carthaginian gardens, into sallow roughness pass : 
 
 Then you'll cry in consternation, as you look into the glass. 
 
 Why did thoughts, that now possess me, in my boyhood never burn? 
 
 Or with present inclinations don't my former looks return ? 
 
II. %a fh^lXxB 
 
 I've a cask full of Alban that nine years round 
 Has nearly completed ; my gardens abound, 
 Dearest Phyllis, with parsley in wreaths to be bound : 
 
 And the ivy grows thick in the wood, 
 Whose leaves, in your tresses twined, add to their light : 
 My table with well-polished silver is dight : 
 And the altar, festooned with the vervain bright, 
 
 Is athirst for the slain lamb's blood. 
 We are all of us busy ; now here, and now there, 
 The young men are bustling, and maidens fair ; 
 And the smoke of the torches is thick in ^e air. 
 
 As their flames whirl to and fro. 
 If you want to be told to what festival gay 
 You are bidden, the Ides I am keeping to-day, 
 That the month of the goddess, who rose from the spray, 
 
 Clept April divide in two. 
 
'Tis an annual feast, that I reckon of right 
 More sacred almost than my own birth-night, 
 For Maecenas counts from this morning's light 
 
 His years, as they come and go. 
 Young Telephus know that you're courting in vain. 
 He's the slave of another fair mistress's reign : 
 She is rich ; and he thinks with delight of his chain ; 
 
 He was never intended for you. 
 Rash Phaethon, charring with self-sought heat, 
 Of the fate of the proud is. a spectacle meet : 
 And snowy-winged Pegasus, who from his seat 
 
 Ambitious 'Bellerophon threw. 
 These are warnings to you on a suitable wight 
 To set your affections ; nor think that it's right 
 Hopes unfit for your station to keep in your sight. 
 
 Come, last of the idolized throng, 
 Conje, sweet ! (for this bosom shall nevermore burn 
 With the love of another), to Horace, and learn 
 The tunes, that your voice can so charmingly turn ; 
 
 Black care shall be minished with song. 
 
203 
 
 12. %a lirgU 
 
 The Thracian breezes, that come with spring, 
 Over placid waters the white sails wing. 
 The fields are softened, the streams no more 
 With the melted snow of the winter roar. 
 While her breast with sorrow for Itys heaves, 
 The swallow her nest builds under the eaves ; 
 Who blasted with infamy Cecrops' house 
 By her mad revenge on a guilty spouse. 
 To the pipe's soft music the shepherds keep 
 In the fresh green pastures their fattening sheep; 
 And pleasure the god, who the darkling groves 
 And the flocks of mountainous Arcady loves. 
 The season tells us 'tis time to drink : 
 But if Cales' vintage to taste' you think, 
 Who often with sprigs of nobility dine. 
 With a box of nard you must earn the wine. 
 
204 
 
 A little wee box shall a whole cask buy, 
 That in Galba's garret has long lain by; 
 Whose magic the sweetest of hopes can bring, 
 And take from the bitterest care its sting. 
 So come, if you're coming, and don't forget, 
 Ere coming, the fee for your supper to get. 
 With the choicest of Uquor I cannot afford 
 To feast you for nought, like a wealthy lord. 
 Put your scheming for money at once away. 
 Bethink you, there cometh a funeral day : 
 For once let your learning with merriment meet ; 
 A frolic sometimes is a real treat. 
 
205 
 
 13. Ifl %n^t 
 
 The gods have heard my vows, Lyce ! 
 
 The gods have heard my vows : 
 You're old ; yet fair you fain would be : 
 
 You flirt ; with shameless brows 
 You drink, and call in accents shrill 
 
 On Love your lips to seek : 
 Young Chia strikes the harp with skill ; 
 
 He camps in her fair cheek. 
 He shuns the old oak's withered arms. 
 
 He will not hear your prayer : 
 Your teeth are brown and rough ; your charms 
 
 Are wrinkles and grey hair. 
 Bright jewels don't bring back, you see. 
 
 Nor clothes of Coan dye, 
 The days, that now are history. 
 
 When time went fleeting by. 
 
2p6 
 
 The form, the tint, each fairy move, 
 
 Say, whither are they flown, 
 Of her, whose every breath was love, 
 
 Who made me all her own ? 
 Alone with Cinara Ihen in grace 
 
 Of mien and look you vied. 
 But Fate cut short sweet Cinara's race ; 
 
 In youthful bloom she died. 
 The raven's years to you, Lyce, 
 
 Fate grants ; nor feels concern. 
 That forward boys laugh loud, to see 
 
 Your torch to ashes bum. 
 
207 
 
 14. ^0 ^UQUStXtS 
 
 What can the Senate's, or the people's, care 
 Or honour's gifts, Augustus, do for thee ? 
 Can graven stone, or deathless history, 
 
 Tell future times how great thy virtues were ? 
 
 Thou mightiest art of chiefs, on whom the car 
 
 Of circling Phoebus shines in splendour down. 
 The lawless Vandals now at last have known 
 
 What Rome, with thee for lord, can do in war. 
 
 For fiery Drusus, with thy soldiery. 
 
 All the bold agile mountain-tribes, who dwell 
 Where beetling Alps form Nature's citadel. 
 
 From his fierce onslaught forced in rout to flee, 
 
 Not once alone, but on a second field. 
 
 And now the elder Nero battle's stress 
 
 Has tried ; and, blest with heaven-conferred success. 
 
 Has driven the Rsetian giant-ranks to yield. 
 
208 
 
 'Twas good to watch him, in the thick of fight, 
 Bear down upon the self-devoted band, 
 Who doomed themselves to death to free their land, 
 
 Like Auster, — when he dares the tameless might 
 
 Of Ocean, whilst on high the Pleiads' dance 
 
 Threads its still way across the cloud-flecked heaven :— 
 So ever, where the hottest blows were given. 
 
 He bade untired his foaming steed advance : 
 
 Like horned Aufidus, — when wild he raves 
 
 Down from the hills of Daunus' sunny realm, 
 And fertile plains prepares to overwhelm 
 
 'Neath the white eddies of his turbid waves — 
 
 So Claudius on the foemen's iron ranks 
 
 In fury burst, and heaped along the plain 
 
 Front, flank, and rear mowed down like ripened grain 
 
 In harvest time ; a victor worthy thanks, 
 
 For our loss was but light : but thine was all 
 
 The force and wisdom, thine the gods' support : 
 For, since the day when Alexandria's port 
 
 And palace at thy feet were fain to fall, 
 
 Just thrice five years have sped of victory : 
 And thy protecting powers to glories past 
 Have added this desired success at last ; 
 
 To crown with joy the anniversary. 
 
209 
 
 Thee the wild Spaniard, thee the hordes who roam 
 O'er Scythia's barren steppes, thee wealthy Ind, 
 And Media sage admire ; the guardian kind 
 
 Of happy Italy and sovereign Rome. 
 
 Thee Nile, who hides his sources from the reach 
 Of man, thee Danube, thee swift Tigris' river, 
 Thee monster-breeding Ocean, breaking ever 
 
 In clouds of spray on Britain's distant beach. 
 
 Revere ; the Gaul who scorns from death to flee, 
 The stern Biscayan, listens for thy voice ; 
 And Rhine's pale warriors, who in blood rejoice. 
 
 Their weapons lay aside to pray to thee. 
 
IS- ^0 Augustus 
 
 When towns and battles won I wished to sing, 
 Apollo chid me with indignant string, 
 
 And bade my tiny barque not dare to brave 
 
 Th' Etruscan sea. This age, great prince, of yours. 
 Has given us back our fields of golden grain ; 
 And his lost standards to Jove's holy fane, 
 That sadly used, not long ago, to wave 
 
 O'er Parthia's haughty shrines. Now Janus' doors 
 Are closed in peace. The rein of right and law 
 Curbs the wild fretting of the wilful jaw 
 
 Of license ; crime rewards with due disgrace ; 
 
 And Rome's time-hallowed arts again restores. 
 On which she throve in wealth, and might, and fame. 
 Till Italy's renown, and Latium's name, 
 
 Were feared, from where the sun begins his race 
 To where he sets beyond th' Hesperian shores. 
 
With Ceesar at the helm, no factious hate, ' 
 No civil broils, shall vex the peaceful state : 
 
 Nor sword be sharpened for a kinsman's blood : 
 Nor city against city in array 
 Be set. The majesty of Julian law 
 Northern and eastern nomads fills with awe. 
 
 And tribes that dwell by Danube's rolling flood, 
 Or Don's morasses, listen and obey. 
 And we, on festival and working days. 
 With wives and children joined, in thankful lays. 
 While Liber's joyous gifts our goblets fill, — 
 
 When prayer to the high gods has first been sung,- 
 Will, like our sires, with flute and voice combined, 
 The brave of other days recall to mind ; 
 
 Troy, and Anchises, and the race, that still 
 
 By deeds proclairfis itself from Venus sprung. 
 
i6. C^ntttrg-Soitg 
 
 Priests 
 
 Hail ! Phoebus : hail ! chaste queen of glade and grove, 
 Diana : hail ! bright glory of the skies ! 
 To whom should ever rise, 
 And ever riseth, worship. Give us what we pray, 
 On this Commencement-day, 
 Long since by songs of ancient sibyl fixed. 
 For noble youths and chosen maids to chant 
 In chorus mixed 
 High praise to you, great gods, who your protecting love 
 To this our city of the seven hills deign to grant. 
 
 Chorus of Boys 
 
 Sweet sun, that bringest, and dost take away 
 With thy effulgent car, the light of day ; 
 
213 
 
 And still the same, yet ever new, 
 Art daily bom ; than this our Rome 
 No greater city may'st thou ever view. 
 
 Chorus of Girls 
 
 Whate'er the name thou likest best to bear, 
 Kind goddess, be our matrons' throes thy care. 
 
 Prosper our marriage laws ; and give 
 
 Fair progeny to every home, 
 That, to the end of time, our race may thrive. 
 
 Full Chorus 
 
 So, when eleveii decades bring this month again, 
 Thrice at the noon of day 
 Thrice 'neath the moon's soft ray. 
 The games shall be performed to music's solemn strain. 
 And oh ! ye weird prophetic three. 
 Dread Fates ! whose once-pronounced decree 
 Is changeless, with prosperity 
 
 Our future bless. 
 Let earth luxuriantly bear 
 Her wheaten crown for Ceres' hair ; 
 Let genial showers, and healthy air 
 Our flocks increase. 
 
214 
 
 Boys 
 
 Gentle and kind, thy darts laid by, 
 Apollo, hear thy suppliants' cry. 
 
 Girls 
 
 Thou, Lady Moon, with golden horn, 
 Thy maids' petition do not scorn. 
 
 Boys 
 
 If Rome arose at your command ; 
 If by your will the exiled band, 
 Compelled to change their gods and land. 
 Have safe possessed the Tuscan strand ; 
 When through the smouldering embers of his Troy 
 
 .iEneas made his way, 
 His country's only heir, without annoy. 
 
 To seek a happier day ; 
 Give to our docile youth the sense of right ; 
 Peace to our old men give, ye gods of might ; 
 And wealth, and offspring, and success in fight 
 To Romulus's race. 
 
215 
 
 Girls 
 
 May he who slays the bulls of snow, 
 Whose veins with Venus' ichor flow, 
 Be matchless lord of all below ; 
 But ruthful to a prostrate foe. 
 Even now the Mede has learned, by sea and land. 
 
 The Alban axe to fear : 
 The Scythians, late so boastful, Rome's command. 
 
 And Indians, wait to hear. 
 Now Faith and Peace, Honour and Modesty, 
 And Worth, whom long neglect compelled to fly, 
 And jocund Plenty, with her horn heaped high, 
 Resume their olden place. 
 
 Full Chorus 
 
 If thou, great seer, with radiant bow bedecked. 
 
 Whom the nine Muses love, 
 Who canst all ills that weary limbs infect 
 
 With healing skill remove ; 
 If, Phoebus, thou wilt look with kindly eyes 
 On these our altars on the Palatine, 
 If thou on Rome and Latium smile benign. 
 
2l6 
 
 Our bliss shall grow with growing centuries. 
 
 Diana let thine ear attend, 
 Bright queen of Aventine and Algidus, 
 
 The priestly prayers that rise for us, 
 And to our children's choir assenting bend. 
 
 Priests 
 
 Full of hope now wend we home. 
 Trusting, that for years to come, 
 Jove and all the gods will grant 
 Gracious answer to the chant, 
 Which our mingled voices raise. 
 Thee, Phoebus, and Diana, thee to praise. 
 
ODES 
 
 BOOK V 
 
 COMMONLY CALLED BOOK OF EPODES 
 
219 
 
 1. 1^0 ittatenas 
 
 With full armed triremes, friend, thou'rt putting now 
 
 Thy galleys on a par ; 
 And on thine own wilt take from Caesar's brow 
 
 The peril of the war. 
 And what of me, whose life with thee is joy. 
 
 Without thee heaviness ? 
 Must I be bidden all my hours employ 
 
 In lonely idleness ? 
 Or shall I dare this labour, as fits those 
 
 Of manly mould like us ? 
 Yes, I will dare ; and thee, o'er Alpine snows, 
 
 O'er cruel Caucasus, 
 Or to the farthest bay of western Spain, 
 
 Will follow stanch of heart. 
 Thou 'It ask, what help thy work from me will gain, 
 
 Who play the coward's part. 
 
None : but with thee less fear will tear my breast, 
 
 Than if I stayed behind : 
 Just as the bird, who sitting in her nest, 
 
 Bears not the snake in mind. 
 But dreads him when away ; although no good 
 
 Her present aid would be. 
 This, and all other wars I gladly would 
 
 Endure for thanks from thee. 
 Not that more oxen in my fields might graze, 
 
 Or in my harness range ; 
 Nor that my flocks Calabria's hot dog-days 
 
 For cooler climes might change ; 
 Nor that my country-place from Tusculum 
 
 Might stretch to Circe's wall : 
 More than enough of wealth to me has come 
 
 From thee. I never shall 
 My money in the earth, like Chremes, hide : 
 Nor, like some loose young spendthrift, scatter far and wide. 
 
2. f raise of pfc in the Countrp 
 
 Oh ! what luck is the man's, who from 'Change far away. 
 
 Like earth's aboriginal race, 
 Can plough his own fields with his oxen all day ; 
 
 And has never a bill to fade. 
 The morning bugle who never need hear, 
 
 Nor dread the roughening sea ; 
 Who can keep himself from constituents clear, 
 
 And a client never need be. 
 But his vineyard's promising six-years' crop 
 
 To the poplars tall he'll wed : 
 Or the barren shoots with his bill-hook lop, 
 
 And bud in better instead. 
 The lowing cattle, that long to stray, 
 
 In the sheltering valley he'll keep : 
 Or strain the bright honey, and pot it away ; 
 
 Or shear the shivering sheep. 
 
222 
 
 When, wreathed with sweet apples red Autumn appears 
 
 In the fields to gladden his eyes ; 
 How pleasant to gather the grafted pears, 
 
 Or the grapes with their purple dyes, 
 That anon to Priapus shall fill up the glass, 
 
 Or, god of the homestead, to thee ; 
 And to lie for a while in the dinging grass, 
 
 For a while 'neath the old oak tree. 
 While the river flows by 'neath its banks' steep height ; 
 
 And the doves in the greenwood moan ; 
 And plashing fountains to slumber invite 
 
 With their tremulous undertone. 
 And as soon as the wintery season arrives. 
 
 With its snow, and its thunder, and wet. 
 With his bell-tongued hounds from the lair he drives 
 
 The savage wild-boar to his net. 
 Or from twig to twig he stretches his toils. 
 
 The greedy thrushes to snare ; 
 Or at eve carries home, as his share of the spoils, 
 
 A crane, or a timorous hare. 
 Who would not, while leading so joyous a life. 
 
 Forget love's bitterest care ? 
 But, if there be added a virtuous wife, 
 
 His home and his children to share ; — 
 
223 
 
 Like the Sabine dame, or the sunburned spouse 
 
 Of the hardy ApuHan's bed, 
 Who kindles the fire with well-dried boughs 
 
 When she hears her goodman's tired tread ; 
 Who can shut the glad sheep in their wattled fold, 
 
 And milk the ewes' udders dry, 
 And pour the new wine from the jar ; — no gold 
 
 A pleasanter meal could buy. 
 Lake Lucrine's oysters I ivould not desire ; 
 
 Nor turbot, nor mullet rare, 
 Which the storm-swept sea, and the east wind's ire 
 
 To our coast in the winter bear. 
 The African capon were nothing to me ; 
 
 Nor the partridge Ionia knows 
 More sweet than the fruit of my own olive tree, 
 
 Gathered fresh from its juiciest boughs ; 
 Or sorrel that loves in the meadows to grow, 
 
 Or mallow that cleanses the blood ; 
 Or the lamb that they eat when the bounds they go ; 
 
 Or the kid that was nigh wolf's food. 
 How nice, from their pasture returning to see 
 
 The sheep, in the midst of one's mirth ; 
 Or the kine driven home, who with tottering knee 
 
 Drag the plough turned up from the earth ; 
 
224 
 
 While the household slaves, like the swarm of the bee, 
 Lie around the glimmering hearth. 
 
 Thus spake Alfius the usurer, ready to go 
 In the country his days to spend. 
 
 When he called in his loans just a fortnight ago. — 
 And to-day he is longing to lend. 
 
3. '^0 Mttctn-0i8 
 
 If e'er a vile wretch, by impiety driven, 
 
 Have strangled a parent at rest ; 
 Let him garlic, more noxious than hemlock, be given 
 
 That a mower alone can digest. 
 What poison is this in my liver that's brewing 
 
 So angrily ? By a mistake 
 Has the gore of a snake with the cabbage been stewing ? 
 
 Has Canidia been handling the steak ? 
 It was this that Medea drew forth from her flagon 
 
 Her beautiful Jason to smear ; 
 When the fire-breathing bullocks he yoked to the waggon, 
 
 Of Argonauts all the most fair : 
 'Twas a robe steeped in this,' ere she mounted her dragon, 
 
 She gave her proud rival to wear. 
 Nothing hotter, I ween, the Apulian peasant 
 
 In sultriest summer has known : 
 p 
 
226 
 
 Nor burned with more fury the slain Centaur's present 
 Over Hercules' broad shoulders thrown. 
 
 But if ever, Maecenas, to take to such messes 
 By pure love of frolic you're led, 
 
 May the girl of your heart with her hand stop your kisses, 
 And sleep on the edge of the bed. 
 
227 
 
 4. Against Mtn^s 
 
 The hatred that sheep from the wolf doth divide, 
 
 Just such to you, Menas, have I : 
 With the brand of the Spanish ropes deep in your side, 
 
 And the brand of hard chains on your thigh ! 
 You may strut in the pride of the money you've made ; 
 
 Length of purse does not alter your kind. 
 Don't you see, when you stalk on the Grand Promenade 
 
 With six ells of toga behind. 
 How with faces averted the people you meet 
 
 Pass by, nor conceal their disdain : 
 " Why this is the fellow the triumvirs beat 
 
 Till the crier turned sick at his pain: 
 Now a thousand Falernian acres he ploughs, 
 
 And he drives on the Appian Way ; 
 And he sits, a new knight, in the front of the rows, 
 
 In spite of all Otho can say. 
 
228 
 
 What boots it so many new vessels to arm 
 With beaked prows, the waters to roam 
 
 In pursuit of the Freedmen's piratical swarms, 
 Whilst he's soldiers-tribune at home?" 
 
229 
 
 5. ^h^ Mitthzs 
 
 " Ah ! God ! if aught of God in heaven there be, 
 
 That governs earth and man ; 
 What means this noise ? Why do these faces me 
 
 With such fell purpose scan ? 
 I pray thee, by thy sons, if thou hast kno-\vn 
 
 A real mother's pain ; 
 By the vain splendour of this purple gown ; 
 
 By Jove's supreme disdain ; 
 Why dost thou glare at me with stepdame's eyes, 
 
 Like a hurt beast of prey?" — 
 His tongue, that faltered 'midst his miseries, — 
 
 His garments torn away, — 
 Ruth would have moved in th' hardest Thracian's mind : 
 
 So young he was, so fair. 
 Canidia, with vipers intertwined 
 
 In her dishevelled hair ; 
 
23° 
 
 Eggs freshly smeared with gore of filthy frog, 
 
 Bids her weird sisters bring, 
 Bones hardly snatched from teeth of starving dog. 
 
 Plumes from the night-jar's wing. 
 Wild figs torn by the roots from dead men's tombs, 
 
 Cypress from funeral p)Te, 
 And each foul herb that from mid Asia comes, 
 
 To feed her Colchian fire. 
 Then Sagana quickly came, and strewed the floor, 
 
 Whilst her hair stood on end 
 Like a sea-hedgehog, or an angry boar. 
 
 With drops that Hell's-gates lend. 
 And Veia, whom no qualms of memorj'' foil. 
 
 Took hdr hard mattock down. 
 And dug a deep hole, groaning o'er the toil. 
 
 In which the boy to drown ; 
 That, seeing dainties fit for gluttons' whims 
 
 Fresh twice and thrice a day. 
 With chin appearing, like a man who swims. 
 
 He so might pine away; 
 Till marrow fever-parched, and liver dried, 
 
 With their love-draughts should blend ; 
 When once his eye-balls, fixed on food denied, 
 
 Had withered to their end. 
 
231 
 
 That Folia's hideous form was there as well, 
 
 Folia's of Rimini, 
 Say they who in ease-loving Naples dwell, 
 
 And all the towns thereby. 
 Whose witch-chant on the moon and stars prevails 
 
 To leave their thrones on high. 
 And now Canidia gnaws her unpared nails 
 
 With livid teeth and dry : 
 What said she ? nay, What said she not ? " Ye two, 
 
 Night, faithful friend," she cried, 
 " And Hecate, who, when dark rites are due, 
 
 O'er silence dost preside ; 
 Come to me now ! come now ! now ! on my foes 
 
 Your mighty anger shower. 
 Whilst in the woods the timid beasts repose 
 
 And yield to sleep's sweet power. 
 Suburra's dogs will bark, soon as they've heard 
 
 The hoary lecher's tread, 
 Who comes, the laughing-stock, with nard besmeared 
 
 The best these hands e'er spread ! 
 How ? What is this ? Have all the potions dread 
 
 Of fierce Medea failed ? 
 Before whose vengeance, ere she homeward fled, 
 
 Creon's proud daughter quailed ; 
 
232 
 
 When in red flame the gore-dyed cloak, her gift, 
 
 Consumed the new-made bride. 
 And yet nor root nor herb on rock or rift 
 
 From me could ever hide. 
 Either drugged into deep forgetflilness 
 
 In some drab's den he snores ; 
 Or spells of some more knowing sorceress 
 
 Have loosed the bonds of ours. 
 It seems, the cup that thou hast quaffed so long, — 
 
 Varus, 'twill cost thee dear, — 
 Brings thee not back to me ; my Marsian song 
 
 Thy heart disdains to hear. 
 A deeper, stronger bowl I'll mix for thee. 
 
 That shall more useful prove : 
 Sooner the skies shall sink beneath the sea ; 
 
 And earth be spread above ; 
 Pitch cease to blaze in fire, than thou for me 
 
 To feel the pangs of love." 
 The boy strove no more now their wrath accurst 
 
 To soothe with language fair ; 
 But paused awhile in silence, then outburst 
 
 In Thyestean prayer, 
 " What though your drugs be great for good and ill, 
 
 They cannot alter Fate ! 
 
233 
 
 I curse ye by the gods ! No victim will 
 
 That dread curse expiate. 
 And when my summons of release I hear, 
 
 A Fury of the night 
 With crooked ghostly claws your cheeks I'll tear, 
 
 As is a Spirit's right. 
 Close to your restless hearts I'll take my seat. 
 
 For sleep in vain ye'll sigh ! 
 The mob your foul forms soon from street to street 
 
 Will stone, until ye die. 
 Then your unburied limbs the wolves shall rive. 
 
 And birds from Esquiline ; 
 While my fond parents, who their son survive, 
 
 Behold your fate condign." 
 
234 
 
 6. j^gainst (Eajssiws Scb^rus 
 
 Why wony harmless strangers, cur ? 
 
 The wolves you never fight. 
 Let me your empty wrath incur ; 
 
 I'll give you bite for bite. 
 Like Epirote or Spartan hound, 
 
 Whose worth the shepherds know, 
 With ear aprick, whate'er be found, 
 
 I'll track through deepest snow. 
 With dismal howl you fill the wood ; 
 
 Then snuff the meat they throw. 
 Beware ! for curs that do no good 
 
 Right ready horns I show. 
 Like false Lycambes' son-in-law, 
 
 Like Bupalus' grim foe, — 
 Just touch me with your dirty jaw ! — 
 
 Not unavenged I'll go. 
 
235 
 
 7. ^0 the '^omnuB 
 
 Whither, ah ! whither, with drawn swords in hand, 
 
 Haste ye, mad sons of guilt ? 
 Say, has too. little yet by sea and land 
 
 Of Latin blood been spilt ? 
 'Tis not that Rome in smouldering ashes low 
 
 Her Punic foe may lay ; 
 Nor that unconquered Britons chained may go 
 
 Along the sacred way. 
 'Tis that this city, as the Parthians pray, 
 
 By her own hand may bleed. 
 Not thus with wolves or lions is the way : 
 
 They ne'er on kindred feed. 
 Does madness blind you ? or crime's greater might, 
 
 Unpurged, impel you ? Say — • 
 What ! Silent ? Every face so deathly white ! 
 
 Each heart blank terror's prey ! 
 
236 
 
 'Tis so. Avenging furies Rome pursue : 
 
 A brother's cruel fate. 
 Earth drank the blood of guiltless Remus : you 
 
 That sin must expiate. 
 
237 
 
 8-. ^0 Canibia 
 
 How dares your old wizened throat 
 
 My small weaknesses to note ? 
 
 Twenty years ago you lost 
 
 All the charms you e'er could boast. 
 
 Blackened teeth, and shrivelled skin 
 
 Tell of worse decay within : 
 
 Where, beneath your heart's dry crust 
 
 Not affection beats, but lust. 
 
 Go in peace : your latter end 
 
 Let triumphal pomp attend. 
 
 Ne'er may bride clasp round her neck 
 
 Richer pearls, than yours bedeck. 
 
 Yet, deem not that age, forsooth. 
 
 Can attract like rosy youth : 
 
 Or that philosophic books 
 
 Compensate for ruined looks. 
 
238 
 
 Nay, your form, your face, your breath, 
 Prove you fit to wed with Death. 
 If a belle you still must be, 
 Take him for your beau, not me. 
 
239 
 
 9. 1^0 M^an-aB 
 
 Thy Cascuban for solemn feasts laid by, 
 
 In joy at Caesar's victory, 
 When, with Jove's sanction, in thy guest-hall high, 
 
 Maecenas, shall I drink with thee. 
 While Phrygian flutes in harmony unite 
 
 Their notes with Doris' dulcet lyre ? 
 As late, when Neptune's son in hasty flight 
 
 Beheld his vaunted fleet on fire. 
 The fetters, that his friends the slaves had worn, 
 
 He threatened he would bind on Rome. 
 Now Romans, (future times will treat with scorn 
 
 The tale,) a woman's thralls become, 
 The stake and sword and helmet wont to bear, 
 
 To wrinkled eunuchs bend their knees : 
 And 'midst our standards, stained with battle's wear 
 
 The sun mosquito-curtains sees. 
 
240 
 
 'Twas this that made two thousand GalHc horse 
 
 Desert, and cheer for C»sar's side ! 
 Ashamed of this, our foeman's naval force 
 
 Swift homeward to their haven hied. 
 Hail Victory ! Bring forth the golden car. 
 
 The sacred oxen quickly bring. 
 Hail Victory ! Thou ha:st found one greater far 
 
 Than he who tamed Numidia's king ; 
 Or Scipio, who from Carthage stricken low, 
 
 To honour and a grave came back. 
 Routed by land and sea, the vanquished foe 
 
 Has changed his crimson suit for black ; 
 And seeks the far-famed hundred towns of Crete 
 
 With breezes that no more obey ; 
 Or, where the south-winds on the quicksands beat, 
 
 [s tossing, on the waves astray. 
 Then, sirrah, bring us forth the biggest bowls ; 
 
 Bring Lesbian or Chian wine. 
 Or, better to compose our anxious souls. 
 
 Fetch forth the Csecuban divine ; 
 The cares and fears, that flit round Cassar's crown, 
 
 In toasts to Bacchus we will drown. 
 
241 
 
 lo. J^gaiitBt the fjiet ittjEbiits 
 
 Ill-omened signs to sea the vessel urge 
 
 In which foul Msevius bides ! 
 Auster, forget not thou -with boisterous surge 
 
 To batter both her sides. 
 Let darkling Eurus bear away her ropes 
 
 And oars, with fierce head-seas. 
 And Aquilo, wild as when on mountain-slopes 
 
 He rends the forest trees. 
 Let no kind star through the black night be seen, 
 
 When grim Orion 's lost : 
 Nor let the watery waste be more serene, 
 
 Than to the Grecian host, 
 When Pallas turned her ire from smouldering Troy 
 
 On impious Ajax' ship. 
 Aha ! Why sweats so sore yon sailor boy? 
 
 Why pales thy purple lip ? 
 
242 
 
 What mean thy woman's cries, thy prayers to Jove, 
 
 Who will no pity feel ? 
 Is't that the storm in yon Ionian cove 
 
 Has split thy vessel's keel ? 
 Ah ! Maevius, if thy corpse on yonder shore 
 
 Become the sea-mew's prey, 
 A lusty he-goat to the tempest's roar 
 
 And white ewe-lamb I'll slay. 
 
243 
 
 II. ^0 fectiuB 
 
 I CARE not to write verses as of yore, 
 By Cupid's arrows, Pectius, smitten sore ; 
 Cupid's, who picks me out from all the rest. 
 With each new lovely form to fire my breast. 
 The third December strips the shivering trees, 
 Since proud Inachia I strove hard to please : 
 When my poor suit, I blush to think, was known 
 As common table-talk through all the town, 
 When at the feast still tongue and vacant eye 
 Betrayed the lover ere the deep-drawn sigh. 
 " With sordid gold must a poor poet's brain," 
 I used to moan, " be matched ; and aye in vain?" 
 Whene'er, with Liber's glowing juices bold. 
 The secrets of my grief to thee I told. 
 Yet, though at times my heart indignant grew, 
 That to the winds th' ungrateful beauty threw 
 
244 
 
 My weary plaints, that failed to soothe my woe ; 
 
 And swore th' unequal strife I would forego ; 
 
 When all my virtue's armour seemed complete; 
 
 As home I went, my hesitating feet 
 
 Would guide me to her hard, relentless door. 
 
 And morn would find me stretched there, stiff and sore. 
 
 But now I yield me to Lycisca's spell, 
 
 Whose softer charms all womanhood excel. 
 
 From her, nor sage advice of friends oft tried 
 
 In olden days, nor stings of wounded pride, 
 
 Shall move me, till I find a fairer fair 
 
 With sweeter smile and more luxuriant hair. 
 
245 
 
 12. ^0 €nnib'f$c 
 
 What do these constant letters mean ? 
 
 These presents, that you send to me ? 
 I am not such a beast unclean 
 
 As e'er your mate to be. 
 The strength of youth is mine no more : 
 But still I have the sense of smell, 
 Keen as trained hounds that track the boar : 
 
 And yours I know too well. 
 Your rouge and chalk avail you naught ; 
 
 The crocodile's revolting stench, 
 If Love were ever in my thought. 
 
 His fire would quickly quench. 
 You say I leave you, nothing loth, 
 
 Buxom Inachia to pursue. 
 Can any one, who knows you both. 
 Feel wonder that I do ? 
 
246 
 
 A curse on Lesbia's head you call ; 
 
 By whose advice you let go free 
 Coan Amyntas, young and tall, 
 
 And strong as mountain tree. 
 For others keep those costly clothes ; 
 I care not for their Tyrian dye : 
 My soul your fetid presence loathes ; 
 As roes from lions fly. 
 
247 
 
 13. %o mg JcUotDs 
 
 Winter's gloomy days are shortening ; snow and rain in torrents pour, 
 
 As the heavens themselves were falling ; over sea and sere wood roar 
 
 Fierce North-winds from Thrace's mountains. Comrades let us wisdom learn 
 
 From the season ; and, before our joints refuse with ease to turn, 
 
 Smooth time's wrinkles from our foreheads. Bid them bring the liquor here 
 
 Bottled when I was a baby, in Torquatus' consul's year. 
 
 Come, dismiss all sad forebodings. Heaven, may be, will think it meet 
 
 All our griefs to change for gladness. Let us now with unguents sweet. 
 
 Fit for Phrygian kings, anoint us ; while the Cyllenean lay 
 
 With its music from our bosoms anxious care shall drive away. 
 
 Thus of old the mighty Centaur to his noble pupil sung : — 
 
 " Mortal, whom no man can conquer, from immortal Thetis sprung, 
 
 In Assaracus' dominion, where the cold, scant waters creep 
 
 Of dull Simois and Scamander, thou must sleep th' unending sleep. 
 
248 
 
 Thence the Fates, who spin thy life-thread, hope of safe return deny. 
 Never shall thy sea-born mother bring thee home from victory. 
 So with jocund talk and laughter, and the wine-cup, and the song, 
 Lighten cares, that would embitter years thou mayest not prolong." 
 
249 
 
 14. ^0 M'^cznns 
 
 What sluggish lethargy has overta'en 
 
 The noblest powers I have, — 
 As though my thirsty lips had stooped to drain 
 
 Cups filled fi-om Lethe's wave, — 
 'Tis killing me to ask so many times. 
 
 For Cupid will not let 
 Me bring my long-since promised tragic rh3mies 
 
 To fair completion yet. 
 Just so his Samian love, they say, of yore 
 
 Made sweet Anacreon's muse 
 His griefs in strains of lyric song deplore, 
 
 And graver themes refuse. 
 Thyself dost suffer : but thy flame is fair 
 
 As she who ruined Troy. 
 Then bless thy stars ! think what my tortures are, 
 
 A flighty slave-girl's toy. 
 
250 
 
 15- %o ^cara 
 
 It was night ; and the moon through the clear sky was saiHng, 
 
 Among stars of less noble degree ; 
 When, to anger the great gods with words unavailing, 
 
 You repeated that oath after me, 
 Whilst, closer than ivy her tendrils doth tie on 
 
 The holm oak, to me clung your arm ; 
 " While the wolf to the sheep-fold, to sailors Orion 
 
 O'er wintry seas threateneth harm, 
 We will love one another ; as long as Apollo 
 
 Give his locks to the zephyrs to fan." 
 But your sorrow, Nesera, my changed heart shall follow, 
 
 If Horace be aught of a man. 
 He will not let you grant all your hours to another : 
 
 Or he too will a new love procure. 
 His wrath at your scorn of himself he'll ne'er smother. 
 
 If once of his grievance he's sure. 
 
251 
 
 And you, for a moment who feel a proud pleasure, 
 
 And smile at a rival's defeat ; 
 Though your herds and your lands should increase without measure, 
 
 Though Pactolus should roll at your feet. 
 Though the secrets be yours that Pythagoras cherished. 
 
 Though your beauty should Nireus outshine, 
 You shall mourn in your turn for a love that has perished ; 
 
 And the turn of the laugh shall be mine ! 
 
253 
 
 i6. %o ihz p,jjmanB 
 
 Another age in civil war goes by : 
 
 And Rome's own children spill their mother's blood ; 
 Who scorned her Marsian neighbours' enmity, 
 
 Nor feared loud Porsena's Etruscans rude, 
 Nor Spartacus, nor Capua's rival pride. 
 
 Nor th' Allobrox, who swore but would not do, 
 Nor Germany's fierce youth, the azure-eyed, 
 
 Nor Hannibal, our fathers dreaded foe. 
 Yet our accursed age to ruin must 
 
 ' Bring her ; till wild beasts own her lands again ; 
 And stranger-knights tramp o'er her conquered dust, 
 
 And wake her silent echoes with their train ; 
 And Romulus' ashes to the winds are tossed. 
 
 So worshipped now (a sorry sight to see). 
 
253 
 
 Perchance ye ponder, all of you, or most. 
 
 Some way from such sad troubles to be free. 
 Can any course be better than to flee, 
 
 Like old Phocsea's people, from the curse ? 
 And leave our homes, and let our temples be 
 
 The lairs, where wolves and swine their litters nurse ? 
 And go where chance may lead us, or the wind 
 
 May drive our ship ? Has any one a plan 
 More promising ? For, if this be your mind, 
 
 Why not at once raise anchor, while we can ? 
 But first we'll swear, we will not turn again 
 
 Our ship's prow, homeward o'er the sea to go ; 
 Till sunken rocks shall float upon the main ; 
 
 Apulia's hill-tops feed the streams of Po ; 
 Till Apennine rush headlong to the sea ; 
 
 Till love unwonted in fell monsters' breast 
 Awake ; till stags with tigers shall agree ; 
 
 And hawk and dove be mated in one nest; 
 Till lions frighten not the flocks that bleat ; 
 
 Till the shorn goat in salt sea waves delight. 
 Thus having cut off all hope of retreat, 
 
 Let all at once commence our solemn flight. 
 Or, if the herd will never wisdom learn. 
 
 Let hopeless dastards keep their ill-starred home ; 
 
ZS4 
 
 While we who dare, unmanly grief will spurn, 
 
 And past Etruria's shore undaunted roam. 
 Vast Ocean waits us, that round richer fields 
 
 Flows ever ; there we'll seek the blessed isles, 
 Where earth untilled her yearly harvests yields. 
 
 And th' unpruned vine in wild luxuriance smiles 
 Where buds that ne'er deceive, the olives own ; 
 
 Where fruit throughout. the year the fig-trees keep ; 
 Where honey wells from hollow oaks ; and down 
 
 The mountain-sides soft prattling streamlets leap. 
 There, without calling, to the milking-bowl 
 
 The gentle goats with swelling udders come. 
 No bears at eve around the sheep-fold growl ; 
 
 No lurking viper makes that land his home. 
 On every side is bliss. No east wind there 
 
 With ceaseless torrents sweeps the crops away ; 
 No bursting seeds are scorched by summer's glare ; 
 
 But heat and cold maintain a tempered sway. 
 That happy shore no Argonaut hath reached ; 
 
 Thither th' unblushing Colchian never flew ; 
 Sidon's bold sailors there no ship have beached ; 
 
 Nor rested there Ulysses' weary crew. 
 No murrain hurts the flocks, no deadly dart 
 
 Of the dog-star makes havoc in the fold. 
 
255 
 
 Jove for the faithful set those isles apart, 
 
 When first he 'gan alloy the years of gold 
 
 With brass, and then with iron. He bids you start 
 With me, his seer, those regions to behold. 
 
2S6 
 
 17. ^0 Cartibta 
 
 The wondrous powers of science gain the day. 
 
 Now by the realms of Proserpine I pray ; 
 
 By Dian's godhead, who no change can brook ; 
 
 By all the songs of thy mysterious book, 
 
 That loose the stars and drag them from their seat ; 
 
 Canidia, cease thy curses to repeat ; 
 
 At once unwind the trammels of thy charm. 
 
 Telephus could Achilles' wrath disarm, 
 
 'Gainst whom in pride he had led the Mysian's band 
 
 And hurled the javelin with no friendly hand. 
 
 Troy's matrons for the pyre dressed Hector's clay. 
 
 Condemned to ravening dogs and birds of prey. 
 
 When first without the walls his sire bent low 
 
 Before the feet of his untiring foe. 
 
 Ulysses' weary wanderers of the main 
 
 Doffed from their limbs the swine's rough hide again 
 
257 
 
 At Circe's bidding ; mind and voice once more 
 
 Came back, and faces human as before. 
 
 More than enough of penalties to thee 
 
 I've paid, whom tars and hucksters love to fee. 
 
 My youth has fled, my clear complexion gone 
 
 Leaves naught but yellow skin to clothe the bone. 
 
 Thy scents have turned my chestnut locks to grey ; 
 
 No seasonable rest my toil can stay. 
 
 Night chases day, day night, yet ne'er for me 
 
 Relieves my heart, nor bids me slumber free. 
 
 Dost bind me that through pain I may believe 
 
 That Sabine chants can cause the heart to grieve ? 
 
 That Marsian utterances the brain can turn ? 
 
 What want'st thou more ? Oh ! seas and earth ! I burn 
 
 Worse than Alcides reeking with the blood 
 
 Of slaughtered Nessus, or the molten flood. 
 
 That boils in Etna. Yet thy vengeful mind — 
 
 Till cinder-dry I drive before the wind — 
 
 Glows like a Colchian poison-shop on fire. 
 
 Where shall this end ? What ransom dost require ? 
 
 Speak out. Whate'er thou biddest I will pay 
 
 In faithful penance. Ask, and I will slay 
 
 A hundred steers, or if thou wouldst be sung. 
 
 Thy modesty and worth shall fill my tongue, 
 
 R 
 
258 
 
 Till thou shalt walk the heaven, a thing of Hght. 
 
 Long since, o'ercome by prayer, his forfeit sight, 
 
 Which they had taken for a slanderous word. 
 
 Fair Helen's brothers to the bard restored : 
 
 Then give me back my mind. Thou canst, I know ; 
 
 Whose infancy ne'er suffered want or woe : 
 
 Who ne'er, like some foul hags, t' enrich thy store 
 
 Riflest the nine-days' ashes of the poor. 
 
 Thy breast o'erflows with love, thy hands are clean. 
 
 The blessings of the womb are thine, I ween ; 
 
 And oft the nurse is called to play her part, 
 
 When baby-wailings touch thy mother' s-heart. 
 
 Canidia 
 
 My ears are shut. Why prayest thou to me ? 
 As soon the rocks the naked sailor's plea 
 Shall hear, whereon the waves of winter beat. 
 Shalt thou Cotytto's secrets dare repeat ? 
 Make mock unharmed at Cupid's rights divine ? 
 And self-installed High-Priest of Esquiline, 
 Scatheless fill all the city with my name ? 
 'Twas not for this I fee'd the Marsian dame. 
 And learned to mix quick laudanum in the bowl. 
 
259 
 
 More tedious pains shall weary out thy soul, 
 
 Thankless for wretched life, thou still shalt live, 
 
 With sufferings daily fresh that thou may'st grieve. 
 
 Pelop's false sire in vain for rest doth long 
 
 For one kind drop to cool his parching tongue ; 
 
 Prometheus from his vulture to be free ; 
 
 Sisyphus on the mountain poised to see 
 
 His stone ; Jove's laws their longings futile keep. 
 
 So thou shalt long from some high tower to leap, 
 
 Deep in thy chest to flesh the Noric sword, 
 
 Or fit around thy neck the fatal cord. 
 
 In abject bitterness of heart-sick pride ; 
 
 Whilst I, a night-mare on thy neck will ride, 
 
 And earth shall own the boundless sway I boast. 
 
 Think'st thou my songs, whose power by search thou know'st 
 
 Shall quicken into motion forms of wax — 
 
 Draw down the constellations from their tracks — 
 
 Give life to ashes from the funeral-pyre — 
 
 Sweeten the cup that feeds love's lingering fire — 
 
 Yet fail to work on thee the ends that I desire ? 
 
MUIR AND PATEESON, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.