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 University of North Carolina 
 
 From the Library of 
 Berthold Louis Ullman 
 
 A Gift of 
 
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 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 SOCIETIES 
 
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 1886 
 
This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on 
 the last date stamped under “Date Due.’’ If not on hold it 
 may be renewed by bringing it to the iibrary. 
 
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 D 1 4’nn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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m 
 
 
 
 
 HORACE. 
 
 THE ODES AND SAECDLAR HYMN, 
 
 WITH SELECTIONS FROM 
 
 THE E P 0 D E S , 
 
 OF 
 
 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS, 
 
 RENDERED INTO ENGLISH VERSE 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES WILLIAM DUNCAN. 
 
 “ EGO, APIS MATINAE 
 “ MORE MODOQUE 
 
 GRATA CARPENTIS THYMA PER LABOREM 
 
 PLURIMUM, * * 
 
 ; i 
 
 * # * 
 
 m 
 
 * * * OPEROSA, PARVUS, 
 
 “ CARMINA FINGO.”—LIB. IV. CAR. 2. 
 
 CHESTEE : 
 
 PHILLIPSON AND GOLDEK. 
 
 1 8 8 6 . 
 
rHILLlPSON AND GOLDDR, PRINTERS, CHESTER. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE MOST NOBLE 
 
 THE DUKE OF WESTMINSTER, K.G. 
 
 My Lord Dukr, 
 
 As Horace himself says, I cannot offer you statues 
 by Scopas, or paintings by Parrhasius. I can only offer you verses, 
 and those not very good ones. Such as they are, however, they 
 are my best. I too can tell the value of my gift, and most 
 heartily do I give it. 
 
 I hate adulation, which never has a true ring about it. 
 Let me then only say that I dedicate this Book to your Grace 
 as the best friend of the community in which my lot is cast. 
 
 I am. 
 
 My Lord Duke, 
 
 Your faithful Servant, 
 
 CHAS. W. DUNCAN. 
 
 Arnold House, Chester, 
 Jany., 1886 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Another attempt to present Horace in an English dress ! Two 
 questions will naturally occur to those who take up my book. First, 
 have there not already been too many translations ? Secondly, have 
 former translators so far failed, that I should dare to hope for a greater 
 success than any one of them has achieved ? 
 
 To the first question I reply that it is impossible to have too many 
 translations of Horace. There is something so exquisite about the 
 delicate touches of his genius and the lightning flashes of his wit, 
 that even the rudest and roughest hand, if guided by genuine lo e, 
 cannot help contributing some little to a fuller appreciation of his 
 beauties. 
 
 The second question is a more difficult one. Assuredly the poets 
 and scholars who have undertaken this work before me have each, out 
 of the rich stores of his own mind, done^ something to increase our 
 perception of the wit, the geniality, the shrewd pleasantry, the playful 
 satire, and the more lofty flights of an almost prophetic imagination, 
 which the bard of Tivoli has given, in profuse abundance, for the 
 instruction and delectation of every age. What then is left for me ? 
 
 T have an answer even to this. It is for the very reason that those 
 who have translated Horace before me were poets themselves, that I 
 think there is still room for me. The idea of this work was put into my 
 head by a dear friend, now gone to his rest, (the Rev. Fredk. Forde, 
 late Rector of St. Peter’s, Chester), who always insisted that what was 
 still wanting was a translation of Horace, in writing which the 
 translator would never let his own fancy run away with him, nor dream 
 that he could gild refined gold out of his own crucible, but would 
 rigidly adhere to the words of the Master. 
 
 This is what I have tried to do. To those who read this book it is 
 almost needless for me to say that I am not a poet. My effort has 
 been to present an almost literal translation of the words of Horace in 
 metrical form. In doing this there must naturally be great stiffness and 
 
 0 
 
 V 
 
angularity, as it were, in the diction, and some halting in the metres. 
 The merit, (if merit there be), of this translation lies only in the 
 faithfulness of the rendering. Of course there are passages which are 
 so idiomatic as to be untranslateable literally, and there are also 
 passages upon the interpretation of which the learned do not agree. 
 With these I have simply done my best to present the poet’s meaning. 
 
 The gentle reader,—let him or her be a very gentle one,—will, I 
 trust, take up my book in a kind and forbearing spirit, and will not 
 expect too much. Then there will be no disappointments. I launch 
 my little barcjue upon the sea of public opinion, hoping that the gales of 
 criticism will not blow very savagely. 
 
 A few words with regard to the metres I have selected may not be 
 out of place. It will no doubt be noticed that I have very rarely 
 attempted to produce in English the original metres. The few attempts 
 I made did not please me, and I have therefore adopted metres which 
 seemed better suited to our own language. I have, however, in all 
 cases adhered as closely as I could to the style and method adopted by 
 the Latin poet himself. 
 
 The text which 1 have followed is that of Dr. Milman, although 1 
 have referred a good deal to those of Orelli and others. 
 
 Arnold House, Chester, 
 
 January, 1886. 
 
THE ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 BO 
 
 Book I. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Book IV. . 
 
 The Saecular Hymn . 
 The Epodes 
 Notes . 
 
 Page. 
 
 I 
 
 55 
 
 94 
 
 153 
 
 187 
 
 192 
 
 209 
 
Vlll 
 
N A M E S 
 
 0 F S U B S CIM B E R S . 
 
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V ^ ^ ^ 
 
 
 THE C) H E S 
 
 OF 
 
 QUINTUS HORATIUS ULACCUS. 
 
 BOOK I . 
 
 ODE L 
 
 To Maecenas. 
 
 'T TjT AECENAS, sprung from royal line, 
 
 Oh friend and sweet protector mine ! 
 Some love th’ Olympic dust to raise, 
 
 With glowing wheels the goal to graze ; 
 
 Th’ ennobling palm such earthly lords 
 Lifts to the level of the Gods. 
 
 Some of the threefold honours proud, 
 
 Gifts of the fickle Roman crowd. 
 
 In their own barns some love to store 
 Grain swept from Libyan threshing-floor. 
 Another tills paternal field. 
 
 Rejoicing in the fruitRil yield ; 
 
 Not wealth of Attains could move 
 Such man to leave the quiet grove ; 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 To cleave the dread Myrtoan sea 
 In Cyprian bark, too tim’rous he. 
 
 The merchant dreads the wind south-west 
 Lashing Icaria’s foaming crest, 
 
 Awhile commends his tranquil home. 
 Unwilling from his fields to roam ; 
 
 Yet soon refits his shattered keel. 
 
 Untaught the pinch of want to feel. 
 
 Some it delights to while away 
 With Massic old the live-long day. 
 
 Now stretched beneath the cherry green, 
 And now by sacred fountain seen. 
 
 Trumpet and clarion’s mingled voice. 
 
 Some woman-hated war rejoice. 
 
 The hunter, ranging thro’ the plains. 
 
 Under the frosty sky remains. 
 
 Unmindful of his tender spouse 
 If a fleet stag his dogs arouse, 
 
 Or a huge Marsian boar pursue. 
 
 Crashing the fine-wrought meshes through. 
 The ivy, prize the learned love, 
 
 Makes me the peer of Gods above ; 
 
 The forest cool, and lightsome band 
 Of Nymphs and Satyrs hand in hand. 
 
 My well-won praises chaunting loud, 
 Distinguish me from vulgar crowd. 
 
 If sweet Euterpe’s lute be given, 
 Polhymnia’s lyre vouchsafed by heaven ; 
 
 If ’mid the lyric bards I tread 
 To stars shall tower my lofty head. 
 
 2 
 
BOOK 1. 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 To Augustus Caesar 
 
 i^NOUGH of dreadful hail and snow 
 Hath Jove sent on the earth below, 
 His bolts our sacred fanes o’erthrow, 
 
 Hurled from his red right hand. 
 
 The nation dreads the sad return 
 Of Pyrrha’s age, and portents stern. 
 Lest Proteus finny shoals should turn 
 Upon the hilly land. 
 
 ’Mid lofty elms then fishes glide. 
 
 The seats where late did doves abide ; 
 Whilst struggle in the whelming tide 
 The frighted fallow-deer. 
 
 We’ve seen how Tiber’s yellow wave, 
 Compell’d th’ Etruscan shore to leave. 
 Flowed fiercely over ro}'al grave 
 
 And Vesta’s temple near. 
 
 3 
 
ODES OK HORACE. 
 
 Avenger of sad Ilia’s woes, 
 
 The loving river overflows, 
 
 And o’er his lofty left bank shows, 
 
 Careless of Jove’s command. 
 
 Thinned by their parents’ vicious life. 
 
 Our youth shall hear of keen-edged knife 
 Whetted for fratricidal strife, 
 
 Which Persians fierce should slay. 
 
 On which God shall the nation call 
 T’ avert the ruined empire’s fall ? 
 
 What prayer of Vestals shall recall 
 
 The Goddess turned away ? 
 
 On whom shall Jove the task impose 
 To chase our sin-inflicted woes? 
 
 His glorious form if Phoebus shows 
 Veiled in a dusky cloud. 
 
 Or, if thou wilt, sweet Venus smile. 
 
 Whom mirth and love by turns beguile; 
 
 Or thou, stern Founder, deign awhile 
 To hear our plainings loud. 
 
 Oh thou to whom ’tis sport to fight, 
 
 Thou whom fierce war and helmets bright 
 And Marsian infantry delight. 
 
 Fierce ’gainst a bloody foe. 
 
 4 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 Or thou, wing’d son of Maia fair, 
 
 If thou in mortal guise appear, 
 
 May Caesar’s young avenger share 
 Thy glorious form below. 
 
 Late may’st thou to the Gods arise. 
 Long spared to bless our Roman eyes, 
 Nor breezes waft thee to the skies 
 Offended by our sin ! 
 
 Great Caesar ! thou our noble guide. 
 Still greater triumphs shalt provide. 
 Nor let the Medes unpunished ride. 
 
 Our Father and our King ! 
 
 5 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE III. 
 
 To I K G I L 
 
 ship I in which lov^’d Virgil sails, 
 
 May potent Cypria thee direct. 
 
 May he who rules the boist’rous gales 
 And Helen’s twins, bright stars, protect I 
 
 Save lapyx all else confined. 
 
 Oh, bear him safely I beseech ; 
 
 Preser\’e one half my anxious mind 
 That he the Attic shore may reach 1 
 
 With oak and triple brass were armed 
 His breast who launched frail vessel first 
 On cruel deep, nor was alarmed 
 
 By furious south-west’s rage accurst 
 
 With the northern blasts contending ; 
 
 Nor feared the rainy Pleiades, 
 
 Nor mad south, all else transcending 
 To lash or lull the Hadrian seas. 
 
 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 6 
 
BOOK T. 
 
 What path of death would he not brave 
 Who gazed on monsters of the deep 
 
 Dry-eyed, nor feared the swelling wave, 
 
 Nor fell Ceraunia’s hated steep ? 
 
 In vain wise God the land divides 
 By tracts of intervening sea, 
 
 If daring ship the billows rides 
 And crosses trackless waters free. 
 
 Mankind all dangers dares behold. 
 
 Thro’ paths forbidden hastes to stray. 
 
 By wicked fraud Prometheus bold 
 
 Brought fire from heav’n with men to stay. 
 
 Fire stol’n from its celestial home 
 
 Brought wasting pain and new disease ; 
 
 Relentless Death, once slow to come. 
 
 Then hurried on with rapid pace. 
 
 Thro’ empty aether Daedalus, 
 
 On wings forbidden to mortals flew. 
 
 The labours of great Hercules 
 
 The gates of Acheron burst through. 
 
 To mortals nothing is too high. 
 
 Great Heav’n itself our folly climbs ; 
 
 From angry Jove the thunders fly. 
 
 The chastisement of constant crimes. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 To L . S E S T I u s . 
 
 ’EEN winter melts before the grateful change of spring 
 And western winds. Dry keels are drawn to shore ; 
 Nor folds to flocks, nor fire to hinds, now pleasure bring, 
 Nor fields with glistening frost are whitened o’er. 
 
 The sprightly dance now Venus leads by soft moonlight. 
 The Nymphs and comely Graces hand in hand, 
 
 Now shake the ground with tripping feet. The forges bright 
 Now Vulcan lights for the Cyclopean band. 
 
 With myrtle green ’tis fit to wreathe the glossy head. 
 
 Or with the flowers sprung from the frost-freed land ; 
 To Faunus now ’tis fit to give in woodland shade 
 A skipping lamb, or kid if he demand. 
 
 Pale Death in paupers’ huts with foot impartial treads 
 And palaces of kings. Oh ! Sestius blest. 
 
 The little span of life long hope t’ indulge forbids, . 
 By night and ghosts unreal you’re now oppressed 
 
 And Pluto’s far abode ; where once when you arrive 
 No more for festal kingdoms dice you’ll throw. 
 
 Nor yet to tender Lycidas your praise shall give, 
 
 For whom now youths, but soon shall virgins, glow. 
 
 8 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 To Pyrrha. 
 
 W ITH scents bedewed, what silly boy, 
 
 Pyrrha, now seeks your love t’ enjoy, 
 ’Neath pleasant grot with roses twined, 
 
 P^or whom your yellow hair you bind 
 
 So simply neat ? He soon will curse 
 Your broken faith and Gods averse ; 
 
 Artless, he’ll soon astounded be 
 At darksome winds and raging sea ; 
 
 Who, trustful now, enjoys your charms. 
 
 And hopes that only in his arms 
 You free and loving he shall find. 
 Unconscious of the faithless wind. 
 
 Hapless are they for whom you shine 
 So bright, untried ! The sacred shrine 
 By tablet vowed, suspended shows 
 The sea-god’s gift,—my dripping clothes ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 To Agrippa. 
 
 O H, conqu’ring hero, under thy command. 
 Whatever exploit, or by sea or land. 
 Fierce warrior achieves, with winged tongue 
 In Lydian verse shall be by Varius sung. 
 
 Humble, Agrippa, we dare not engage 
 Such mighty deeds to sing, nor the dread rage 
 Of stern Pelides, nor the seaward course 
 Of deep Ulysses, nor the cruel house 
 
 Of Pelops. Shame and the all-potent Muse 
 Who tunes the peaceful lyre, forbid to use 
 In praise of mighty Caesar and of thee 
 The feeble strain of mediocrity. 
 
 Who mail-clad Mars shall sing with praises just ? 
 Or Meriones black with Trojan dust ? 
 
 Or, with the help of Pallas’ shelt’ring love, 
 Tydides equal to the Gods above ? 
 
 In ever-lightsome vein of feasts sing we. 
 
 Whether with love we burn, or fancy free ; 
 
 We sing of maiden who the youths assails. 
 
 Fierce in appearance,—but with close-pared nails. 
 
 lO 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 To Munatius Plancus. 
 
 I ET others sing of sunny Rhodes, 
 
 / Of Ephesus, or Mytilen’, 
 
 Of Corinth’s doubly sea-girt walls. 
 
 Of Delphi, Thebes, or Tempo’s scene ! 
 
 Let others raise eternal praise 
 
 To her who bears chaste Pallas’ name. 
 With olive-branches bind their brows 
 In honour of fair Juno’s fame ! 
 
 Of Argos famed for coursers fleet. 
 
 Of proud Mycenae rich with gold ; 
 
 I sing not of Larissa’s plain, 
 
 Nor hardy Sparta’s warriors bold ! 
 
 Give me the rushing Anio’s roar. 
 
 The groves of gentle Tivoli, 
 
 The apple-orchards by the stream. 
 
 Where oft the south wind clears the sky. 
 
 Oh, Plancus ! wisely drown thy cares 
 In soothing draughts of mellow wine. 
 Amid the shades of Tivoli, 
 
 Or where the glittering standards shine ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 j 
 
 When Teucer fled from Salamis, \ 
 
 By cruel parent hunted down, 
 
 i He cheered his sad comipanions thus, > 
 
 I ^ is brows adorned with poplar crown :— I 
 
 s i 
 
 S 
 
 “ Wherever better fortune leads, < 
 
 “ There, comrades, let us bravely go, \ 
 
 “ With Teucer as your guide and guard, ! 
 
 I “ Let not despair your bosoms know ! ^ 
 
 > ) 
 
 j “ Another Salamis shall rise, \ 
 
 I “ Thus Phoebus true hath promised me ; I 
 
 I “ Now drive away your cares with wine, | 
 
 “ To-morrow cross the mighty sea ! ” J 
 
 ] 2 
 
1500 K I. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 To Lydia. 
 
 ^^AY, Lydia, by each God I pray, 
 
 Why draws thy love young Sybaris from manly sports 
 away ? 
 
 Why dreads he now the sun-scorched field ? 
 
 And why no longer scorns he now to dust and heat to 
 yield ? 
 
 No more among his peers he rides. 
 
 No more the mettled Gallic steed with bitted rein he guides. 
 
 To plunge in Tiber’s yellow flood. 
 
 Or wrestlers’ oil to touch, he fears more than the viper’s 
 blood ! 
 
 And now his brawny arms no more 
 The livid bruises bear received in hardy sports of war ; 
 
 The discus he no longer knows. 
 
 Nor now the heavy javelin to furthest limit throws ! 
 
 Why now, like sea-born Thetis’ boy. 
 
 When fate foretold sad death before the lofty walls of Troy, 
 
 Lorbidding chase of Lycian bands. 
 
 Does thy love drop his weapons from untrain’d and 
 nerveless hands ? 
 
 
 ' ✓ vx ^ 
 
 13 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE IX. 
 
 To T H A L I A R C FI U S. 
 
 S EE white Soracte’s summit rise, 
 
 Whereon the snow, deep drifted, lies ; 
 Low droop the boughs with weight of snow. 
 The frost hath stayed the river’s-flow. 
 
 Drive out the cold. The logs pile high. 
 
 Oh, Thaliarchus, gen’rously. 
 
 Bring out that wine of four years’ old 
 Which the rough Sabine jar doth hold. 
 
 To Providence leave all the rest. 
 
 Whose power, by warring winds confessed. 
 Stills the deep ocean’s angry tide. 
 
 Whilst storm-tossed trees in calm subside. 
 
 To-morrow’s fate seek not to know. 
 
 Regard as gain what chance bestow ; 
 
 Shun not the mazy dance, my boy, 
 
 Nor sweetly with your love to toy. 
 
/ 
 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Whilst youth is far from grumbling age, 
 Now is the time in sport t’ engage ; 
 
 In exercise of mimic fight, 
 
 Or whispered love in shelt’ring night. 
 
 Now, captured in sly corner’s shade. 
 Hear the sweet laugh of hiding maid. 
 As, finger pointing at her charms. 
 
 You snatch the forfeit from her arms. 
 
 
 15 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 To Mercury. 
 
 RCH Mercury, of Atlas grandson bright, 
 
 Who by thy voice the manners wild didst mould 
 Of ancient mortals, and didst introduce 
 The graceful fashion of the wrestler bold ; 
 
 Of thee I sing, herald of mighty Jove 
 
 And of the Gods ; parent of stringed shell ; 
 And whatsoe’er thou wilt in merry theft 
 To take away, adroit to hide as well. 
 
 When Phoebus threatened thee with angry voice 
 Whilst yet a little child, in bye-gone day. 
 
 Lest thou restored the oxen stol’n by craft, 
 
 He laughed to find his quiver ta’en away. 
 
 And so rich Priam, having Ilium left 
 
 Under thy guidance, could escape with joy 
 The haughty sons of Atreus, and the fires 
 Thessalian, and the hostile camp to Troy. 
 
 To blissful homes thou pious souls dost lead. 
 
 And thou the ghostly crowd dost quickly move 
 With golden rod ; by deities below 
 
 Belov’d, and by th’ immortal Gods above. 
 
BOOK T. 
 
 ODE XL 
 To Leuconoe. 
 
 S EEK not, Leuconoe, ’tis wrong to know. 
 
 What end the Gods on me or thee bestow ; 
 Consult not thou the Babylonian seer; 
 
 Far better ’tis thy destined lot to bear. 
 
 Nor ask if Jove has many winters given, 
 
 Or this the last vouchsafed by gracious heaven, 
 
 ’Gainst stubborn rocks which chafes the Tyrrhene main. 
 Be wise, and haste for use thy wines to strain. 
 
 The longest life hoped for by mortal man. 
 
 So brief in space, can but be deemed a span. 
 
 E’en as we speak unwelcome age flies fast ; 
 
 Enjoy the day, nor to the future trust. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XII. 
 
 To Augustus. 
 
 |r|H, Clio ! whom of heroes or of men 
 
 ^\3 Dost thou design upon thy lyre to praise, 
 
 Or high-pitehed pipe ? Whom of the Gods ? 
 
 With whose great name shall sportive echo ring, 
 Either in shady bounds of Helicon, 
 
 On Pindus, or on frozen Haemus’ height ? 
 
 Whence moving woods in crowding ranks pursued 
 The tuneful Orpheus, whose maternal art 
 Had power the rapid flow of streams to stay 
 And the swift winds. Persuasive he to lead 
 The listening oaks with his melodious strings. 
 
 What shall I sing before th’ accustomed praise 
 Of the great Sire, who governs the affairs 
 Of Gods and men ? Who rules both sea and land 
 And all the changing seasons of the world ! 
 
 Who nothing greater than himself begets. 
 
 Nor aught his equal nor his second springs. 
 Nearest to his yet Pallas hath acquired 
 Honours of next degree. Nor, Bacchus free. 
 Daring in battle, will I cease to raise 
 My voice in praise of thee. Nor unto thee. 
 
 Oh Virgin, hostile to the cruel beasts ; 
 
 Nor Phoebus, dreaded for unerrinQ; dart. 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 And of Alcides also will I sing, 
 
 And Leda’s boys, one famed for conqu’ring skill 
 As horseman bold, the other in the fight. 
 
 Whose glitt’ring star when once by sailors seen. 
 The tossing waves back from the rocks recoil. 
 
 The winds fall calm, and far the vapours flee. 
 
 And threatening billows, at their sovereign will 
 Sink down recumbent on the heaving deep. 
 
 I hesitate to these in order next 
 Whether first Romulus, or the quiet reign 
 Of Numa, or Tarquinius’ fasces proud. 
 
 Or Cato’s noble death to celebrate. 
 
 In lofty verse I, grateful, will record 
 Regulus, the Scauri, and Fabricius, 
 
 And Paullus, pouring out his mighty soul 
 To death, when Punic victory was won. 
 
 Stern poverty and unpretending home 
 
 In farm paternal, could alone produce 
 
 Such hero fit for war ; and Curius brave 
 
 With locks uncombed ; and great Camillus’ name. 
 
 Marcellus’ fame increases like a tree 
 
 Increasing in the silent lapse of time. 
 
 Amid all others the bright Julian star 
 Shines like the moon among the lesser lights. 
 
 Oh, Sire and Guardian of the human race. 
 
 From Saturn sprung, to thee the Fates have given 
 The care of mighty Caesar ! Thou shalt reign. 
 And Caesar second to thee only be. 
 
 Whether defeated Parthians he shall drive 
 In triumph true, if Latium they molest, 
 
 19 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Or distant Seres or Indians subdue 
 In the far regions of the Eastern land ; 
 
 He, next to thee, shall rule the spreading world. 
 Impartial chief! Olympus thou shalt shake 
 With thy tremendous car ! Thou too shalt hurl 
 Thy lightnings hostile to polluted groves 1 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XIII. 
 To Lydia. 
 
 'WITHEN you pink neck of Telephus 
 And waxen arms caress, 
 
 Lydia, my heart with anger swells. 
 
 Not easy to repress. 
 
 My mind and colour both unfixed, 
 
 ^My cheek the tear bedews. 
 
 Thus proving how the lasting fire 
 My inmost soul subdues. 
 
 I rage if furious strife o’er wine 
 
 Hath stained your shoulders white, 
 
 Or if mad youth his mark impress 
 Upon your lips with bite. 
 
 Hear me, nor hope he’ll constant prove 
 Who your sweet kisses harms. 
 
 Which Venus has engifted with 
 Ouintessence of her charms. 
 
 Thrice blest and more are they who are 
 By union firm held fast ; 
 
 Whose love, untouched by quarrels sad, 
 To-day supreme shall last. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 To THE Republic. 
 
 |H, Ship ! what new waves bear thee back 
 To sea ? What dost thou do ? 
 
 Hold firm to port. Behold what lack 
 Of oars thy side doth show ! 
 
 Thy splintered mast and sail-yards groan 
 Before swift southern blast! 
 
 The raging sea, thy cordage gone, 
 
 Now thou canst hardly breast ! 
 
 Thy sails are rent, thy Gods are lost. 
 
 Nor hear thy wailings loud, 
 
 Altho’ the Pontic pine thou boast. 
 
 The forest’s daughter proud. 
 
 Useless mere race and noble name. 
 Nought timid sailors care 
 
 For painted poops. Lest thou become 
 The sport of winds beware ! 
 
 Oh, thou ! my trouble late, but now 
 Mine anxious care and pride. 
 
 The shining Cyclades may’st thou 
 And tossing seas avoid ! 
 
1300K 1. 
 
 ODE XV. 
 
 Nereus’ Prophecy of the P'all of Troy. 
 
 W HEN the perfidious shepherd o’er the seas 
 In Trojan ships his hostess Helen drew, 
 Nereus in hateful calm the rapid breeze 
 
 Suppressed, that he might sing the fatal woe :— 
 
 “ An evil bride to your paternal home 
 
 “ You now conduct ; for Greece, confederate 
 ‘ To break your vows, with mighty force shall come, 
 “ And overthrow old Priam’s ancient state. 
 
 “ Alas ! to horses and to men what sweat 
 
 “ Is now at hand ! What fun’rals do you bear 
 “ To the Dardanian race ! With awful threat 
 “ Her helm and shield doth Pallas now prepare, 
 
 “ Her chariot and her rage ! Venus, your aid, 
 
 “ You vainly strut and comb your bushy hair, 
 
 “ And songs recite dear to each tender maid 
 ‘ To harp unwarlike, whilst you shun the spear 
 
 “ In chamber feared, the pointed Cretan reed, 
 
 “ Ajax’ swift chase and battle’s horrid din. 
 
 “ Alas ! in filthy dust shall be besmeared 
 
 “ At last those dainty locks so steeped in sin ! 
 
r 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 “ What mighty heroes shall you not behold ? j 
 
 “ Laertes’ son, the ruin of your race, \ 
 
 “ Nestor of Pylos, and young Teuccr bold ! 
 
 “ Of Salamis, and warlike Sthenelus, '! 
 
 “No sluggish driver the swift steeds to guide ; i 
 
 “ And Meriones also shall you know ; 
 
 “ And fierce Tydides, in heroic pride \ 
 
 “ Beyond his sire, shall seek your overthrow. ! 
 
 “ Whom you, panting like timid stag, shall flee \ 
 
 “ Heedless of pasture, on the further side i 
 
 “ Of the deep vale when he a wolf doth see ;— i 
 
 “ Not like to this your promise to your bride ! i 
 
 “ Incens’d Achilles’ fleet awhile shall stay s 
 
 “ The doom of Ilium and of Phrygian wives ; > 
 
 “ Not many winters yet shall pass away ? 
 
 “ Ere Grecian fire shall burn the Trojan hives.” i 
 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XVL 
 
 A Recantation. 
 
 0 ,H, daughter fairer than thy mother fair, 
 
 My cruel verses, in what mode soe’er 
 Thou wilt, destroy : or in the fire. 
 
 Or Hadrian wave, if thou desire. 
 
 Not Rhea, nor Pythius, dweller in the shrine. 
 
 So wildly agitates the priestly mind ; 
 
 Nor Bacchus thus, nor Maenads rash 
 Redouble blows with brazen clash, 
 
 As dreadful wrath ; which neither raging flame. 
 Nor ship-destroying sea, hath pow’r to tame. 
 Nor Noric sword, nor mighty Jove, 
 
 With crash descending from above. 
 
 When first Prometheus fashioned us from clay. 
 Some grain of everything, traditions say, 
 Compell’d to add, his cruel art 
 Put lion’s rage in human heart. 
 
ODES OF HORACE, 
 
 Wrath hurled Thyestes to a dreadful doom ; 
 
 To lofty cities hath destruction come 
 
 From that sad cause, when vaunting foe 
 Drove o’er their walls the hostile plough, 
 
 And their foundations levelled with the ground. 
 
 Restrain thy wrath. Alas ! that once I found 
 In thoughtless youth my ardent mind 
 By rage possess’d, in which I penn’d 
 
 Those bitter lines. But now to change I long 
 
 Harsh thoughts for kindly ones, and insults strong 
 Recanted, may’st thou friendly prove 
 And give me back thy tender love. 
 
BOOK i. 
 
 ODE XVII. 
 r O T Y N D A R I S . 
 
 I'f^OR fair Lucretilis doth Faunus swift 
 A Lycoeus oft desert, 
 
 Who doth hot summer and the rainy winds 
 From my she-goats avert. 
 
 Thro’ woods secure the he-goats’ wand’ring wives 
 Wild strawberry and thyme 
 In safety seek. The pretty little kids 
 
 Fear not green serpents’ slime, 
 
 Nor savage wolves. Now, Tyndaris, the vales 
 And the smooth rocks above 
 Ustica nestling deep, to thy sweet pipe 
 Echo the strains of love. 
 
 The Gods guard me. My virtues and my Muse 
 Dear to each God-like heart ; 
 
 Whilst Plenty’s bounteous horn full fill’d to thee 
 Shall rural v^ealth impart. 
 
^ -V*- 
 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Here in deep vale thou shalt the dog-star’s heat 
 Avoid ; on Teian string 
 One man Penelope and Circe bright 
 To love inspiring sing. 
 
 Here harmless Lesbian cup thou shalt enjoy 
 Under the shade, nor shall 
 The son of Semele with Mars contend. 
 
 Lest Cyrus thee assail 
 
 With unchaste hands in wanton passion hot, 
 Belov’d, thou need’st not fear, 
 
 Nor lest the garland in thy tresses twin’d 
 And modest robe he tear. 
 
 28 
 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XVIIL 
 
 To Varus. 
 
 ARUS, plant thou no tree before the sacred vine 
 
 r In Tibur’s fertile soil or by Catilus’ wall, 
 
 For thirsting souls doth God to cruel pangs consign 
 And by no other means our biting cares recoil. 
 
 Who, after wine, can war or poverty abuse ? 
 
 Who does not Father Bacchus or fair Venus call ? 
 
 But, lest of Bacchus’ gifts you pass the mod’rate use. 
 
 Let Centaurs’ strife with Lapithae in drunken brawl 
 
 Warn you. Evius the greedy Thracians warned in wrath, 
 When in their lust they could not right from wrong 
 disclose. 
 
 Bright Bassareus ! thee shrinking I will not drag forth. 
 
 Nor will I rashly to the air of heaven expose 
 
 Those mysteries of thine ’neath varied foliage hid. 
 
 Cease then the blatant drums and Berecyntian horn 
 By blind Self-Love and Boastfulness with empty head 
 High held, and treach’rous Faith, as glass transparent. 
 
 borne. 
 

 ODES OP" HORACE. 
 
 ODE XiX. 
 On Glvcera 
 
 XW^HE cruel mother of the Loves, 
 III The son of Theban Semele, 
 And frolic Licence me reproves 
 That love forsaken was by me. 
 
 Me Glycera’s sweet beauty burns, 
 
 Than Parian marble fairer too. 
 
 My brain her arch coquetting turns, 
 Her lustrous face too bright to view. 
 
 Venus, possessing all my heart, 
 
 Has Cyprus left, nor lets me sing 
 
 Of Scythians, nor of Parthian stout 
 On flying steed, nor anything. 
 
 Ho ! slaves, bring here the living grass. 
 The frankincense and green vervain ; 
 
 Of two-year’s wine Pll pour a glass 
 And her appease by victim slain. 
 
 
 
 
 30 
 

 BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XX. 
 
 1' o Maecenas. 
 
 AECENAS thou, dear knight, shalt drink 
 Poor Sabine wine from goblets small. 
 Which in a Grecian cask I stored 
 When with thy praises rung the hall 
 
 So loud that from the lofty banks 
 Of thy paternal river came. 
 
 And from the mount of Vatican 
 The joyous echo of thy fame. 
 
 Grapes squeezed in the Calenian press. 
 Rich Caecuban is also thine. 
 
 But neither mantle in my cups 
 The Formian nor Falernian wine. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXL 
 
 On Diana and Apollo. 
 
 ^VVEET virgins, chaunt Diana’s praise, 
 
 To unshorn C 3 .mthius, boys, the chorus raise, 
 Latona, dearest love 
 Of Jove, supreme above. 
 
 Sing, girls, to her the streams who loves. 
 Of frosty Algidus the shady groves. 
 
 On Erymanthus seen. 
 
 Or lofty Cragus green. 
 
 Tempe and Delos, natal place 
 Of Phoebus, boys, extol with equal grace. 
 Whose shoulder quiver wears. 
 His brother’s lyre he bears. 
 
 The one sad war, the other dearth 
 And plague, to Medes and Britons shall drive forth ; 
 To Romans and their chief 
 Your prayers shall bring relief. 
 

 
 BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXII. 
 
 To A R I S T I u s F u s c u s. 
 
 A|^HE man whose life is just and pure 
 Needs not the javelin of the Moor, 
 Nor bow, nor quiver’s ample store, 
 Fuscus, of poisoned darts. 
 
 Sailing thro’ Syrtes’ boiling waves ; 
 
 Or when wild Caucasus he braves ; 
 
 Or lands which famed Hydaspes laves. 
 On journey safe he starts. 
 
 For whilst I wandered carelessly 
 Thro’ Sabine wood, my Falage 
 Singing, a wolf fled far from me, 
 
 Tho’ helpless and unarmed. 
 
 Such monster thro’ the spreading groves 
 Of warlike Daunia never moves. 
 
 Such the dry land which Juba loves, 
 Hath never yet alarmed. 
 
 c 
 
 33 
 
34 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXIII. 
 To C II L O E . 
 
 ’OU shun me, Chloe, like a fawn 
 Her trembling mother seeking 
 O’er pathless hills, with causeless fear 
 Of winds and branches creaking. 
 
 At rustling murmur of the leaves. 
 
 The dawn of spring awaking. 
 
 Or brambles stirr’d by lizards green. 
 Both heart and knees are shaking. 
 
 No lion I, nor tiger rough. 
 
 With fell intent pursue thee ; 
 
 Then leave thy mother’s side at last. 
 Of age for man to woo thee. 
 
 35 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXIV. 
 To Virgil 
 
 l^IRGIL, what shame or limit shall there be 
 Y Of sorrow for the loss of one so dear ? 
 
 Now teach me mournful strains, Melpomene, 
 
 To whom God gave the harp and accents clear. 
 
 Sleeps then Quinctilius in eternal death ? 
 
 Oh ! when shall Modesty and Faith unstained. 
 
 Of Justice sister pure, and unveiled Truth 
 
 The equal find to him whose life hath waned ? 
 
 For his sad death do many good men weep ; 
 
 More deeply none than you in grief complain ! 
 Alas ! Quinctilius, whom the Gods now keep. 
 
 Your piety must still demand in vain ! 
 
 What tho’ more sweetly to the list’ning woods 
 
 Than Thracian Orpheus you could sound the lyre. 
 The life may not return to empty shades 
 When Mercury at last, with aspect dire. 
 
 To prayers unyielding, instrument of Fate, 
 
 To the black throng hath driven with awful wand ! 
 ’Tis hard indeed ! But patience will abate 
 Those evils ’tis unlawful to amend. 
 
 
 
 3b 
 
BOOK 1. 
 
 
 ODE XXV. 
 To Lydia. 
 
 M ore seldom now your windows close 
 
 The youths attack with doubled blows, 
 Your door unto its threshold grows, 
 
 Which oped on hinges flying. 
 
 More seldom are your slumbers drear 
 Disturbed ; more seldom do you hear :— 
 
 “ All night why sleep’st thou, Lydia dear, 
 
 “ Whilst I for thee am dying ? ” 
 
 An aged crone, you’ll sorrow soon 
 In lonely den, for lovers gone, 
 
 Whilst thro’ the changes of the moon 
 The Thracian wind is raging. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Hot youth the living ivy more. 
 
 And sprouting myrtle, doth adore, 
 
 Than withered leaves on Hebrus’ shore, 
 
 Cold winter’s comrades, drifting. 
 
 37 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXVL 
 
 On a e l I u s Lamia. 
 
 F riend of the Muse, to boist’rous p;ales 
 ril cast all grief and fear, 
 
 To Cretan sea to bear: 
 
 What region Arctic king assails 
 
 Careless, or Tiridates’ grief. 
 
 Sweet Muse, whom fountains clear 
 Delight, the sunny flower 
 For Lamia mine in garland weave. 
 
 Without thee valueless is praise: 
 
 Thou and thy sisters too 
 My friend with lute-strings new 
 And Lesbian bow, immortalize. 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXVII. 
 
 To MY Comrades. 
 
 ^WKO fight o’er cups for joys designed 
 A Indeed is but a Thracian way ; 
 Banish such savage use ! Abstain, 
 
 In mod’rate wine, from bloody fray. 
 
 Ill does the dagger of the Mede 
 
 With sparkling wine and lights accord ! 
 Cease wicked riot; comrades, stay 
 On elbows pressed around the board. 
 
 Of strong Falernian do you wish 
 That I should also take my part ? 
 
 Let young Megilla’s brother tell 
 
 His happy wound, his love-cleft heart! 
 
 You wont ? Then I refuse to drink 
 On other terms. Whatever love 
 Burns you should never raise a blush. 
 
 But pure and innocent should prove. 
 
I 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Come, boy, whate’er thy passion be, 
 
 To faithful ears entrust the tale.— 
 Wretch ! worthy of a nobler flame. 
 Near what Charybdis dost thou sail ? 
 
 What witch, or what Thessalian sage, 
 What God indeed can set thee free ? 
 Triformed Chimaera holds thee bound. 
 Scarce Pegasus could rescue thee! 
 
 40 
 
ODE XXVIIL 
 Archytas. 
 
 RCHYTAS, measurer of earth and sea 
 And countless sand, the gift denied to thee 
 Of but a little dust, to hold prevails 
 Upon Matinus’ shore ! Nought it avails 
 
 To have explored in thought the realms of sky 
 And all the rotund world, foredoomed to die ! 
 Guest of the Gods, so too died Pclops’ sire : 
 
 To heaven Tithonus must at last aspire : 
 
 And Minos, tho’ Jove’s secrets given to know. 
 Pythagoras sent back to shades below 
 Orcus contains, altho’ Euphorbus’ shield 
 Retaken, Troy recalled. Did he but yield 
 
 Sinews and skin alone to livid death ? 
 
 Say thou, keen judge of nature and of truth ! 
 
 Ah ! the same night shall shroud each mortal head. 
 And the same path of death we all must tread ! 
 
 41 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 As sport to Mars the Furies some consign ; 
 
 Sailors are swallowed by the greedy brine. 
 
 Together mixed, the funerals combine 
 
 Of old and young : none spares dread Proserpine! 
 
 The swift South wind, Orion’s setting mate. 
 
 In waves Illyrian swept me to my fate. 
 
 Sailor ! grudge not a little shifting sand 
 To hide my body in the cruel strand. 
 
 So when the East wind threats th’ Hesperian sea 
 The Venusinian woods shall shaken be. 
 
 Yet you be safe. And still may rich reward 
 Be yours from every port, just Jove your guard 
 
 And Neptune, keeper of Tarentum’s shrine. 
 
 Beware lest lightly you commit a crime 
 Your offspring must repay. Appointed doom 
 And retribution stern on you shall come. 
 
 No useless prayers will e’er suffice for me. 
 
 From death no expiation set you free. 
 
 ’Twill not delay you long, tho’ great your speed. 
 The dust thrice cast on me, you may proceed. 
 
 42 
 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXIX. 
 To Ic c I u s. 
 
 I CCIUS, the rich Arabian spoils 
 'You covet now, and cruel war 
 ’Gainst hitherto unconquered kings 
 Of Saba and fierce Mede, prepare. 
 
 Fetters you link. What barb’rous girl, 
 
 Her husband slain, your slave shall bend ? 
 What princely boy, with locks perfumed. 
 
 On you with wine-cup shall attend. 
 
 Taught with paternal bow to aim 
 The Seric darts ? Who will deny 
 That flowing rivers may return 
 To lofty hills, and Tiber dry, 
 
 Since you, who promised better things, 
 (Panaetius’ noble books you bought,) 
 
 Now the Socratic school exchange 
 For corslets in Iberia wrought. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXX. 
 To Venus. 
 
 NIDOS’ and Paphos’ beauteous Queen 
 5 Oh Venus ! Cyprus lov’d disdain, 
 And haste to Glycera’s stately fane, 
 
 With incense thee invoking ! 
 
 Haste thy bright Boy, the Graces three 
 With zones unbound, and Nymphs with thee 
 And lusty Youth, and Mercury, 
 
 Without thee little pleasing ! 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXXI. 
 To Apollo. 
 
 dedication of Apollo’s shrine 
 What asks the bard ? What is his prayer 
 When pouring from the chalice newest wine ? 
 Not rich Sardinia’s harvest rare ; 
 
 Nor hot Calabria’s fruitful herds ; nor gold, 
 
 ' Nor ivory of Ind ; nor fields 
 Which the still waters of the stream enfold 
 Where Liris, silent river, glides. 
 
 
 Let those who from fair fortune vineyards hold, 
 With pruning-knife of Cales cut! 
 
 Let the rich merchant quaff from cups of gold. 
 The wines with Syran profits bought! 
 
 Lov’d of the Gods, since safely every year 
 He thrice or four times ploughs the sea 
 
 Of Atlas vast! The olive is my fare. 
 
 Endive and mallow light for me. 
 
 Son of Latona ! grant me to enjoy 
 My own with mind and body sane ! 
 
 Nor let dishonour my old age alloy. 
 
 Nor let me crave the lyre in vain ! 
 
 45 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXXIL 
 To My Lyre. 
 
 46 
 
 ^ E*RE called ! If idly in the shade, 
 r r Oh Lyre I with thee Eve ever played 
 In future years what ne’er shall fade, 
 
 Xow sound a Latin ode. 
 
 Thee Lesbian townsman first did sound 
 Who, fierce in war, when peace returned, 
 
 Or when his battered keel he found 
 
 To sea-s^vept shore was moored, 
 
 Of Bacchus sang, and Muses coy. 
 
 Of Venus, and the sprightly Boy 
 Her comrade. Lycus, comely too. 
 
 Black both his eyes and hair. 
 
 Oh ! honoured by Apollo’s love 
 Harp, grateful at the feasts of Jove, 
 
 To labours mine propitious prove. 
 
 And hear my constant prayer. 
 
 } 
 
 
 I 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXXIIL 
 To Albius Tibullus. 
 
 LBIUS, lament not thou too long 
 Hard-hearted Glycera’s broken vow. 
 Nor chaunt thy grief in mournful song, 
 Because she loves a younger now. 
 
 Lycoris, famed for forehead small, 
 
 For Cyrus burns ; Pholoe rough 
 Cyrus prefers ; but sooner shall 
 The she-goat wed Apulian wolf. 
 
 Than she with that vile sinner mate. 
 
 Thus Venus wills. With cruel joke. 
 Bodies and souls ill-matched by fate. 
 
 She loves to bind in brazen yoke. 
 
 Whilst nobler love was seeking me. 
 Slave-born Myrtale held me fast 
 In pleasing chain, wild as the sea 
 Of Hadria on Calabrian coast. 
 
 47 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXXIV. 
 
 |r||F Gods a worshipper remiss and rare, 
 
 \F Whilst erring wisdom’s tenets once I held ; 
 Backward to sail, paths that deserted were 
 Again to traverse, I am now compelled. 
 
 For the God-Father, who oft-times divides 
 
 With flashing fire the clouds, thro’ clear sky now 
 His thund’ring coursers and swift chariot guides. 
 Now the dull earth and wand’ring rivers’ flow, 
 
 Now the black Styx, and that most dread abode 
 Of hated Taenarus, and the distant range 
 Of Atlas huge, are shaken by the God. 
 
 The lowest depths to loftiest heights to change 
 
 Can God prevail. Th’ exalted he brings down. 
 And lifts the poor. Rapacious Fortune tears. 
 With crashing sound, from one the lofty crown, 
 Which she rejoices when another wears. 
 
 
 
 ^ V 
 
 48 
 
BOOK 1. 
 
 ODE XXXV. 
 To Fortune 
 
 ODDESS ! who dost o’er pleasant Antium reign, 
 Potent poor mortal man to raise again 
 From lowest step, or triumphs proud 
 To change at will to wailings loud. 
 
 Thee the poor rustic, with entreaty grave. 
 Solicits. Thee, queen of the tossing wave. 
 
 In gallant bark Bithynian he 
 
 Who ploughs the deep Carpathian sea. 
 
 Thee the rough Dacian, thee the flying Mede, 
 Cities, and nations, and fierce Latium dread ; 
 
 Of barbarous kings the mothers dear. 
 And tyrants clad in purple fear. 
 
 The standing column do not overturn 
 With spurning foot ; nor let the people burn 
 With mad sedition, nor incite 
 Those ceasing now, the realm to smite. 
 
 D 
 
 49 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Stern Fate before thee doth for ever stand, 
 
 Huge spikes and wedges in her brazen hand 
 She bears, nor is the rivet dread 
 Forgotten, nor the molten lead. 
 
 Thee Hope doth worship, and infrequent Faith, 
 
 Veiled in white robe, nor doth she quit thy path 
 Altho’, thy vesture changed, in grief 
 The houses of the great thou leave. 
 
 When faithless crowd and perjured wanton fly ; 
 
 When treach’rous friends, on whom you now rely. 
 Prove faithless in misfortune’s strain, 
 
 And to the dregs your casks you drain. 
 
 Preserve thou Caesar, now about to go 
 
 To distant Britain, and his levies new. 
 
 Whom Eastern lands with fear shall sec. 
 And ruddy Erythraean sea. 
 
 Alas ! of scars and fratricidal rage 
 
 I am ashamicd. What have we fled, harsh age ? 
 
 What sin is left untouched ? What pains 
 Of Gods the hand of youth restrains ? 
 
 What altars have they spared ? Oh ! I would fain 
 
 Our blunted swords that thou would’st forge again 
 On anvil new, to overthrow 
 Massagctac and Arab foe. 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 ODE XXXVI. 
 
 To Plotius Numida. 
 
 If ITITH incense and with lyre I praise, 
 
 And with a votive heifer slain, 
 
 The guardian Gods of Numida ; 
 
 Who, safe returned from distant Spain, 
 
 ■ 
 
 To his dear comrades kisses gives 
 Now many, yet to no one more 
 Than to sweet Lamia, mindful of 
 Their boyish pranks in days of yore. 
 
 And virile gown together donned. 
 
 Mark this bright day with chalk from Crete, 
 Nor spare the wine-jar now produced. 
 
 Nor rest from Salian dance the feet. 
 
 Let not the thirsty Damalis 
 
 In Thracian draught with Bassus vie. 
 
 Nor rose be absent from the feast. 
 
 Nor parsley fresh, nor lily shy. 
 
 On Damalis their longing eyes 
 All fix, yet she from lover new 
 Will not be torn away, to whom 
 Like clinging ivy she is true. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXXVII. 
 
 To MY Companions. 
 
 W, comrades, is the time to drink, 
 
 To beat the ground with nimble feet 
 And now the temples to adorn 
 
 Of Gods with Salian feasts ’tis meet. 
 
 Till now unlawful to bring forth. 
 
 From stores ancestral, Caecuban, 
 
 Whilst ruin to the Capitol 
 
 And Empire’s fall prepared the Queen. 
 
 Surrounded by her creatures base. 
 
 Foul with disease, she weakly raved 
 And, drunk with fortune, all things hoped : 
 But scarce from flames one galley saved. 
 
 Bated her rage, and forced her mind. 
 
 With Mareotic wine possessed. 
 
 Flying, real fears to entertain ; 
 
 When Caesar in swift galleys pressed 
 
 From Italy, (as gentle doves 
 
 A hawk pursues, or hunter keen. 
 
 In snowy Haemus’ fields, the hare). 
 
 That he might give to binding chain 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 The fatal monster, who nor feared, 
 Effeminate, the sharp-edged brand. 
 Seeking a nobler death, nor fled 
 In galley swift to unknown land. 
 
 Her falling palace dared to view 
 With eyes serene, and angry snake 
 To fondle bravely in her breast. 
 
 That fatal venom she might take. 
 
 Firm in premeditated death. 
 
 No trembling girl, she scorned, I ween. 
 By rough Liburnians to be led 
 
 In triumph proud,—a discrowned Queen. 
 
 ) 
 
 53 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXXVIII. 
 To MV Slave. 
 
 H Slave ! the Persian pomps I hate, 
 Garlands I hate with linden twined, 
 Cease, where the last rose lingers late. 
 Thy search to find. 
 
 To simple myrtle let thy care 
 
 Nought add I pray ; thou serving wine 
 And quaffing I, both fitly wear 
 
 ’Neath branching vine. 
 

 BOOK II. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 ODE I. 
 
 To Asinius Pollio. 
 
 HE Civil War you write, which first began 
 Metellus Consul ; of its cause, its plan. 
 Its crimes ; of fortune’s varying turn. 
 And of its chieftains’ compact stern ; 
 
 And of arms stained with gore still unatoned. ' 
 Your work with risk and danger doth abound ; 
 Walking o’er hidden fires, you trust 
 Yourself to ashes’ treach’rous crust. 
 
 Your tragic studies now awhile abate. 
 
 Whilst your own country’s hist’ry you relate : 
 
 That great work done, you may again 
 To Grecian tragedy return. 
 
 Pollio, of sad defendants advocate, 
 
 Bri ght ornament of consulting Senate ; 
 
 Dalmatian triumphs circle now 
 Eternal laurels round your brow. 
 
 55 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 And now our ears with trumpets’ threat’ning blare 
 You stun ; now clarions ring ; now armour’s glare 
 The flying courser terrifies, 
 
 And blinds the gallant horseman’s eyes. 
 
 Of mighty leaders now I seem to hear, 
 
 Whom no dishonourable stains besmear ; 
 
 I hear of all the world subdued. 
 
 Save stubborn Cato’s fortitude. 
 
 Juno, and all the Gods to Libya kind. 
 
 Helpless t’ avenge, that land have left behind ; 
 
 The offspring of the victors brave 
 Are offered on Jugurtha’s grave. 
 
 What land, by tombs enriched with Latin gore. 
 Does not bear witness of our impious war ? 
 
 The echoes of Hesperia’s fall 
 Are heard on distant Persia’s soil. 
 
 What pool, what rivers, ignorant remain 
 Of wretched strife ? What sea the hideous stain 
 Of Daunian slaughter does not know ? 
 
 On what shore does our blood not flow ?— 
 
 But cease, my sprightly Muse, this fun’ral strain. 
 Thy merry mood forgot, t’ attempt again ; 
 
 On cheerful harp a lighter stave 
 Come sing with me in Venus’ cave! 
 
 ) 
 
S. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 To Crispus Sallustius. 
 
 ^RISPUS SALLUSTIUS, who mere dross dost scorn, 
 No beauty can there be in silvern coin 
 When it is hid in greedy earth. 
 
 In template use its only worth. 
 
 To lengthened age shall Proculeius live 
 
 Who, like a father, did the wants relieve 
 
 Of his lov’d brothers. Lasting fame. 
 
 On wing untiring, bears his name. 
 
 A wider empire thou shalt truly find 
 
 All greed by banishing from out thy mind. 
 
 Than if Libya far Gades join. 
 
 Thee Carthaginian serve alone. 
 
 By self-indulgence dropsy will increase ; 
 
 Nor can you conquer thirst, till of disease 
 
 The cause from veins hath taken flight, 
 
 And water from the body white. 
 
 
 57 
 
1 
 
 ODES OF EIORACE. 
 
 Virtue, aye differing from the common herd, 
 Excepts Phraates, to the throne restored 
 
 Of Cyrus, from the band of blest. 
 How false the voices of the rest ! 
 
 To him alone a kingdom will she give. 
 
 Safe crown and laurel certain, who can live. 
 
 Nor e’er with wistful eye behold 
 The heaps piled high of ruddy gold. 
 
 
 
 5« 
 
 
BOOK TI. 
 
 ODE HI. 
 
 To Dellius. 
 
 1 |ELLIUS, ere long to die, do thou maintain 
 ^ In poverty a steadfast heart; 
 
 Nor, if thou should’st prosperity attain. 
 
 Let it a boastful joy impart! 
 
 Whether in sorrow hath thy life been spent. 
 
 Or thou thro’ festal days recline 
 In some secluded rustic home content. 
 
 Quaffing the old Falernian wine. 
 
 Where the tall pine and silver poplar love 
 Their boughs to join in grateful shade ; 
 
 Where the swift brooklet dashes through the grove, 
 With rippling stream o’er winding bed. 
 
 Here wines and perfumes order to be borne. 
 
 And short-liv’d buds of dainty rose. 
 
 Whilst means, and youth, and sable threads unspun 
 Of the three sisters, fate allows. 
 
 59 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 From purchased groves, from home, thou must depart. 
 Thy villa tawny Tiber by ; 
 
 Thine heir shall take the wealth which now thou art 
 With anxious labour piling high. 
 
 It matters not however rich thou be. 
 
 From ancient Inachus descend ; 
 
 Or poor and low, thine only roof the sky, 
 
 Unpitying Orcus is thine end. 
 
 To the same bourne Fates ev’ry mortal drive ; 
 
 In the same urn of all the lot 
 Is cast ; to endless exile we arrive. 
 
 Sooner or later by the boat. 
 
 6o 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 To Xanthias Phoceus. 
 
 X ANTHIAS PHOCEUS, be not ashamed 
 Because you love your pretty slave, 
 
 For snowy skin Briseis famed 
 
 Once fired with love Achilles brave : 
 
 Lord Ajax, son of Telamon, 
 
 Captive Tecmessa’s beauty moved ; 
 
 A ravish’d maid, Agamemnon, 
 
 In midst of triumph hotly loved. 
 
 When the barbarian troops were slain 
 In the Thessalian victory ; 
 
 And, Hector dead, did Troy remain 
 To weary Greeks an easy prey. 
 
 For aught you know fair Phyllis springs 
 Of fit descent with you to mate ; 
 
 Descended from a line of kings. 
 
 She weeps an unpropitious fate. 
 
 6i 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Think not that she who wins your love 
 Comes of a vile plebeian race ; 
 
 So faithful she, all greed above, 
 
 Cannot be born of mother base. 
 
 Untouched myself, her arms I praise. 
 Her face, and her proportions fair ; 
 Let .not my song suspicion raise. 
 
 Who now approach my fortieth year. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 OT yet ’tis fitting that her neck should wear 
 /L Y i"he heavy yoke, nor can she equal prove 
 To matron’s duties, nor the burden bear 
 
 Of eager husband’s love. 
 
 Of verdant fields your heifer thinks instead. 
 Delighting now the sultry heat t’ assuage 
 In flowing streams, now in moist osier bed 
 
 With calves in play t’ engage. 
 
 Do not indulge a craving appetite 
 
 For unripe grapes ; soon autumn will for you 
 
 The half-grown clusters change to purple bright 
 
 From their now pallid hue. 
 
 Soon will she love you ; warm maturity 
 Hastes on ; the years it shall have ta’en from you 
 Will soon be hers ; soon Lalage 
 
 A husband will pursue. 
 
 63 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Than fading Pholoe or than Chloris she 
 
 Far more beloved ; her shoulders gleaming white, 
 
 As the pure moon upon the midnight sea, 
 
 Or Cnidian Gyges bright; 
 
 Whom, if among a group of girls you lead, 
 
 His flowing locks and doubtful countenance 
 So slightly differ, that they might mislead, 
 
 A stranger’s keenest glance. 
 
■ ^1^. 
 
 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 To S E P T I M I U S . 
 
 S EPTIMIUS, who with me would fly 
 To Gades, or the Cantabri 
 Untamed to yoke, or where wild Syrtes o’er 
 The Moorish waves aye roar. 
 
 May Tibur, founded by the Greeks, 
 
 The refuge be my old age seeks, 
 
 There the fatigues of sea be known no more. 
 Of travel, or of war. 
 
 Whence if the angry PMtes debar. 
 Galaesus’ streams, which pleasing are 
 To fleecy sheep. Til seek, and Spartan plains 
 O’er which Phalantus reigns. 
 
 That corner of the earth I love 
 The most, where doth the honey prove 
 Sweet as Hymettus’, and whose olives’ size 
 With green Venafrian vies. 
 
 E 
 
 65 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Where a long spring the climate yields 
 And winters mild, where Aulon shields 
 The fruitful vine ; and where one covets least 
 Falernian grapes to feast. 
 
 That country and those happy heights 
 Demand us both, whilst love invites 
 Thee o’er the ashes of thy poet-friend there 
 To shed affection’s tear. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 To POMPEY. 
 
 O H ! oft reduced with me to hardest straits, 
 
 When Brutus was our leader in the war ; 
 
 Who hath restored thee to thy civil rights, 
 
 Thy country’s Gods, and the Italian shore, 
 
 Pompey, thou dearest of my friends? With thee 
 Oft have I whiled away with purest wine 
 The ling’ring day. Then, crowned my tresses free 
 With unguents from far Syria brought, did shine. 
 
 With thee Philippi and swift flight I found. 
 
 My shield ingloriously away was thrown. 
 
 When valour shattered was, and to base ground 
 Fell daring warriors on their faces prone. 
 
 In a dense cloud swift Mercury bore me 
 
 Through hostile ranks, all trembling with affright ; 
 In boiling waves the sea engulphed thee. 
 
 Bearing thee back again to furious fight. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 But now restored, give thou to Father Jove 
 The feast thou promised, and thy form recline, 
 By long war wearied, in my laurel grove. 
 
 Nor spare thy destined gift, my casks of wine. 
 
 With care-dispelling Massic do thou fill 
 
 The sparkling glasses, and pour perfumes rich 
 From the capacious shell. What slave now will 
 Weave garlands quickly from the parsley fresh, 
 
 Or from the myrtle ? Whom shall Venus name 
 As ruler of the feast ? Fll rave as mad 
 As Bacchanals ! When I my friend reclaim. 
 
 To lose my senses in delight Fm glad. 
 
BOOK TI. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 To Bakin e. 
 
 I F any penalty for oath forsworn 
 
 Had ever injured thee, Barine fair ; 
 
 If thou, by blacken’d tooth, or one nail gone. 
 Less lovely did’st appear, 
 
 I might believe thee. But thy faithless brow 
 No sooner dost thou bind with oaths again. 
 Than fairer still thou shinest, and dost grow 
 Of youth the gen’ral pain. 
 
 To thee ’tis of advantage to deceive 
 Thy mother’s buried corse, and silent signs 
 Of night, and heaven itself, and Gods to grieve. 
 Free from cold death’s confines. 
 
 Venus herself, I tell thee, laughs at this. 
 
 The careless Nymphs and cruel Cupid smile. 
 His glowing darts who always sharp’ning is 
 On bloody hone the while. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Then add to this that all the growing boys 
 Still grow for thee, a band of lovers new ; 
 Nor do the old quit their hard mistress’ joys, 
 Oft threat’ning so to do. 
 
 Now for their young ones ’gainst thee mothers pray 
 And misers old ; and youthful matrons fear, 
 
 Still dreading lest thy beauty steal away 
 
 From them their husbands dear. 
 
 
 70 
 
BOOK II, 
 
 ODE IX. 
 
 To Valgius. 
 
 OT always from the clouds do showers descend 
 
 Ay Upon the furrowed fields ; nor aye contend 
 The varying storms with Caspian main ; 
 Nor does the inert ice remain, 
 
 Friend Valgius, on the wild Armenian shore 
 Thro’ the whole year ; nor always north winds roar 
 
 The oaks of Garganus around, 
 
 Nor ash-leaves flutter to the ground. 
 
 Yet thou dost always Mystes lost pursue 
 With mournful measures, and thy love renew 
 
 Again at Vesper’s evening rise. 
 And when the rapid sun he flies. 
 
 For sweet Antilochus, that aged man 
 Thro’ his long life, prolonged to triple span. 
 
 Mourned not ; nor did his parents, nor 
 His Phrygian sisters aye deplore 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Young Troilus. Thy tender murmuring 
 Now cease at length, and rather let us sing 
 Augustus Caesar’s triumphs bold 
 Renewed, and the Niphates cold, 
 
 And Median stream which, added to the spoils 
 That he hath won, in lesser volume rolls ; 
 
 And the Geloni, who are tied 
 In narrow bound prescribed to ride. 
 
 
 
 
 
 72 
 
HOOK II. 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 To L I c I N I u s . 
 
 ICINIUS, thou wilt better fare, 
 
 iLf Not always traversing the deep ; 
 Nor, dreading storms with anxious care. 
 Too near the dangerous shore to keep. 
 
 Whoever loves the golden mean. 
 
 Avoids the squalor of a home 
 Decayed ; yet, prudent, will abstain 
 To envied palaces to come. 
 
 The lofty pine more often still 
 
 Is tempest-toss’d. With greater crash 
 High turrets fall. The loftiest hill 
 
 Attracts more oft the lightning’s flash. 
 
 A well-poised mind, if fates averse, 
 
 Hopes for a change ; but fears it when 
 Fair fortune smiles. Dread winter’s curse 
 The same God brings, and takes again. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 If now ’tis ill, it shall not aye 
 
 Be so. Phoebus sometimes will woo, 
 Upon his harp, the Muses shy. 
 
 Nor doth he always bend his bow. 
 
 When poverty your home assails. 
 
 Courage and patience ever show ; 
 
 But wisely then contract your sails, 
 
 When prosp’ring winds around you blow. 
 
 74 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE XL 
 
 To OUINCTIUS. 
 
 EASE, Quinctius, to enquire 
 What warlike Cantabri or Medes desire, 
 
 From us divided by the Hadrian sea ; 
 
 Nor let it trouble thee 
 
 For fleeting life to care. 
 
 Which little needs. Bright youth and beauty rare 
 Fly off; old age your wanton love expels. 
 
 And placid sleep dispels. 
 
 There’s not to vernal bloom 
 Same beauty ever ; nor the blushing moon 
 With same face shines. For heav’nly thoughts too small. 
 Why do you vex your soul ? 
 
 Why not let us recline. 
 
 Drinking, whilst yet we may, beneath the pine, 
 
 Or this tall plane, our hoary locks bedewed 
 With rose and Syrian nard ? 
 
▼ 
 
 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Evius our biting cares 
 
 Drives far away. What active slave appears 
 The hot Falernian cups to qualify, 
 
 From the stream flowing by ? 
 
 From home who will allure 
 The wanton Lyde here ? Her iv’ry lyre 
 Go, make her bring ; in trim knot bound her curls, 
 In style of Spartan girl’s. 
 
 
 
 
 76 
 

 
 BOOK II. 
 
 ODK XIL 
 
 T O M A E C 1^ N A S 
 
 A SK not that fierce Numantia’s lengthened war, 
 JA. Nor dire Hannibal, nor Sicilian sea. 
 Empurpled oft with Carthaginian gore, 
 
 Should to my peaceful lyre adapted be. 
 
 Nor ask me cruel Lapithae to tell. 
 
 Nor of Hylaeus overcome with wine. 
 
 Nor earth-born giants, who defeated fell 
 To Hercules, when Saturn’s ancient line 
 
 Disaster feared. Thou, in heroic verse. 
 
 Great Caesar’s wars fiir better shalt relate, 
 Maecenas, and the gloomy fate rehearse 
 
 Of threat’ning kings led captive through the street 
 
 Licymnia, mistress mine, my tuneful Muse 
 In sweetest song me now to sing desires. 
 And of her eyes resplendent, which infuse 
 Within her faithful bosom mutual fires. 
 
 77 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Whom it so well becomes in sacred dance 
 Her graceful feet to move, in jest to play, 
 
 Or with the beauteous virgins to join hands 
 In gleeful mirth, on famed Diana’s day. 
 
 One of Licymnia’s locks would’st thou consent 
 To change for all Achaemenes could give. 
 
 Or the Mygdonian hoards from Phrygia rent, 
 
 Or well stored domicile of Arab chief? 
 
 If she her neck to kisses hot display. 
 
 Or, gently cruel, sweet caress deny 
 Which, more than thou, she joys when snatch’d away 
 And sometimes will herself to ravish fly. 
 
 « 
 
 i 
 
 V 
 
 ! 
 
 1 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE XIII. 
 1' o A Tree 
 
 N an ill-omened day he planted thee 
 
 Who first did so. With impious hand, oh tree, 
 He raised thee ; ruin of his race, 
 
 And of his village the disgrace. 
 
 That his own father’s neck, I could believe. 
 
 He may have broken ; nor aught would it grieve 
 His soul the midnight blood to shed, 
 
 Of stranger sleeping in his bed. 
 
 In Colchian poisons did he doubtless deal. 
 
 And every wickedness that man can feel. 
 
 Who put thee in my field, vile tree. 
 About to fall on blameless me ! 
 
 You cannot always keep from danger clear, 
 Tho’ cautious still. The Punic sailors fear 
 
 The Bosphorus, but passed its gate, 
 They blindly seek an unknown fate. 
 
 79 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 At darts and flying Parthians soldiers quail, 
 Parthians at fetters and a Roman gaol ; 
 
 But death, with unexpected blow. 
 
 Hath seized, and will seize, men below. 
 
 Black Proserpine’s abodes I’d nearly seen. 
 
 And Aeacus the judge, and distant scene 
 
 Where dwell the good ; and Sappho fair. 
 Complaining in Aeolian air 
 
 Of her own sisters ; and Alcaeus old, 
 
 Sounding more fully on his harp of gold. 
 
 The hardships of the sea, of flight. 
 
 The hardships too of horrid fight. 
 
 At both the Shades still wonder that they tell 
 Things better left unspoken ; but too well 
 The stupid vulgar love to hear 
 Of banish’d tyrants and of war. 
 
 What wonder ! When the hundred-headed brute, 
 Black ears hung down, lists to that dulcet flute, 
 And the snakes twisted in the crown 
 Of the Eumenides sink down ! 
 
 So too Prometheus can forget his pain. 
 
 And Pelops’ father, at that charming strain ; 
 
 No more to drive Orion cares 
 Lions and lynxes from their lairs. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 To POSTUMUS. 
 
 A las ! oh Postumus ! oh Postumus ! 
 
 The flying years glide rapidly away ; 
 Nor piety to wrinkles, nor old age, 
 
 Nor to all-conqu’ring death can bring delay 
 
 My friend, stern Pluto you could not appease, 
 E’en by three hundred bulls on ev’ry day 
 That passes by : he who Tityus restrains, 
 With whom thrice-ample Geryon must stay 
 
 Under that awful river, thro’ whose flood 
 We all must navigate, you may be sure. 
 Whom the rich bounty of the earth sustains. 
 Whether great kings we be, or rustics poor. 
 
 In vain we sanguinary war avoid ; 
 
 The broken waves of Adriatic rough ; 
 
 In vain th’ injurious South wind shall we fear. 
 In autumn fatal to our bodies’ health. 
 
ODES OF HORACE, 
 
 Cocytus black; flowing with languid stream, 
 
 And the vile race of Danaus, and he, 
 
 Sisyphus the son of Aeolus, condemned 
 To everlasting labour, must we see. 
 
 Your land, your home, your well-beloved wife. 
 
 All must be left. Nor of those trees, shall one. 
 
 Which now you plant, follow their short-liv’d lord. 
 Save the detested cypresses alone. 
 
 A worthier heir the Caecuban shall drink. 
 
 Which now preserve a hundred keys at least ; 
 
 The pavement he shall stain with gen’rous wine. 
 Better than that which serves high pontiff’s feast. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 ODE XV 
 
 ^jj^RE long increasing palaces will leave 
 JI14 Few acres to the plough. We shall perceive 
 Ponds wider than the Lucrine lake 
 On ev’ry side. The barren plane will take 
 
 The place of elms. Of violets the banks, 
 
 Myrtles, and scented herbs in copious ranks. 
 
 Will scatter odours through the wood. 
 Where olives once were fruitful for their lord. 
 
 Then the dense laurel with its boughs will shade 
 From scorching beams. Not these the habits made 
 By Romulus and Cato rough. 
 
 And laws for our forefathers good enough. 
 
 With them the private revenues were small, 
 
 The public, large. No spacious entrance hall. 
 Measured by ten-foot rule, held fast 
 Their private homes ’gainst bitter northern blast. 
 
 Nor did the laws permit them to despise 
 Chance turf for roof: commanding towns to rise 
 And temples of the Gods enlarge. 
 
 With fresh-hewn marble at the public charge. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XVL 
 To Grosphus. 
 
 rest to Gods the sailor cries 
 A Who, caught on broad Aegaean, spies 
 lhack clouds before the moon arise, 
 
 ’Mid stars’ uncertain light. 
 
 For rest the warlike Thracians pray. 
 
 For rest the Mede with quiver gay, 
 
 Which, Grosphus, not with wealth will stay. 
 With gems, nor purple bright. 
 
 Nor gold, nor guards, can drive away 
 The wretched cares that ever stay. 
 
 And hover round the ceilings gay 
 Of lofty vaulted halls. 
 
 That man lives well on scanty hoard 
 Whose father’s plate decks frugal board ; 
 
 No fears from him sweet sleep can ward. 
 Nor sordid greed enthralls. 
 
BOOK 11. 
 
 Why are our transient aims so high ? 
 Why do we for new countries sigh ? 
 What exile from himself can fly, 
 Forgetful of his care ? 
 
 Vile Care the brazen galley scales, 
 
 The troops of horse she straight assails. 
 For swifter she than eastern gales, 
 
 Far swifter than the deer ! 
 
 The mind content with present state, 
 Cares not what is in store from fate. 
 With placid smile for more can wait ; 
 No bliss without alloy. 
 
 Swift death renown’d Achilles takes. 
 Old age Tithonus weary makes. 
 
 Fate, kind to me, thy spirit breaks 
 By snatching all thy joy. 
 
 Around thee low a hundred herds, 
 
 Thy steeds are swifter than the birds. 
 Whilst Afric’s richest purple girds 
 Thy form in costly guise. 
 
 The truthful Fates have granted me 
 A little farm upon the lea, 
 
 A vein of Attic minstrelsy. 
 
 And carpers to despise. 
 
 85 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XVIL 
 
 To Maecenas 
 
 HY dost thou kill me with thy cry ? 
 ’Tis friendly nor to Gods nor me 
 That thou, Maecenas, first should’st die. 
 
 My life’s great glory and my stay ! 
 
 Ah ! if on thee, part of my soul. 
 
 Swift blow should fall, why should I stay ? 
 Nor like belov’d, nor living whole. 
 
 Death to us both shall bring that day ! 
 
 I have not sworn perfidious oath. 
 Where thou precedest, I will go,— 
 Will go, prepared as comrades both. 
 The last sad fate to undergo. 
 
 Me, nor Chimaera’s fiery breath. 
 
 Nor hundred-handed Gyas seize 
 From thee, if he should rise from death ; 
 So Fates and mighty Justice please. 
 
 
 •'X-' V/ 
 
 
 
 86 
 
BOOK 11 
 
 If Libra, or if Scorpio dread, 
 
 Presided at my natal hour, 
 
 Or Capricorn his influence shed, 
 
 Who o’er th’ Hesperian wave hath power ; 
 
 In wond’rous mode our stars agree. 
 
 Of Jupiter the glorious aid 
 From impious Saturn rescued thee ; 
 
 Who the swift wings of F'ate delayed. 
 
 When in the circus the glad strain 
 The crowd on thee did thrice bestow. 
 
 A tree, nigh falling on my brain, 
 
 Had sent me hence, had not the blow 
 
 The hand of Faunus turned away. 
 Guardian of learned men ! Arise, 
 Victims and votive fane to pay ; 
 
 A humble lamb I’ll sacrifice ! 
 
 87 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XVIII. 
 
 ivory, nor gold, 
 
 Nor fretted ceiling glitters in my cot ; 
 
 Nor beams Hymettian hold 
 Columns of marble in far Libya cut ; 
 
 Nor, a usurping heir. 
 
 Have I seized Attains’ palatial roof; 
 
 Nor do attendants fair 
 Laconian purple spin for my behoof. 
 
 But faith, and lib’ral vein 
 Of intellect are mine. Tho’ I am poor, 
 
 To seek me rich are fain ;— 
 
 I importune the Gods for nothing more: 
 
 Nor my great friend I pray 
 For more. In Sabine farm content remain 
 Day swiftly, follows day. 
 
 And new moons ever hasten to their wane. 
 
BOOK ‘ II. 
 
 Tho’ now so near your doom, 
 
 Yet still you order marble to be hewn, 
 
 Forgetful of the tomb. 
 
 The raging sea pushed back, with mansions strewn 
 
 Is Baiae’s lengthened shore. 
 
 Not satisfied in nature’s bound to stay. 
 
 What! Greedy still for more, 
 
 Your neighbour’s landmarks do you tear away ? 
 
 , And your dependents’ bound 
 O’erleap ? Husband and wife away are thrust 
 From their paternal ground. 
 
 Clasping their Gods and infants to their breast. 
 
 No palace yet awaits 
 
 Its wealthy lord more sure than greedy death 
 For you, doomed by the fates ! 
 
 Where further do you go ? Impartial earth 
 
 The pauper covers o’er 
 
 And sons of kings. Nor back the watchful guard 
 Of Orcus hither bore 
 Prometheus sly, tho’ tempted by reward. 
 
 Proud Tantalus he there 
 
 Confines, and all his race. The poor man’s friend. 
 Invoked or not, he’ll hear 
 And grant him rest, his labours at an end. 
 
ODES OF FIORACE. 
 
 ODE XIX 
 To Bacchus 
 
 BACCHUS I saw, (posterity believe !), 
 
 3 Amid the distant rocks his sonnets teach 
 And Nymphs and Satyrs goat-footed receive, 
 With ears attentive, his melodious speech. 
 
 Evoe ! my bosom quakes with new-born fear. 
 Of Bacchus full, wildly dilates my heart ! 
 Evoe ! great Liber ! spare thy servant, spare. 
 With awful thyrsus armed thou dreaded art! 
 
 ’Tis lawful still for me to sound the strain 
 
 Of headstrong Bacchanals, and fount of wine. 
 Of rivers running milk, and tell again 
 Of honey oozing from the hollow pine. 
 
 And it is lawful of thine happy spouse 
 To sing, new honour added to the stars ; 
 
 And the dread fall of Pentheus’ royal house. 
 
 And of Lycurgus’ death, proud King of Thrace. 
 
 1^ ^ W S/S/N/V 
 
 Si/> 
 
 90 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 Thou dost the streams, thou the barbarian main 
 Control. Thou, moist with wine, on distant spot 
 The tresses of thy priestess dost restrain. 
 
 Unhurt, of vipers in a binding knot. 
 
 Thou, when the impious band of Titans vast 
 The kingdom of thy Father dared to storm 
 Thro’ lofty sky, huge Rhoetus backward cast, 
 
 With claws and horrid jaw in lion form. 
 
 Tho’ said to be more fitted for the dance, 
 
 For merriment or play, but not for war 
 Considered meet ; yet, when there came the chance. 
 Of peace and war thou wast the arbiter. 
 
 When Cerberus saw thee with golden horn 
 Adorned, with drooping tail he thee did greet. 
 And with his triple head, at thy return. 
 
 He tamely fawned upon thy legs and feet. 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XX. 
 
 To Maecenas 
 
 N common or on feeble wing, 
 
 A bard transformed, Ell not be borne 
 Thro’ liquid aether ; all too long 
 On earth I stay ; above their scorn 
 
 I’ll cities leave. I shall not die 
 Tho’ born of poor plebeian blood. 
 Whom thou, Maecenas, call’st “ Belov’d,” 
 I’ll ne’er be bound by Stygian flood. 
 
 Now, even now,, the scaly skin 
 
 Forms on my ankles ; change I now 
 To a white bird above ; on hands 
 And shoulders downy feathers grow. 
 
 Now a melodious bird, more swift 
 Than Icarus Daedalean soar, 
 Gaetulian Syrtes I shall see, 
 
 Wild Bosphorus and Polar shore. 
 
 
 92 
 
 ^ N-'Saf'W S 
 
 
 
 
BOOK tl. 
 
 
 93 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 ODE L 
 
 HATE and drive from me the crowd profane 
 Attend in silence ! I, the sacred bard 
 Of Muses, sing to maids and youths a strain 
 By them before unheard. 
 
 O’er their own peoples dreaded tyrants reign ; 
 
 O’er Kings themselves the empire is of God ; 
 He, famed for triumph o’er the giant train. 
 
 All tremble at his nod. 
 
 One man more widely trees in order trim 
 Than other plants. This one on birth relies 
 As suitor in the Field. That one with him 
 In fame and morals vies. 
 
 His num’rous clients will one man return. 
 
 Fate, by impartial law, allots or fame 
 Or infamy ; but the capacious urn 
 Produces ev’ry name. 
 
 94 
 
 i 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 Sicilian feasts cannot sweet relish bring 
 
 To that man o’er whose impious neck the blade 
 
 Unsheath’d is hung ; no song that birds can sing, 
 
 Nor harp’s melodious aid, 
 
 Can give him sleep. Sweet sleep the humble cot 
 Of husbandman does not disdain, nor strand 
 
 Which shade affords, nor Tempe’s lovely spot. 
 
 By gentle Zephyrs fann’d. 
 
 The stormy sea brings no solicitude 
 To him who is contented with enough ; 
 
 Arcturus setting, nor the rising Kid, 
 
 Bringing the tempests rough. 
 
 Nor do his vineyards buffeted by hail ; 
 
 Nor unproductive soil ; now at the rain 
 
 And now at scorching stars the tree may rail. 
 
 Of winters fierce complain. 
 
 The fishes feel the very sea affords 
 
 Less space from piers which in the deep are thrown; 
 
 Here many builders with their slaves, and lords. 
 
 Disdaining land, cast stone. 
 
 But Fear and Conscience by the self-same way 
 Ascend as does the lord. Black care will not 
 
 The brazen trireme leave ; and still will she 
 
 Behind the horseman sit. 
 
 95 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Since neither Phrygian stone can her retard, 
 Nor purple garb more lustrous than a star, 
 Nor the Falernian wine, nor costly nard 
 The Persian produce rare. 
 
 With envied columns and in newest style. 
 Why should I seek to build a loft)' dome ? 
 Why should I wish to change my Sabine vale 
 l"or riches cumbersome ? 
 
BOOK in. 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 W ET hardy youth together learn 
 yi / Sharp pinch of active war to bear 
 In patience. Let the horseman stern 
 Fierce Parthians harass with his spear. 
 
 In open air and daring raid 
 
 His life be spent. From hostile keep 
 Beholding him, may wife and maid 
 Adult, of warring tyrant weep. 
 
 Alas ! let not the royal mate, 
 
 Unskill’d in arms, provoke by touch 
 The lion fierce, whose bloody hate 
 
 Thro’ midst of slaughter swift will rush. 
 
 Oh ! sweet and glorious ’tis to die 
 
 For native land ! The coward. Death 
 Pursues ; nor does he spare the thigh. 
 
 Nor trembling back of peaceful youth. 
 
 Valour, disdaining craven flight, 
 
 With unstained honours shines, nor lays 
 Aside, nor takes the signs of might. 
 
 At airy will of populace. 
 
OI)?:S OF HORACl 
 
 I 
 
 Valour, to those heaven opening I 
 
 Who deathless are, by dang’rous path | 
 
 Pursues her way ; with flying wing i 
 
 Spurns vulgar crowds and humid earth. > 
 
 So also is there sure reward i 
 
 To faithful silence. I refuse 
 The man who rites of Ceres dread > < 
 
 Dares to divulge, my house to use, | 
 
 Or in same fragile boat to sail. 
 
 Neglected God may guiltless join > 
 
 With bad. Seldom doth Justice fail, j 
 
 Tho’ lame, to punish wicked men. | 
 
 ) 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE III. 
 
 W OR senseless rage of clam’ring crowd, 
 
 Nor threat’ning glance of tyrant proud, 
 Can shake the man whose constant mind 
 Is fixed of purpose ; nor South wind. 
 
 Fierce lord of restless Hadria’s strand 
 Of thund’ring Jove, nor mighty hand. 
 Should earth itself in fragments fall. 
 The wreck would strike a fearless soul. 
 
 Pollux and wand’ring Hercules 
 Endowed with this attribute seize 
 The starry keep ; with rosy lips 
 With them Augustus nectar sips. 
 
 By this deserving, Bacchus sire, 
 
 Thou did st control the tigers dire. 
 Dragging with tameless neck thy yoke. 
 From Acheron Quirinus broke 
 
 99 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 On steeds of Mars, when pleasing words 
 Spake Juno to consulting Gods :— 
 
 “ Troy ! Troy ! a fatal judge and lewd 
 “ And foreign woman thee have strewed 
 
 “ In dust. To Pallas chaste and me 
 “ Thy race and leader false shall be 
 “ Condemned, since the reward agreed 
 “ Laomedon to Gods denied. 
 
 “ For neither did the guest profane 
 “ Of the Laconian harlot shine ; 
 
 “ Nor perjured house of Priam stayed 
 “ The warlike Greeks by Hector’s aid. 
 
 “ Lengthened by our sad discord, wars 
 “ Are ended now. Now I to Mars 
 “ My cruel rage will back return ; 
 
 “ And hated grandson who was born 
 
 “ Of Trojan priestess. I’ll permit 
 “ That he should enter shining seat, 
 
 “ And nectar quaff, and added be 
 “To peaceful ranks of deity. 
 
 “ So long as mighty seas remain 
 “ ’Twixt Rome and Ilion, let them reign, 
 
 “ The exiles blest in other clime. 
 
 “ Whilst cattle over Priam’s tomb. 
 
 
 
 
 
 lOO 
 
BOOK Iti. 
 
 “ And that of Paris sport, and while 
 “ Wild beasts unchased their young conceal ; 
 
 Still may the glittering Capitol 
 “ Remain, and haughty Romans rule 
 
 O’er conquered Medes. Her dreaded name 
 “ May Rome extend to furthest clime, 
 
 “ Where Europe middle sea divides 
 “ PAom Afric’; and where swoll’n tides 
 
 “ Of Nilus roll. The gold unseen 
 “ ’Tis braver to despise, and deem 
 “ It better hid in earth, than bring 
 “ It for man’s use, each sacred thing 
 
 “ With right hand snatching. Whate’er end 
 “ Of earth withstands, may she contend 
 “ In arms, impelled that land to see 
 “ Where fires and stormy rains may be. 
 
 “ But by this right I tell their fate 
 “ To warlike Romans ; not too great, 
 
 “ Nor too confiding, they should joy 
 “ To build the roofs of hated Troy. 
 
 The fortunes of that Troy new-born 
 “ Should, under auspices forlorn, 
 
 “ Repeated be. I, first in strife, 
 
 “ Of Jove the sister and the wife. 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 “ If thrice should rise a brazen wall, 
 
 “ Phoebus its founder, thrice should fall 
 “ By Greeks o’erthrown. P'or husband thrice 
 “ And children captive woman sighs.”— 
 
 This ill befits the merry lyre ! 
 
 Oh wilful Muse ! where dost aspire ? 
 
 Cease language of the Gods to use. 
 
 And great things dwarf by feeble verse ! 
 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 ] 
 
 
 102 
 

 BOOK m. 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 1^0 Calliope. 
 
 4j\UEEN CALLIOPE, from heaven descend, 
 And haste a long-drawn strain to sing 
 To lute, with thy clear voice to blend, 
 
 Or, an thou wilt, with Phoebus’ string. 
 
 Hear ye ? Or does a rapture sweet 
 Deceive ? I seem to hear and stray 
 Thro’ sacred groves, where streamlets fleet 
 And gentle breezes ever play ! 
 
 Once, when a boy, fatigued with sport 
 Asleep, with fresh leaves ring-doves wise 
 To hide me on high Vultur sought. 
 
 Where nurse Apulia’s threshold lies. 
 
 Wondrous it seemed to all who dwell 
 In Acherontia’s lofty nest. 
 
 In Bantia’s woods, and in the vale 
 Of low Ferentum richly blest ; 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 That I could sleep with body safe 
 . From bears and from the vipers dread. 
 Dear to the Gods, an infant brave, 
 
 By sacred bays and myrtle hid. 
 
 Yours, oh Camenae, I am yours. 
 
 Or raised to Sabine mountain top. 
 
 Or pleased where cool Praencste soars. 
 With Baiae’s waves, or Tibur’s slope. 
 
 PTiend to your fountains and your dance. 
 Nor routed host at Philippi, 
 
 Nor tree accurst, nor sad mischance 
 Of Palinurus, injured me. 
 
 If ye be with me, cheerfully 
 
 Sailing', mad Bosphorus Pll explore, 
 And as a traveller I’ll see 
 
 The burning sands of Syria’s shore. 
 
 Britons, to strangers fierce. I’ll view ; 
 
 And Concani who love the blood 
 Of hoi'se ; quiver’d Geloni too 
 
 Unhurt I’ll see, and Scythian flood. 
 
 Ye cherished in Pierian cave 
 
 Great Caesar, seeking war to end, 
 When weai'y cohorts late he gave 
 
 Command their own towns to defend. 
 

 ^ y^ yNy> ys y<. 
 
 BOOK Ill. 
 
 Ye, sacred ones, give counsel mild 
 And joy to give it. Well we know 
 
 How he who hurled down Titans wild, 
 
 A monstrous crew, with crashing blow ; 
 
 How he still earth and stormy sea, 
 
 And cities, and the kingdoms grim. 
 
 Alone rules with impartial sway ; 
 
 How Gods and mortals bend to him. 
 
 Fierce youth, confiding in their might, 
 
 And brothers who to heap up sought 
 
 Pelion on dark Olympus’ height, 
 
 To Jove himself great terror brought. 
 
 What could Mimas, or Typhoeus, 
 
 Or what Forphyrion’s threat’ning height. 
 
 What Rhoetus, or Enceladus, 
 
 With trees uprooted fierce to fight. 
 
 Rushing ’gainst Pallas’ sounding shield. 
 Avail ? Here eager Vulcan stood ; 
 
 Wife Juno there ! He who doth wield 
 The bow upon his shoulder broad, 
 
 Phoebus, who in Castalian dew 
 
 Laves his loose locks, who Lycia’s wood 
 
 Holds, and his natal forest too, 
 
 Of Patara and Delos God. 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Force, without wisdom, by its weight 
 
 Must fall. The Gods, who raise on high 
 Well governed Force, the same Force hate, 
 Intent on all impiety. 
 
 Let hundred-handed Gyas be 
 
 The witness of my truth, and base 
 Orion, Dian’s chastity 
 
 Who tempts, her virgin arrow slays. 
 
 The earth, on her own monsters spread, 
 Grieves and laments her offspring sent 
 By thunderbolt to Orcus dread ; 
 
 Nor by swift fire is Etna burnt; 
 
 Nor lustful Tityus’ liver quits 
 
 The bird as punishment assigned 
 For his foul sin ; three hundred knots 
 Pirithous the amorous bind. 
 
BOOK HI. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 '^ITE aye believe that in the courts of heaven 
 y'f Reigns thund’ring Jove. Now is Augustus given, 
 A present God, who to his rule doth add 
 The distant Briton and the Persian dread. 
 
 Have Crassus’ soldiers lived with barb’rous mates 
 As husbands base? Oh Senate ! And oh P'ates 
 Averse ! Have Marsian and Apulian aged, 
 
 Whilst for unfriendly fathers war they waged 
 
 Under the Median King, forgetful grown 
 Of sacred shields, and name, and manly gown, 
 
 And of eternal Vesta, this our home 
 PTom danger free and our dear city Rome ? 
 
 This dreaded Regulus’ far-seeing mind, 
 
 His country scorning by base terms to bind ; 
 
 Who saw that such example sure would be 
 To bring destruction on posterity, 
 
 If captive youth should not have slaughtered been 
 Unpitied. Thus did he speak :—“ I have seen 
 “ Our captured standards Punic shrines display, 
 
 “ And from our soldiers weapons snatch’d away 
 

 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 “ Without resistance. I have seen the hands 
 “ Of citizens behind free backs in bands ; 
 
 “ And gates unclosed, and fields retilled, which were 
 “ Once quite depopulated by our war. 
 
 “ Think ye the soldier ransomed by your dross 
 “ Returns more brave? To shame ye but add loss ! 
 
 “ Think ye the wool which once hath borne the stain 
 “ Of dye, its pristine colour can regain ? 
 
 “ Nor does true valour, conquered by the sword, 
 
 “ By means inferior care to be restored. 
 
 “ If timid hart, which hath escaped by flight 
 “ From thick-wrought meshes, will e’er turn to fight, 
 
 “ Then he’ll be brave who trusts perfidious foe, 
 
 “ And in another war will overthrow 
 “ The Punic race, who thongs around his arms 
 “ Bound fast hath tamely felt,—whom death alarms ! 
 
 “ The man who thus by any means will care 
 “ His life to save, but mingles peace with war ! 
 
 “ Oh shame ! Oh mighty Carthage, finding fame 
 “ In ruined Italy’s eternal shame ! ” 
 
 ’Tis said this man denied himself the bliss 
 Of wife’s chaste kiss and little ones’ caress. 
 
 As dead to civic rights ; and sternly turned 
 His manly countenance upon the ground 
 

 HOOK III. 
 
 Till he, their counsellor, had power to bind, 
 
 By his advice, the Senate’s wav’ring mind, 
 
 His own unchang’d. Then from his friends distressed. 
 Illustrious Exile ! to his doom he pressed. 
 
 And tho’ he knew what the barbarian grim 
 Of horrid torture had prepared for him, 
 
 Yet still he thrust opposing friends away, 
 And crowds that strove departure to delay ; 
 
 As tho’, the tedious work of clients done, 
 Their suit determined, he had merely gone 
 To take his leisure in Venafrian field. 
 
 Or fair Tarentum, once by Spartans held. 
 
 
 
 109 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 To THE Romans. 
 
 5OMAN ! tho’ guiltless, thou must expiate 
 Illy fathers’ crimes, until thou shalt restore 
 
 The temples, and the falling shrines of Gods, 
 
 And statues with vile smoke all blackened o’er. 
 
 Thou rulest by obedience to the Gods, 
 
 To this each undertaking sure apply 
 
 And every end. Neglected Gods have given 
 Misfortunes great to mourning Italy. 
 
 Twice have Monaeses and the hardy bands 
 Of Pacorus our inauspicious charge 
 
 Repelled, and proudly added Roman spoils. 
 
 Their former scanty honours to enlarge. 
 
 Dacian and African have nigh destroyed 
 Our city, in seditious brawls engaged ; 
 
 One pow’rful with his fleet, with missile dart 
 The other better, ’gainst us war hath waged. 
 
 T lO 
 
vs 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Fruitful in crime, the age did first corrupt 
 
 The marriage bond, the race, and e’en the home 
 From this bad source derived, defeat has flowed 
 O’er all the country and the race of Rome. 
 
 The grown-up maiden to be taught delights 
 Ionic dances, and in crafty arts 
 Is well instructed ; and forbidden loves 
 From tender infancy she meditates. 
 
 Soon younger lovers she will try to find. 
 
 Her husband in his cups, nor doth she care 
 On whom forbidden favours she bestows 
 
 With careless ease, when the lights disappear. 
 
 But when she’s summoned openly she comes. 
 Too oft indeed before her husband’s face. 
 
 If agent vile, or Spanish captain call. 
 
 The wealthy purchaser of her disgrace ! 
 
 A youth not sprung from parents such as these 
 Dyed mighty ocean with the Punic blood, 
 
 And Pyrrhus slaughtered, and Antiochus 
 The Great, and hated Hannibal withstood. 
 
 But manly offspring of a rustic race 
 
 Of warriors, taught with Sabine spades the land 
 To dig, and^aught to cut and carry wood 
 At an unyielding mother’s stern command ; 
 
 
 
 Ill 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Nor then to cease, till shadows of the hills 
 By setting sun were lengthened, and again 
 With his departing car came time of rest, 
 
 And weary oxen from the yokes were ta’en. 
 
 Oh ! what does not this age corrupt impair ? 
 
 Our fathers’ age, than their own fathers’ worse. 
 Hath us begot, a race more wicked still. 
 
 Yet soon a viler offspring to produce ! 
 
 11 2 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 To Asterie. 
 
 J STERIE, why for Gyges dost thou mourn, 
 L That youth of constant faith, whom fair 
 West winds to thee will early spring return, 
 Made happy with Bithynian ware ? 
 
 He, driven to Oricum by Southern gales 
 Under the Goat’s tempestuous star, 
 
 Deprived of sleep, thro’ frosty nights bewails 
 Thine absence with the constant tear. 
 
 Altho’ his anxious hostess’ agent sly 
 Should by a thousand modes deceive. 
 Pretending that for him doth Chloe sigh. 
 
 With hotter fires than thine doth grieve. 
 
 He tells him how once a woman scheming 
 Incited Proetus death to haste. 
 
 Too credulous, her false charge believing. 
 
 To young Bellerophon the chaste. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 He tells how Peleus too once nearly fell 
 To Tartarus when, chaste, he fled 
 
 Magnessian Hippolyte ; and, base, will tell 
 Tales which to sinfulness would lead. 
 
 In vain ! For he, than the Icarian cliffs 
 More deaf, untouched the words will hear. 
 
 But lest Enipeus, who too near thee lives. 
 Should please thee more than right, beware! 
 
 Altho’ no other, skilful like to him. 
 
 In Campus Martius may be seen 
 
 To guide a steed ; nor is there one can swim 
 So swiftly down the Tuscan stream. 
 
 To ope thine house at night’s approach refrain. 
 Nor do thou on the street look down 
 
 At pipe’s shrill sound, but obdurate remain, 
 Altho’ he oft deplores thy frown. 
 
BOOK HI. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 
 T () Maecenas. 
 
 O H thou, who language of each tongue dost know, 
 Thou art surprised what I, unmarried, do 
 In March’s Kalends. What do flowers show. 
 
 And censer incense bearing, 
 
 \ 
 
 And coal on living sod ? I did devote 
 Rich feasts to Bacchus and a snow-white goat; 
 
 I, on whose head once death was nearly brought 
 
 By tree upon me falling. 
 
 This day, held sacred each returning year, 
 
 The pitch-held cork shall take from out the jar 
 Which I, when Tullus consul, did prepare. 
 
 In smoke hung up for rip’ning. 
 
 Maecenas, to the safety of thy friend, 
 
 A hundred cups imbibe ; by bright lamps spend 
 The night till morning breaks. Let clamour end, 
 
 Be absent angry raging. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Thy civil cares for Rome now put away, 
 
 The bands of Dacian Cotiso we slay, 
 
 In his own land the hated Mede will stay. 
 
 Fierce civil war distracting. 
 
 Our ancient foes of Spain, the Cantabri, 
 
 Are now subdued, by recent victory 
 Enchain’d. The Scythians, unbent bows put by. 
 To yield their lands are thinking. 
 
 Careless of state in private moments, spare 
 For peoples’ sufferings too much to care. 
 
 The gifts of this bright day now joyous wear, 
 Affairs of statecraft leaving. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ y*. y 
 
 
 116 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE IX. 
 
 An Ode" in Responses. 
 
 Horace .—^O long as I was dear to thee, 
 
 Nor any youth preferred to me 
 Round thy white neck his arms could fling, 
 I lived more blest than Persian king! 
 
 Lydia .—Whilst no one else did thee inflame. 
 
 Nor, after Chloe, Lydia came, 
 
 Lydia of high account I found. 
 
 Than Roman Ilia more renowned ! 
 
 Horace .—Now Thracian Chloe o’er me reigns, 
 
 Sweet measures taught, and skilled in strains. 
 For whom to die I’m not afraid. 
 
 If Fates spare her, surviving maid ! 
 
 Lydia .—Me Thurian Ornytus’ the son, 
 
 Calais, mutual flame doth burn. 
 
 For whom twice I could bear to die. 
 
 If Fates spare him, surviving boy ! 
 
 117 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Hoface .—What ! If our former love revives 
 In brazen yoke our sundered lives ? 
 
 If gold-haired Chloe charms no more, 
 
 To jilted Lydia opes the door? 
 
 Lydia. —Tho’ he more beauteous than a star, 
 
 Thou light as cork, and angrier far 
 
 Than stormy Hadria, gladly I 
 
 With thee would live, with thee would die 
 
 
 ii8 
 
BOOK Hi. 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 To L Y c E. 
 
 / 
 
 ^ YCE, tho’ wedded to a barb’rous mate 
 
 JL/ And drinking distant Don, thou would’st my fate 
 
 Deplore, stretch’d at thy cruel door to weep. 
 
 Exposed to North winds which there ever sweep. 
 
 Dost thou not hear the creaking of thy door. 
 
 And how the wood around thy house doth roar ? 
 
 Dost thou not mark how wintry sky doth throw 
 Its icy brightness o’er the fallen snow ? 
 
 Hateful to love, now cease that pride to feel! 
 
 Think how the rope may slip upon the wheel 
 And backward run. Thy Tyrrhene sire not thee 
 Begot to love deaf as Penelope. 
 
 Tho’ neither gifts, nor prayers, nor pallid hue 
 Of pining lovers, nor thy spouse untrue 
 With chatt’ring wanton, can effective prove. 
 
 Oh cruel one ! to bend thy heart to love. 
 
 Yet spare thy suppliants, tho’ more hard than oak 
 And not more gentle than the Moorish snake ! 
 
 This side of mine will not aye bear the pains 
 Of thy hard threshold and the heav’nly rains. 
 
1 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XL 
 
 To Mercury. 
 
 MERCURY ! thou teaching him his art, 
 Amphion docile could by song impart 
 Motion to rocks ; thro’ thee my seven-string’d lyre 
 Sweet pleasure can inspire : 
 
 Nor tuneful once, nor pleasing, now its strains 
 At rich men’s tables and in sacred fanes 
 Are welcome. Teach me songs which Lyde fair 
 Now obdurate, will hear. 
 
 Who, frisking like a three-years’ filly, plays 
 In the wide fields, nor to be touched she stays. 
 Without experience of sweet marriage vows. 
 Unripe for loving spouse. 
 
 Thou tigers and attendant woods can’st lead 
 And rapid streams delay. Cerberus, guard 
 Immense of the infernal halls, hath bent 
 
 To thy sweet blandishment ; 
 
 120 
 
 

 BOOK III. 
 
 Tho’ furiously a hundred serpents twine 
 About his guarded heads, and tho’ combine 
 A horrid stench about his triple jaws, 
 
 And bloody matter flows. 
 
 Nay, e’en Ixion and e’en Tityus smile, 
 
 Altho’ with rueful face. The tub awhile 
 
 Stands dry, whilst Danaus’ daughters thou dost ease 
 
 With song aye sure to please. 
 
 The virgins’ crime and well-known punishment 
 Let Lyde hear ; and of the pitcher spent 
 Of water ever running through, and state 
 
 The everlasting fate 
 
 Which e’en their wickedness awaits in death. 
 Impious ! (for when was greater breach of faith ?) 
 Impious ! They seized the cruel sword with joy. 
 
 Their husbands to destroy. 
 
 One of the many, splendidly untrue 
 To her false parent, then herself did show 
 Worthy the nuptial torch, a virgin sage. 
 
 Renowned in ev’ry age : 
 
 Who to her youthful husband cried :—“ Arise ! 
 
 “ Arise ! lest sleep eternal close thine eyes, 
 
 “ Given whence thou fearest not ! Escape my sire 
 
 “ And wicked sisters’ ire ; 
 
 I2I 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 “ Who, lion-like, the calves in pieces tear 
 “ On which, alas ! they fall. I, gentler far 
 “ Than they, will from the deadly blow refrain. 
 
 “ Nor in my couch detain. 
 
 “ Let me my father’s cruel fetters wear, 
 
 “ Because in mercy my poor spouse I spare, 
 
 “ To far Numidian plains across the sea 
 
 In ship let him send me. 
 
 “ Go, where thy feet and friendly breezes bear, 
 Whilst night and love protect ; swift flight prepare 
 “ With prosp’rous omen ; but carve on my tomb 
 
 “ The sad tale of my doom.” 
 
 I 22 
 

 wm 
 
 
 BOOK • III. 
 
 ODE XII. 
 
 / 
 
 To Neobule 
 
 FNHAPPY are the maids who neither can to love 
 k- give rein, 
 
 Nor drown sad cares with wine, but still in constant 
 fear remain 
 
 Of uncle’s tongue severe. 
 
 Oh Neobule, the winged boy of Love shall take from 
 thee 
 
 Distaff, and mesh, and study of hard Greek ; and so 
 will he, 
 
 Hebrus of Lipara ; 
 
 Beauteous, when his oiled shoulders he hath laved in 
 Tiber’s stream, 
 
 A horseman better than Bellerophon ; in fight 
 supreme ; 
 
 Nor slow of foot to race. 
 
 Skilful the same at frightened herd of flying stags the 
 spear 
 
 To hurl in open plain ; and swift the wild boar lurking 
 there 
 
 From thicket dense to chase. 
 
 123 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XIII. 
 
 To THE BaNDUSIAN SPRING. 
 
 ANDUSIAN FONT, as crystal bright, 
 
 m3 Of wine and flowers deserving quite. 
 To thee to-morrow shall be borne 
 A kid, whose newly-sprouted horn 
 
 In love ne’er destined to display. 
 
 Nor join in battle’s stern array ; 
 
 The offspring of the sportive team 
 With crimson gore shall dye thy stream. 
 
 The blazing Dog-Star’s sultry hour 
 Ne’er o’er thine icy pool shall lour, 
 
 But wearied bulls and wand’ring sheep 
 Shall in thy grateful coolness steep. 
 
 Oh ! Fountain of the noblest name, 
 
 My song shall spread thy worthy fame ; 
 From hollow rocks, the oak below. 
 
 Thy babbling waters swiftly flow. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 On the Return of Augustus from Spain. 
 
 G AESAR, oh Romans ! who, ye lately thought, 
 Like Hercules, the death-won laurel sought. 
 Now to his household Gods returns once more, 
 
 Victor from Spanish shore. 
 
 Now let the Wife come forth who loves her spouse 
 And pay to just divinities her vows ; 
 
 Now let the Sister of our chief renowned 
 
 Come forth, her forehead bound 
 
 With suppliant fillet, and so mothers dear 
 Of daughters, and of sons late saved in war. 
 
 By you, oh youths and maids too young to wed. 
 
 Let no ill words be said. 
 
 This, which in truth is a well-omened day 
 To me, all my black care shall take away. 
 
 No force I fear, nor death by ruthless hand. 
 
 Whilst Caesar rules the land. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Perfumes, oh slave, and wreaths haste to prepare, 
 And wine coeval with the Marsian war. 
 
 If any vessel roving Spartacus 
 
 Hath left indeed to us. 
 
 Tell bright Neaera that she lose no time 
 Her shining tresses in a knot to twine ; 
 
 But if the crusty porter cause delay. 
 
 Then quickly come away. 
 
 White hairs bring calm to minds which once were 
 To pick a quarrel, or for heady strife ; 
 
 In Plancus’ consulship, when hot in youth. 
 
 I’d not bear this, forsooth ! 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE XV. 
 
 To Chloris. 
 
 IFE of poor Ibycus, whose death is nigh, 
 Now cease thy wickedness and actions sly, 
 Amid young girls now cease to tread, 
 Amid bright stars a cloud to spread. 
 
 If aught fair Pholoe enough becomes. 
 
 It does not follow that it thee beseems ; 
 
 Oh Chloris ! with a better right 
 Thy daughter may perchance invite 
 
 Herself to young men’s homes. Like Thyiad rash 
 To madness stirr’d by beaten cymbals’ clash. 
 
 The love of Nothus drives her out. 
 Like sportive kid to frisk about. 
 
 Wools shorn near famed Luceria thee become, 
 
 A woman old ; not lutes, nor blushing bloom 
 
 Of roses bright, nor casks of wine. 
 Which thou to very dregs dost drain. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XVI. 
 
 To Maecenas. 
 
 S TOUT doors of oak and brazen tower 
 And wakeful watch-dogs’ cruel ward, 
 From midnight lovers had had power 
 Imprison’d Danae to guard ; 
 
 Did Jove and Love not scorn display 
 At pale Acrisius’ trembling care 
 Of the hid virgin ; for the way, 
 
 A God the bribe, was safe and clear. 
 
 Gold loves thro’ midst of guards to go. 
 Thro’ rocks to break, more powerful 
 Than thunderbolt. Destruction’s blow 
 The Argive augur’s house befel 
 
 Thro’ lust of gold. With bribes wide flings 
 The “ Man of Macedon ” of towns 
 The gates, and ruins rival kings. 
 
 Bribes soften rough sea-captains’ frowns. 
 
 Maecenas, thou most glorious knight. 
 Increasing wealth brings greater care 
 And greed for more. I fear, with right, 
 A too conspicuous head to rear. 
 
 128 
 
 ^ 
 
 
> 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 The more each one himself denies, 
 
 The more to him the Gods will give. 
 
 Empty, I seek the camps of those 
 
 Who covet naught, and rich men leave, 
 
 A glad deserter ; nobler lord 
 
 Of fortune base than if ’twere said 
 
 That all Apulian ploughs I stored, 
 
 Poor amid riches, in my shed. 
 
 Of water pure a stream, and wood 
 Of acres few, a happier lot 
 
 Is mine, if sure my crops be good, 
 
 Than fertile Afric’s proud despot. 
 
 Tho’ neither doth Calabrian bee 
 Bring honey, nor in P'ormian vat 
 
 Ripens the gen’rous wine for me. 
 
 Nor Gallic fields grow fleeces fat. 
 
 Yet biting want I do not feel. 
 
 Nor, if I wished, would’st thou deny 
 
 To give me more. Mine income small 
 My lessened needs will well supply. 
 
 As tho’ I joined Alyattes’ realm 
 
 To Thracian plains. To those whose prayers 
 
 Ask much, is wanting much. With him 
 ’Tis well, enough whom God’s hand spares. 
 
 I 
 
 129 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XVII. 
 
 On a e l I u s Lamia, 
 
 ELIUS, high-born from Lamus old, 
 (Since former Lamias, we are told. 
 Both hence were named, and all the race 
 Of children origin can trace 
 
 From him their sire whom records call, 
 Who held, as king, the Formian wall ; 
 And Liris gently flowing o’er 
 The sands of fair Marica’s shore. 
 
 Lord of a wide domain), a blast 
 Sent down to-morrow from the East, 
 
 With leaves the grove shall strew, with weeds 
 Marine the strand ; unless misleads. 
 
 Augur of rain, the ancient crow. 
 
 Pile up dry wood while you may so ; 
 
 With wine you shall refresh your breast 
 And two-months’ pig ;—your slaves shall rest. 
 
HOOK nr. 
 
 ODE XVIIL 
 To F A U N u s. 
 
 J ^AUNUS, who lov’st the Nymphs that 
 . Pass gently o’er my boundary 
 And sunny fields ; propitious be 
 To my flocks’ little progeny. 
 
 If ev’ry year a tender kid 
 Is slain, nor store of wine forbid 
 The cup, love’s friend. With incense rare 
 The ancient altar fills the air. 
 
 The flocks rejoice in grassy plain. 
 
 When thee December’s Nones return ; 
 
 The happy village rests from toil. 
 
 And in the mead the unyoked bull. 
 
 ’Mid fearless lambs the wolf is seen. 
 
 The forest scatters wild leaves green. 
 
 The delver joys loath’d earth to beat, 
 
 In triple dance with nimble feet. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XIX. 
 
 To Telephus. 
 
 OW far from Inachus 
 Doth Codrus come, who feared not for his land to die, 
 
 And race of Aeacus 
 
 Thou dost narrate, and battles fought round sacred Troy. 
 
 But at what price to buy 
 
 A cask of Chian, or who’ll warm the bath with flame. 
 
 Who’ll house-room give, or why 
 I can’t drive out Pelignian colds, thou dost not name. 
 
 Quickly, my boy, a glass 
 Drink to the rising moon ; another to midnight; 
 
 One to Muraena pass. 
 
 The augur. In the bowls three or nine cups unite. 
 
 The bard inspired who would 
 Odd-numbered Muses love, asks for cups three times three ; 
 
 Each Grace, with sisters nude 
 Conjoined, e’en more than three to quaff prohibits me. 
 
HOOK ill. 
 
 Fearful of hot dispute. 
 
 I love to rave. Why cease of Berecyntian pipe 
 
 The blasts ? Why doth the flute 
 In silence hang beside the high-suspended harp ? 
 
 A niggard hand I hate ! 
 
 Come, scatter roses ! Let the envious Lycus hear 
 
 Our noise inebriate, 
 
 And one for Lycus old unfit, our neighbour fair. 
 
 Rhode, for marriage fit. 
 
 Loves thee, oh Telephus, whose bushy tresses shine 
 
 Fair as the star of night. 
 
 Gently inflames me now the love of Glycera mine. 
 
 133 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XX. 
 
 To P Y R R HUS. 
 
 PYRRHUS ! with what risk dost thou not see 
 ^ Thou dost from lioness Gaetulian tear 
 Her cubs ; the battle hard thou soon shalt flee, 
 
 A frightened ravisher ; 
 
 When she thro’ youths’ opposing bands will go, 
 Nearchus beautiful to find again ; 
 
 A mighty fight, whether or she or thou 
 Secure the greater gain. 
 
 Meantime, whilst thou dost draw swift arrows out, 
 And she her fearsome teeth doth whet, ’tis said 
 The arbiter of fight under bare foot. 
 
 Hath trampled the reward ; 
 
 And hath refreshed, with gentle breezes’ play 
 
 His shoulders, with sweet-scented locks o’erspread. 
 Such one was Nircus, or he snatch’d away 
 From Ida’s wat’ry bed. 
 
i 
 
 BOOK Ill. 
 
 ODE XXL 
 
 To AN Amphora. 
 
 r 
 
 H jar belov’d ! thou, born with me 
 When Manlius ruled the state, 
 Art cause of grief, or revelry. 
 
 Calm sleep, mad love, or hate. 
 
 By whatsoever name thou dost 
 The Massic choice preserve. 
 
 For day auspicious meet, thou must 
 Rich wine Corvinus give. 
 
 Not he, tho’ of Socratic mood. 
 
 Will, churlish, thee refuse ; 
 
 ’Tis said e’en ancient Cato would 
 Virtue with wine infuse. 
 
 Gently thou dost all grief remove 
 From each o’erburdened mind ; 
 
 Thou dost the cares of wise men soothe. 
 Their fears with merry wine. 
 
 135 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 To anxious minds back thou dost bring 
 Hope, strength, and lengthened hours 
 With thee man fears nor wrath of king. 
 Nor military powers. 
 
 Oh ! Bacchus, thee and Venus gay 
 Prolong the lamps of night. 
 
 And ungirt Graces, till the day 
 The stars shall put to flight. 
 
HOOK ill. 
 
 ODE XXII. 
 To Diana. 
 
 ^CTIRGIN ! of hills and forests guardian, 
 
 F Oh tri-formed Goddess ! who, when thrice iin 
 Dost hear young matrons in maternal pain, 
 
 And from them death dost ward ! 
 
 The pine my villa which o’ershades be thine, 
 On which, each year completed, I bestow 
 Most joyfully the offered blood of swine. 
 
 Planning his side-long blow. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXIIL 
 
 / 
 
 To Phidyle. 
 
 |H rustic Phidyle ! if thou dost raise 
 
 Thy lifted hands to heav’n at first moon-shine, 
 
 With incense to the Lares givest praise, 
 
 With this year’s fruit and blood of greedy swine ; 
 
 The fruitful vine nor South-west wind shall harm 
 With noxious blast, nor corn the sterile blight ; 
 
 Nor shall bad seasons thy sweet flocks alarm. 
 
 When comes fruit-bearing autumn in its flight. 
 
 P^or the devoted victim which now feeds 
 On snowy Algidus ’mid holm and oak. 
 
 Or waxes fat in the Albanian meads. 
 
 Shall stain with rushing life-blood from its neck 
 
 The axes of the priests. It fits not thee 
 
 With mighty slaughter of the two-years’ sheep. 
 
 The little Gods t’ appease with rosemary, 
 
 And fragile myrtle on their brows to heap. 
 
 If guiltless hand be on the altar laid, 
 
 A costly offering will not mollify 
 More sweetly than the votive barley’s aid 
 Or glistening salt, Penates turned away. 
 

 
 
 ✓V ^ 
 
 BOOK 111. 
 
 ODE XXIV. 
 
 Against the Covetous. 
 
 ORE wealthy than Arabia’s treasures vast 
 Or India’s riches, now to thee 
 It is permitted palaces to cast 
 In Tyrrhene and Apulian sea. 
 
 Yet if her adamantine hooks grim Fate 
 To loftiest roofs shall fix, from dread 
 Thy trembling soul thou shalt not extricate, 
 
 Nor from the snares of Death thine head. 
 
 The country-roving Scythians better learn 
 Whose carts, as is their custom, draw 
 Their vagrant houses ; and the Getae stern, 
 
 For whom unmeasured acres grow 
 
 Free fruits and corn : nor longer in one spot 
 Than one year will they plough, then he 
 Who hath performed his task, by equal lot. 
 
 Next year a substitute shall see. 
 
 There guileless wife, lost their own mother dear. 
 Her step-sons gently rules, nor o’er 
 Her spouse doth dowered consort domineer. 
 
 Nor trust a gay adulterer. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Their dowry is their parents’ virtue great 
 And, other love rejecting, faith 
 
 True to the marriage bond. Such sin they hate, 
 And its meet punishment is death. 
 
 Does any wish down these foul crimes to put 
 And civic rage ? If he desire 
 “ Father of Cities ” on his statues cut. 
 
 Wild lust to check let him aspire. 
 
 May he be honoured by posterity 
 Since we, (alas ! our wickedness !) 
 
 Virtue, whilst living, hate ; yet, fickle, pray 
 For it when taken from our eyes. 
 
 Of what avail are wailings sorrowful. 
 
 If sin is not by stripes down hurled ? 
 
 Morals without, what do vain laws avail ? 
 
 Since nor that quarter of the world 
 
 Parched by the fervid heats, nor distant shore 
 Which borders Boreas, nor snow 
 
 Hard frozen to the ground, hath power to scare 
 The venturous merchant. Sailors know 
 
 How stormy seas to rule. But poverty, 
 
 That great reproach, compels us all 
 
 To do or suffer aught, and from the way 
 Of lofty Virtue makes us fall. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 Either our gems, and stones, and useless gold. 
 Of all our greatest evils cause. 
 
 To the Capitol let us send, where called 
 By an approving crowd’s applause ; 
 
 Or to the nearest sea, if we bewail 
 Our sin in truth. Of avarice 
 The elements depraved we must expel ; 
 
 And souls sprung from too soft a race 
 
 By nobler studies must be fortified. 
 
 The high-born youth, from lack of skill. 
 
 Is not e’en able on a horse to ride 
 And fears to hunt. Yet, if you will. 
 
 More skilled is he with Grecian hoop to play. 
 Or with the dice by laws repressed ; 
 
 Whilst father’s faithless perjuries betray 
 His friend, his consort, and his guest. 
 
 For worthless heir he money piles with speed : 
 
 Forsooth, wealth gotten wickedly 
 Still grows ! Something, I know not what, we 
 Mere riches cannot satisfy ! 
 
OD?:S OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXV. 
 
 To Bacchus. 
 
 I ilTHITHER, oh Bacchus ! dost thou hurry me 
 
 Inspired by thee ? Into what cave or wood 
 
 Am I now swiftly borne in fancy free ? 
 
 Now in wliat grot to sing shall I be heard 
 
 Great Caesar’s endless fame, him to instal 
 Amid the stars and in the courts of Jove ? 
 
 Now will I sing the new, the wonderful. 
 
 Unsung before ! As from the cliffs above, 
 
 The sleepless Bacchanal with awe doth see 
 
 Hebrus, and Rhodope, and Thrace snow-white. 
 Trodden by savage foot, just so to me 
 
 The banks and empty grove afford delight. 
 
 To feel their charms as wandering I go ! 
 
 Oh thou, who o’er the Naiads dost bear sway 
 And Bacchanals, they who can overthrow 
 
 Tall ash-trees with their hands ! Naught will I say 
 
 Of what is little, or in humble mode. 
 
 Nor aught of mortal things. Sweet risk be mine, 
 Oh blest Lenaeus ! to pursue the God, 
 
 Who round his brow ereen vine-leaves doth entwine 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE XXVI. 
 
 To Venus. 
 
 W LATELY lived a squire of dames, 
 
 ^ A victor in the lists of love ; 
 
 Such contests o’er, the arms I used 
 
 And hi^h-strung harp, this wall shall have 
 
 This wall which sea-born Venus guards 
 Upon her left. Here, here, dispose 
 The shining torches, crowbars too, 
 
 And, doors opposing, threat’ning bows. 
 
 Goddess ! who boldest Cyprus blest. 
 
 And Memphis from Sithonian snow 
 Aye free ! Oh Queen ! thy whirling scourge 
 But once let haughty Chloe know ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXVII. 
 To Galatea. 
 
 AY the ill omen of the screech-owl’s cry, 
 
 Of pregnant bitch, or grey wolf running by 
 From the Lanuvian fields, or fox with young. 
 Before the path of impious men be flung ! 
 
 May ev’ry journey which they undertake 
 Be broken by the sight of writhing snake 
 Which, like an arrow, shall the steeds affright ! 
 What shall I fear, an augur of foresight ? 
 
 By prayer from sunrise will I supplicate 
 The boding raven, ere the bird of Fate, 
 Prophetic ever of impending rain, 
 
 To stagnant marshes shall return again. 
 
 May’st thou be happy, Galatea, where’er 
 Thou art, and may’st thou live a soul to bear 
 Mindful of me ; nor may the wand’ring crow 
 Nor magpie on the left bar thee to go. 
 
 
 
 
 144 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 But see’st thou not with what tumultuous rage 
 Sets grim Orion ? I can well presage 
 How Adriatic’s darksome gulf can heave, 
 
 And how fair West winds will at times deceive. 
 
 Let wives and children of our foemen know 
 
 The blinding tempests when the South winds blow ; 
 
 The roar of ocean, black as midnight hour ; 
 
 And shores all trembling with the raging pow’r. 
 
 So did Europa trust her snowy side 
 To treach’rous bull, but at the ocean wide. 
 
 With monsters teeming, brave, she pallid grew 
 When the vile fraud was opened to her view. 
 
 She who so lately, busied with her flowers, 
 
 A garland weaving, passed afield the hours,- 
 Owed to the Nymphs ; now in the darksome night 
 Saw naught but stars and waves by fading light. 
 
 So soon as Crete, of hundred towns the pride. 
 
 She reached, with horror overcome she cried :— 
 
 ‘ Oh Father ! Oh dear name of daughter left! 
 
 ‘ And oh ! my fame, of which I am bereft ! 
 
 ‘Whence? Whither have I come? For virgins’ cri 
 ‘ One death too light ! In this my waking time 
 ‘ Foul sin do I deplore ? Or am I free 
 ‘ From wicked act, and does a phantom me 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 “ Deceive, which, flying from the iv’ry gate, 
 
 “ Comes in my sleep ? Which were the better fate ; 
 
 “ Thro’ never-ending waves to plough my way, 
 
 “ Or gather budding blossoms all the day ? 
 
 “ If to me now, enraged, would any give 
 “ That hated bull, to pierce him would I strive 
 “ With the sharp sword ; to break with all my might 
 “ The monster’s horns, once beauteous in my sight. 
 
 “ Oh shameless ! have I left my Father’s home ! 
 
 “ Oh shameless ! I delay to death to come ! 
 
 “ If any of the Gods my sin should know, 
 
 “ Naked ’mid lions should I long to go ! 
 
 “ Before my rounded checks by foul decay 
 “ Re seized, and freshness from their tender prey 
 “ Shall pass away, tigers i’ll seek with speed, 
 
 “ Whilst yet I’m comely, with my flesh to feed ! 
 
 “ ‘ Europa vile ’! such absent Father’s cry, 
 
 “ ‘ Why dost thou hesitate at once to die ? 
 
 “ ‘ Fit for such purpose, now thy girdle take 
 “ ' Suspended from this ash thy neck to break ; 
 
 “ ‘ Or if high cliffs and rocks with death replete 
 “ ‘ Thou dost prefer, haste now to tempest fleet 
 “ ‘ Thyself to trust ; sure thou, of royal race, 
 
 “ ‘ Would’st never card a mistress’ wool, nor place 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 “ ‘ Thyself, a wanton, in barbarian home.’ ” 
 Sly-smiling Venus and her Boy now come. 
 
 With bow unbent, to her complaining so ; 
 
 Soon when she thought she’d rallied her enow’. 
 
 Thus did she speak :—From angry chidings cease 
 “ And from sad wailing. Let there now be peace. 
 
 “ Restrain thine anger when his stately horn 
 “ The hated bull surrenders to be torn. 
 
 “ Dost thou not know that it doth thee behove 
 “To be the consort of all-conqu’ring Jove? 
 
 “ Cease then thy sobs, and learn to wear thy fame, 
 
 “ One quarter of the Globe shall bear thy name.” 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXVIII. 
 To L V D E . 
 
 "^^THAT better can I do on Neptune’s festal day ? 
 
 r r Quick, Lyde, bring the Caecuban 
 
 In the dark cellar hid, and drive for once away 
 Wisdom our guardian ! 
 
 You must perceive how quickly passes noon and yet. 
 
 As tho’ stood still the flying day. 
 
 The jar when Bibulus was consul stored forget 
 From bin to bring away, 
 
 Neptune I’ll sing and Nereids’ loclvs with sea-weed girt 
 By turns. And you, to sounding lute. 
 
 Shall sing responsive of Latona and the dart 
 Of Cynthia swift of foot. 
 
 That song complete, next shall you sing her whom delight 
 Paphos and shining Cyclades, 
 
 Who Cnidos visits with her harnessed swans. And Niglit 
 With song deserved appease. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 ODE XXIX. 
 
 To Maecenas. 
 
 AECENAS, progeny of Tuscan Kings, 
 
 For thee rich wine my humble cottage brings, 
 Long stored in cask which not before 
 Hath tilted been. The rose’s flower 
 
 And bright oil for thy locks. Now all delays 
 Avoid, nor Tibur moist behold always, 
 
 Nor sloping Aesula, nor hill 
 Of him who did Ulysses kill. 
 
 Leave dainty wealth and palaces which rise 
 To loft}^ clouds ; nor in the smoky skies 
 Delight, nor in the busy hum 
 And teeming wealth of happy Rome. 
 
 To rich men changes oft must grateful be, 
 
 And cleanly meal beneath the low roof-tree 
 
 Of a poor friend smooths brow of care. 
 Curtains without or purple rare. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Now doth Andromeda’s renowned sire 
 
 His hidden fire reveal, now Procyon’s ire 
 And raging Lion’s star return, 
 
 The sultry days brings back the sun. 
 
 Now the tired shepherd and his languid flock 
 
 The shades, the streams, and thicket-covered rock 
 Of rough Silvanus seek ; the shore 
 By vagrant winds is stirr’d no more. 
 
 Thy care what constitution fits the state ; 
 
 Thine anxious fears are all for Rome. What fate 
 The Seres bring and Bactra, ruled 
 By Cyrus, and Tanai’s bold. 
 
 Wise God enshrouds events in misty night 
 
 Of future time ; and at our mortal fright 
 
 He smiles when overstrained. Take care 
 To set in order just and fair 
 
 The present times ; the future may be found 
 
 Like some great river, now in channel bound, 
 Which calmly glides to Tuscan sea ; 
 
 Now rolling down in torrent free 
 
 Worn stones and torn-up roots, houses, and flocks, 
 
 ’Mid echoes of the ncighb’ring woods and rocks. 
 Which, whirling down in foaming spate. 
 The quiet rivers irritate. 
 
BOOK til. 
 
 Me, master of himself, each happy day 
 To whom ’tis lawful—“ I have lived ”—to say, 
 
 Is blessed. To-morrow let the Sire 
 The pole enwrap in clouds of fire. 
 
 Or dazzle with his sun. Yet aye beware 
 Lest nothing' from the past you learn ; nor mar, 
 Mor undo what the flying hour 
 Math once effected by its power. 
 
 h'ortune, delighting in her cruel scheme, 
 Persistent still to play her horrid game, 
 Uncertain honours takes away, 
 
 Now kind to others, now to me. 
 
 I laud her while she stays. If pinions swift 
 She flutters, freely I resign her gift ; 
 
 Myself in my own virtue fold, 
 Preferring honest want to gold. 
 
 If under Afric’s storms the mast shall groan, 
 
 ’Tis not for me to coward prayers to run. 
 
 Nor yet with anxious vows enquire 
 If wares of Cyprus or of Tyre 
 
 Shall swell the riches of the greedy seas, 
 
 ICcn then the help of two-oared boat, or breeze. 
 Or Pollux’ twin, may still me save 
 I'rom wild Acgacan’s stormy wave ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XXX. 
 
 / 
 
 1' o Mel p o m e n e . 
 
 4 MONUMENT Tvc raised, more lasting far 
 ilk Than bronze, and loftier than the ro)'al site 
 Of pyramids ; which neither biting shower. 
 
 Nor impotent North-wind, nor rapid flight 
 
 Of years, nor lapse of countless time 
 
 Can e’er destroy. I shall not wholly die ! 
 
 My nobler part shall death escape ! My fame 
 Renewed by praises of posterity. 
 
 So long as priest and silent virgin climb 
 
 The Capitol. I shall be named where roars 
 Swift Aufidus ; where Daunus’ scanty stream 
 A rustic race hath ruled. My genius soars 
 
 From humble origin, who first attuned 
 
 To Grecian measures Latin song. The grace 
 Assume, by merit earned ; my locks around, 
 Melpomene, the Delphic laurel place ! 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 ODE 1. 
 
 To Venus. 
 
 H VENUS! dost thou plot again 
 The wars long ceased ? Spare me, I pray, I pray ! 
 
 I am not what I was in reign 
 Of gentle Cinara ! Cease then to sway, 
 
 Who of sweet loves great mother art, 
 
 Me hardened by the flight of fifty years 
 
 Against thy soft commands ! Depart 
 Where thou art called by youths’ alluring prayers ! 
 
 More fitly shalt thou to the home 
 Of Paullus Maximus repair, thou swift 
 
 With swans divine, if thou wouldst come 
 A fitting heart with burning love t’ engift. 
 
 High-born and handsome he, whose skill 
 Is eloquent in anxious suitors’ cause ; 
 
 Youth of a hundred arts, he will 
 Bear far and wide the standards of thy wars. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 And when he shall prevail in love 
 And laugh to scorn his rival’s presents large, 
 
 He’ll place thee under citron roof 
 In marble, by the Alban waters’ marge ; 
 
 I'here with thy nostrils to inhale 
 Much incense, whilst the Bcrecyntian flutes 
 
 And harps shall charm, nor shall there fail 
 To thee the mingled harmony of lutes. 
 
 There twice in every day the boys 
 And tender virgins shall thy godhead sing ; 
 
 Whilst, with white foot and Salian noise, 
 
 To thee the shaken ground shall three times ring. 
 
 Nor maid, nor youth, delights me now. 
 
 Nor hope believing mutual love is mine. 
 
 In drinking to contend, nor brow 
 With fresh-cut blossoms of the flowers to twine ! 
 
 But why ! ah Ligurinus, why 
 Adown my cheeks do tears unwonted steal ? 
 
 Why do the dulcet accents die 
 Upon my tongue in silence pitiful? 
 
 Now do I hold thee in my dreams 
 Clasped to my heart ! Now do I follow thee. 
 
 Swift dashing thro’ the h'ield of Arms, 
 
 And thee, obdurate, o’er the dancing sea ! 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 To I U L U S A N T O N I U S . 
 
 E who would rival Pindar’s fame 
 Like him, lulus, shall give name 
 To glassy sea, raised by Daedalean skill 
 
 On waxen quill. 
 
 Like mountain stream which whirls amain 
 Beyond its banks, when swoll’n by rain, 
 
 So glorious Pindar foams and sweeps along, 
 
 In mighty song. 
 
 Worthy is he of Phoebus’ bays. 
 
 Whether he chaunts new words of praise 
 In daring dith’rambs, and in numbers free 
 
 From rule may be. 
 
 Whether of Gods or God-sprung kings. 
 
 By whom the Centaurs fell, he sings. 
 
 To death deserved ; who dread Chimaera’s might 
 
 Could put to flight : 
 
ODKS OF HORACE. 
 
 Or sings of those whom Elis’ meed 
 Sent home with glory ; of the steed, 
 
 Or wrestler ; more than hundred statues lifts 
 With nobler gifts : 
 
 Or, snatch’d away from weeping bride. 
 
 Some youth deplores, whose strength and pride 
 And morals pure he raises to the sky. 
 
 Never to die : 
 
 High the Dircaean Swan careers 
 On mighty gale, whene’er he soars 
 Thro’ lofty clouds. I, like Matinian bee. 
 
 Of small degree. 
 
 In style and mode, Antonius, sip 
 The pleasant thyme with labour deep, 
 
 ’Mid groves and banks of Tibur moist creep on 
 In laboured song. 
 
 Thou, loftier poet, shalt Caesar sing, 
 
 When well-won garland he shall bring 
 And drag the fierce Sygambri at his will. 
 
 Up sacred hill : 
 
 Than whom the Fates and Gods of heaven 
 Not one more great to earth have given. 
 
 None better ; not though we again behold 
 The age of gold. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 And thou shalt sing the happy times, 
 
 The City’s sports, when Caesar comes, 
 
 Brave chieftain prayed-for long ; and when no cause 
 
 rhe forum knows. 
 
 Then shall my voice the silence break, 
 
 (If aught worth hearing I can speak,) 
 
 And, Caesar home, will sing :—“ Oh glorious days ! 
 
 “ Oh worthy praise ! ” 
 
 And as he passes thou and I, 
 
 And all the city too, shall cry :— 
 
 “ Hail, conqu’ring hero ! ” and to Gods above 
 
 Will incense give. 
 
 Ten bulls and cows as many thee 
 Shall then absolve ; a young calf me 
 Which, parted from its dam, in broad fields grows 
 
 To pay my vows : 
 
 Its forehead like the flaming horn 
 Of moon thrice risen, where is borne 
 A beauteous snow-white blaze, the rest to view 
 
 Of tawny hue. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE III. 
 
 / 
 
 To Melpomene. 
 
 HOM thou, Melpomene, hast seen 
 With fav’ring eye at natal hour. 
 
 In Isthmian contest ne’er hath been 
 Made famous by the wrestler’s power ; 
 
 Nor by swift steed as victor drawn 
 In Grecian car ; nor, chieftain famed 
 In Capitol, whose feats adorn 
 
 The Delian leaves, the threat’nings tamed 
 
 Of boastful kings. The streams that flow 
 By Tibur rich, the leaves among 
 Of her dense groves, his name shall show, 
 
 A master of Aeolian song. 
 
 Rome’s offspring, chief of cities, deigns 
 To rank me ’mid the chorus fair 
 Of bards, and now no more remains 
 Of envy’s biting tooth the fear. 
 

 BOOK IV. 
 
 Oh Muse ! who aye dost modulate 
 Harmonious sound of golden shell, 
 And mak’st dumb fishes imitate 
 The music of the swans at will ; 
 
 That passers-by the name to give 
 As bard of Roman lyre combine, 
 Is all thy gift ; and that I live 
 
 And please, if I do please, is thine 
 
 
 159 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 The Praises of D r u s u s . 
 
 IKE the wing’d minister of thund’ring Jove, 
 
 Mj (To whom the King of Gods a kingdom gave 
 Amongst the flying birds, of faith the meed 
 About the matter of fair Ganymede,) 
 
 Whom youth and strength hereditary drove. 
 
 Of toil unknowing, from the nest of love ; 
 
 Whom vernal breezes and the clouds roll’d by 
 Unusual enterprizes taught to try ; 
 
 First tim’rous, soon a quickening impulse bore 
 Against the sheep-folds him to carry war ; 
 
 And next the longing after food and fight 
 The writhing serpents urged him on to smite : 
 
 Just as a she-goat, happily intent 
 On the rich food of pastures succulent, 
 
 A lion sees from dun dam’s milky teat 
 
 Just weaned, who’ll slay her soon with fang new-cut 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 So the Vindelici did Drusus see 
 Against the Rhaeti gaining victory 
 Under the Alps ; (whom custom thro’ all time 
 Right hands with Amazonian axe doth arm, 
 
 From what derived, I sought not to enquire. 
 
 Nor everything to know may we aspire 
 But bands long time victorious far and wide. 
 
 When youthful plans had tamed their conqu’ring pride. 
 
 Felt what an intellect well-trained, a race 
 Which had been nourish’d in auspicious place. 
 
 Could do ; how much the youthful Neros were 
 Indebted to Augustus’ fost’ring care. 
 
 Of brave and good men brave men are the seed. 
 
 There is in heifer, and there js in steed. 
 
 The virtue of their parents ; and begot 
 By warlike eagles peaceful doves are not. 
 
 By teaching innate talent grows the more. 
 
 And proper culture strengthens mental power ; 
 
 When morals wanting, then do actions base 
 Minds which are naturally good disgrace. 
 
 What thou, oh Rome, dost to the Neros owe 
 Let conquered Hasdrubal as witness show, 
 
 Metaurus’ stream, and that all beauteous day. 
 
 The darkness driven from Latium far away. 
 
 16] 
 
 L 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Which first upon their glorious victory smiled ; 
 When thro’ Italian towns the Afric’ wild 
 In fury rode, as flame ’mid pine trees cast, 
 
 Or thro’ Sicilian waves the Eastern blast. 
 
 From that day did the Roman youth increase 
 In prosp’rous labours, and returning peace 
 Restored the fanes by Punic rage o’erthrown, 
 And raised the statues of our Gods again. 
 
 ’Twas then at last false Hannibal did cry :— 
 
 “ Now we, like stags, of rav’ning wolves the prey, 
 
 “ Do tamely stoop to those whom to mislead 
 “ And fly from is a triumph fair indeed. 
 
 “ That nation which, tossed on the Tuscan wave, 
 
 “ Could in Ausonian cities bravely save 
 Their Gods, their children, and their aged sires, 
 
 “ From the burnt ashes of the Trojan fires ; 
 
 “ As when on Algidus the black-leaved oak, 
 
 “ By keen-edged axes lopped, e’en from the stroke 
 ‘ And from the pruning of its boughs doth feel 
 “ New strength and vigour from the very steel. 
 
 “ Nor did the Hydra’s severed body grow 
 “ More strong ’gainst Hercules’ repeated blow, 
 
 “ Who scorned defeat ; nor did the Colchians breed, 
 “ Nor Echionian Thebes, more monstrous seed. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 j “ Tho’ you may sink them in the deep, they will 
 
 1 “ More beauteous rise. Tho’ you may strive, yet still 
 “ The yet unconquered conqu’ror they’ll o’erthrow 
 “ In glorious warfare which your wives shall know. 
 
 ‘‘ No longer boasting messengers I’ll send 
 “ To Carthage. All my hope and fortune end, 
 
 “ The fortune of my name is gone,—is gone, < 
 
 ‘ For my brave brother Hasdrubal is slain ! ” 
 
 Nothing indeed there is which Claudian hands j 
 
 Cannot effect, whom Jupiter defends j 
 
 With providence benign, and whom shrewd care i 
 
 ) Conducts thro’ sharpest stratagems of war. 
 
 \ 
 
 ) 
 
 I ' 
 
 < { 
 
 
 163 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 1' o August u s 
 
 C OOD Leader ! sprung from Gods benign, 
 Best guardian of the Roman line, 
 
 Too long thou’rt absent, come with speed 
 To meet the sacred Senate’s need. 
 
 Bring back to us thy promised light, 
 
 For where, like Spring, thy visage bright 
 Thy people see, sweet pass the days 
 And brighter beam the heav’nly rays. 
 
 As mother who for son doth yearn 
 When South winds hinder his return 
 With hated blast, to his sweet home, 
 Compell’d Carpathian seas to roam 
 
 More than a year, with vow and prayer 
 And omen calls, nor from curved shore 
 Withdraws her gaze ; so, Caesar, thee 
 Thy faithful country longs to see. 
 
 NX** .KN, X> XN ,r*» y-N XN XN XVXN. XN X 
 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 The ox in safety roams the fields, 
 
 The happy land abundance yields, 
 
 Thro’ peaceful seas the sailors fly, 
 
 Faith fears doubt of its verity ; 
 
 Chaste homes no more adult’ries stain, 
 Morals and laws foul sin restrain, 
 
 Sons like their sires our matrons laud, 
 
 And punishment is sin’s reward. 
 
 Who fears the Parthian ? Who the Mede 
 From frozen clime? Or who the seed 
 Of fell Germania ? Whom can chafe 
 Spain’s savage war, whilst Caesar’s safe ? 
 
 On his own hills each evening sees. 
 
 And trains the vine to sapless trees. 
 
 Hence to his wine returns with glee 
 And, as a God, to feast bids thee. 
 
 With many prayers he thee adores, 
 
 With wine which from the cups he pours ; 
 Thy Godhead in his Lares sees. 
 
 As Castor Greece, and Hercules. 
 
 Good Leader ! would that thou may’st bring 
 Long joys to Rome ! This we will sing 
 When dry in early morn, and when 
 Well drunk, ’neath ocean sinks the sun. 
 
 165 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 To Apollo. 
 
 e H GOD ! whom Niobe’s fair children knew, 
 Avenger of a boastful tongue ; who slew 
 Tityus the thief; Phthian Achilles too, 
 
 Nigh victor of proud Troy. 
 
 A soldier greater than the rest, not near 
 
 Thy match ; tho’, warring with tremendous spear. 
 
 He made Dardanian turrets shake with fear,— 
 
 Of sea-born Thetis boy. 
 
 Like pine tree struck by biting iron’s blows. 
 
 Or cypress which the eastern blast o’erthrows. 
 
 So falls he far, and his proud neck he bows 
 In Trojan dust to fall. 
 
 He, not enclosed within the lying horse, 
 
 Pallas’ pretended gift, would have recourse 
 To craft ’gainst foolish Trojans who rejoice 
 To dance in Priam’s hall : 
 
 But to the captured openly severe, 
 
 (Impious ! alas !) with Grecian fire he swore 
 That guiltless infants he would burn ;—nay more. 
 E’en in their mother’s womb ! 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 Had not the Father of the Gods bestowed 
 Upon Aeneas’ fortunes an abode 
 Of mightier auspices, by thee implored 
 And Venus sweet, o’ercome. 
 
 Phoebus ! accomplished bard of Thalia wise. 
 
 Who lav’st thy locks where Xanthus’ river lies ! 
 Gentle Agyieus, of the Daunian Muse 
 Do thou defend the fame ! 
 
 Phoebus hath given me soul, Phoebus the art 
 Of song hath given, and the proud name of poet ! 
 Oh high-born virgins, and oh boys who start 
 From sires of lofty name ; 
 
 Oh wards of Delian Goddess, who doth cow 
 The stags and flying lynxes with her bow ; 
 Observe the Lesbian time, and mark the blow 
 Of my uplifted thumb. 
 
 Duly Latona s son shall wake your song. 
 
 Duly fair Luna’s light, which grows more strong, 
 Prosp’rous in fruits, and swift to roll along 
 The passing months that come. 
 
 Now married, thou wilt say :—“ Obedient I 
 “ Unto the measures of bard Horace, say 
 ‘ Hymns pleasing to the Gods ; the century 
 
 The festal day brings round.’ 
 
 167 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 To Torquatus. 
 
 ^HE snows are fled. Green smiles the rich champaign, 
 
 Now bursts the leaf; 
 
 By lofty banks the loosened rivers dash, 
 
 All changed the earth ! 
 
 The light-clad Nymphs and graceful Sisters three 
 
 Now lead the dance. 
 
 Hope not to live ! The dying day and year 
 
 Thine end advance. 
 
 The gentle winds to biting frosts succeed. 
 
 Summer to Spring ; 
 
 Fruit-bearing Autumn fades ; and see again 
 
 The Winters bring. 
 
 So Nature lives again in endless round ; 
 
 Alas ! not we ! 
 
 Where sire Aeneas and rich Ancus lie 
 
 We’ll shadows be ! 
 
 
 iGH 
 
hook IV 
 
 If death to-morrow or long life shall be, 
 
 Not thine to know : 
 
 The greedy clutches of thine heir shall grasp 
 
 All left below ! 
 
 Once dead, Torquatus, and thine awful doom 
 
 By Minos given ; 
 
 High birth, nor eloquence, nor piety. 
 
 Bring back from heaven ! 
 
 To free Hippolytus from shades below 
 
 Must Dian fail : 
 
 Nor snatch Pirithous from Lethe’s bond 
 
 Theseus prevail ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 
 To Censor INUS. 
 
 CENSORINUS ! I would give with joy 
 \W To my companions cups and brazen toy ; 
 Tripods, the valiant Grecians’ prize, Td give, 
 
 Nor poorest of my gifts should you receive ; 
 
 If I were rich in works of art indeed. 
 
 Such as Parrhasius or as Scopas made ; 
 
 This one in stone, and that in colours warm, 
 Skill’d now a man, and now a God, to form. 
 
 But not this pow’r to me ! Nor do your means 
 Such whims demand, nor inclination leans. 
 
 In songs do you delight. Songs can I make. 
 And tell the value of the gift you take. 
 
 Not marble ’graved with formal words of praise 
 Which, after death, to mighty chiefs can raise 
 The breath and life again ; not swift retreat 
 Of Hannibal, when threats with scorn were met. 
 
V^- 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 Not all the flames which impious Carthage knew, 
 
 /t* /|^ /T\ /T» /fv 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 /JS /J\ /JV /JV 
 
 The praise of that man can more clearly shew, 
 
 Who home returned tamed Afric’s name to use 
 In warfare gained, than the Calabrian Muse. 
 
 Nor, if my pen be still, by you be won 
 
 Fit honour for good deeds. What would the son 
 
 Of Mars and Ilia be, if silent spite 
 
 The worth of Romulus had hid ? The might, 
 
 The favour, and the voice of bards sublime 
 Make Aeacus immortal, from the slime 
 
 Of Stygian flood removed to islands blest. 
 
 The Muse forbids good men unknown to rest ! 
 
 The Muse adds bliss to heav’n ! His labour ends 
 When Hercules the feasts of Jove attends. 
 
 Tyndareus’ sons, that constellation bright. 
 
 Snatch shattered ships from stormy ocean’s might. 
 Bacchus, with green vine tendrils deck’d his brows. 
 Gives a successful issue to our vows. 
 
Ot>ES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE IX. 
 
 To L O L L I u s. 
 
 not indeed the words will die 
 A I speak to mate with minstrelsy 
 By arts before unknown to us ;— 
 
 I, born by roaring Aufidus ! 
 
 Tho’ first Maeonian Homer’s throne, 
 Pindar and Cean bard are known ; 
 
 The lofty strains of Alcaeus, 
 
 And grave ones of Stesichorus. 
 
 Nor if Anacreon enjoyed 
 Gay odes to write, has time destroyed ; 
 Still breathes the love and lives the fire 
 Sung by Aeolian maid to lyre. 
 
 Nor for adulterer’s bright tress, 
 Attracted by his gilded dress. 
 
 His royal port, and courtly train, 
 Did Spartan Helen only burn.' 
 
 172 
 
liOOK IV. 
 
 Nor first did Teucer arrows fly 
 From bow Cydonian ; nor was Troy 
 But harried once ; nor Sthenelus, 
 
 Nor mighty Idomeneus, 
 
 Alone fought battles sung by Muse ; 
 Nor first did brave Deiphobus, 
 
 Nor Hector fierce, stout blows receive 
 Chaste wives and children to relieve. 
 
 Ere Agamemnon many brave 
 Men lived, but hid in nameless grave, 
 All are unsorrowed and unknown. 
 
 For lack of sacred bard alone. 
 
 Virtue unknown scarce better is 
 Than buried sloth. Oh ! Lollius, 
 
 No longer silent, I will write 
 Thy praise, nor let oblivion’s spite 
 
 Upon thy many labours seize 
 Without an effort. Times of case 
 And times of chill adversity 
 Alike find steady mind in thee. 
 
 Avenger thou of greedy fraud, 
 
 Above attractive pelf’s reward, 
 Consul, not of one year alone. 
 
 But oft as magistrate hast shewn 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Thy faith and honour in thy choice ; 
 
 Whom virtues more than gain rejoice ; 
 
 Who base men’s gifts rejects with scorn, 
 
 And thro’ wild mobs bright arms hast borne. 
 
 Him happy we can’t rightly call 
 Great wealth who holds. To him will fall 
 The name of blest, the gifts who knows 
 To wisely use which God bestows : 
 
 Who cruel want with patience bears. 
 
 And worse than death dishonour fears : 
 
 That man to die is not afraid. 
 
 For friends belov’d or country’s aid. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 To L I (; u R 1 N u s . 
 
 0 |H ! cruel still and potent with the gifts of love ! 
 
 When age unwelcome shall your lofty pride remove 
 And hair fall off, which now down to your shoulders grows 
 And tints now brighter than the bloom of reddest rose 
 Faded, oh ! Ligurinus, seamed your face shall be : 
 
 “ Alas ! ” you’ll say when in your mirror chang’d you’ll see 
 Yourself; “Why is my mind not same as when a boy, 
 
 “ Nor rounded cheeks again the sweets of youth enjoy?” 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XL 
 
 To Phyllis. 
 
 I JHYLLIS, a cask of Alban wine 
 ^ I have, surviving winters nine ; 
 Parsley, which you in wreaths may twiiTC, 
 And ivy ample store. 
 
 Which brightly shall your locks array : 
 
 My house with silver plate is gay : 
 
 The altars, bound with vervain, pray 
 Now to be sprinkled o’er 
 
 With offered lamb. All hands make haste 
 No time the girls and boys will waste ; 
 Whilst o’er the roof black smoke is chased 
 By curls of quiv’ring flame. 
 
 That you may know your coming joy. 
 
 The Ides your service shall employ. 
 
 For April’s month divides this day. 
 
 Of sea-born Venus’ name. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 This day, more sacred in my sight 
 Than my own birthday, gives delight. 
 From it Maecenas, my dear knight. 
 
 Still counts the flowing years. 
 
 A rich and loving maid has caught 
 Young Telephus, whom once you sought; 
 Above your station he is thought. 
 
 Her pleasing chain he wears. 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 i ■ 
 
 ( 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 Burnt Phaethon unmeasured greed 
 Shall fri ghten ; and the winged steed, 
 
 Wild Pegasus, from rider freed. 
 
 Earth-born Bellerophon : 
 
 That you should worthy hopes pursue. 
 
 Nor have unequal match in view. 
 
 But think it base wrong things to do : 
 
 Come, of mv loves the last! 
 
 (For for no other maid Fll burn,) 
 
 Come then, with me the measiires learn 
 Which you with voice belov’d shall turn,— 
 Song cares away shall cast ! 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 ( 
 
 '77 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XII. 
 To Virgil, 
 
 S OW Thracian breezes, harbingers of spring, 
 Impel the sails and calm to ocean bring ; 
 Now neither frozen are the meads, nor flow 
 The roaring rivers swoll’n with winter snow. 
 
 The bird unhappy now her nest prepares, 
 
 Who mourns the fate of Itys with her tears ; 
 Eternal shame on Cecrops’ line she brings, 
 
 Who, base, aveng’d the barb’rous lust of kings. 
 
 The guardians of fat sheep, in pastures bright. 
 Sing songs to strain of pipe, and thus delight 
 The God who wand’ring flocks with pleasure sees. 
 And whom Arcadia’s shady mountains please. 
 
 Virgil, the season hath engendered thirst. 
 
 But if to quaff the wine you covet most 
 In Gales pressed, oh friend of noble boys, 
 
 You wish, for it your costly spikenard pays ! 
 
 
 178 
 

 BOOK IV. : 
 
 A little box of spikenard shall reveal 
 
 A cask Sulpicius’ cellars now conceal ; j 
 
 Gen’rous to give new hopes, doubt not it may j 
 
 The bitterness of sorrow wash away. j 
 
 If you would haste to joys like these, come swift | 
 
 And bring your merchandize ; without a gift j 
 
 That you should drain my cups I can’t afford. 
 
 As tho’ a rich man with a house well stored. | 
 
 ) 
 
 > 
 
 Now leave delays and the desire for gain, > 
 
 Mindful of flames below ; with wisdom’s pain \ 
 
 A little folly mingle whilst you may ; \ 
 
 In the right place ’tis sweet the fool to play ! | 
 
 ) 
 
 1 
 
 ) 
 
 I 
 
 ) 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XIII. 
 To L Y C E. 
 
 YCE, the Gods have heard my vow ; 
 
 I. .yce, the Gods have heard ; for now 
 Thou’rt old, but shameless still, 
 
 Would’st fain seem fair, and frisk, and drink thy fill ; 
 
 And, drunk, dost tardy Cupid woo 
 With quav’ring song, the fair cheeks who 
 Of youthful Chia loves. 
 
 Whose well-taught song his true affection moves. 
 
 Beyond the barren oaks he flies, 
 
 Rejecting thee, whene’er he spies 
 
 Black teeth which thee disgrace. 
 
 And snow-white hair and seamed and wrinkled face. 
 
 Nor Coan purples now bring back. 
 
 Nor sparkling gems, to thee the lack 
 Of youth, which flying day 
 And records too well known have ta’cn away. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 Whither flies love ? Alas ! or where 
 Thy bloom ? Where doth that grace appear ? 
 Of her what hast thou still,— 
 
 Of her who love inspired e’en ’gainst my will ? 
 
 Blest next to Cinara thou’rt named, 
 
 Whose face for witching arts was famed ; 
 
 To Cinara the Fates 
 
 Few years have given, whilst still for Lyce waits 
 
 The tedious age of raven old. 
 
 That fervid youngsters may behold, 
 
 With laughter loud and long, 
 
 The torch that burnt them in the ashes flung 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 To Augustus. 
 
 HAT care of Senate or of Roman race 
 Thy fame, Augustus, shall for ever grace 
 By ample gifts of high reward. 
 Inscriptions cut and long record ; 
 
 Greatest of chieftains, wheresoe’er the sun 
 O’er habitable shores his course doth run ? 
 Vindelici, of Latin law. 
 
 Which they had never known before. 
 
 Have lately learnt, and what thy warlike might. 
 For with thy soldiers did brave Drusus smite 
 The wild Genauni, restless grown. 
 
 And Breuni swift, not once alone ; 
 
 And forts which frown from lofty Alpine height. 
 The elder Nero late in mighty fight 
 
 Engaged, and soon the Rhaeti fell,. 
 
 With prosp’rous auspice, did repel. 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 In martial conflict aye to be admired, 
 
 With what destruction he the bosoms tired 
 Devoted to a willing death ; 
 
 Just as the South wind’s furious breath 
 
 The tameless waters lashes, when divides 
 The clouds the chorus of the Pleiades ; 
 
 So swift he harries troops of foes. 
 
 Thro’ flames on foaming steed he goes. 
 
 As bull-shaped Aufidus rolls on, which drains 
 Of our Apulian Daunus the domains, 
 
 And threatens, in his raging mood. 
 
 To cultured fields a dreadful flood ; 
 
 So Claudius hath with mighty shock o’erthrown 
 Barbarian ranks of steel, and mowing down 
 
 Both front and rear, hath strewn the plain 
 With dead, none of his soldiers slain : 
 
 Thou giving him thy troops, thy counsel’s aid. 
 And fortune. For since Alexandria made 
 Her homage, and did open wide 
 Her ports and empty halls of pride ; 
 
 To the third lustrum fortune fav’ring thee, 
 
 A prosp’rous issue to thy wars shall be. 
 
 And praise be giv’n and wish’d for fame. 
 And victory attend thy name. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Oh guardian prompt of Italy and Rome, 
 
 The tameless Spaniard and the Mede shall come, 
 The Indian and the Scythian fleet. 
 
 In suppliant homage to thy feet. 
 
 And Nile, which hides the sources of her wave. 
 And lands which Danube and swift Tigris lave. 
 And monster-breeding seas which roar 
 Around the distant British shore. 
 
 Thee death-despising land of Gaul shall hear. 
 
 The hardy Spaniard and Sygambri fear. 
 
 Their love of slaughter and their pride 
 Subdued, their arms shall cast aside. 
 

 •y^^^^^y\^y^y^y 
 
 '>■ y^ y^ y^ y^y 
 
 •> y- y>>y- y^y^^ y^y-m 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 ODE XV. 
 
 1' H E Praises of A u g u s t u s . 
 
 IftHOEBUS to sing forbad me to aspire 
 JkL Of wars and conquered cities to my lyre, 
 
 My puny sails to spread bade me refrain 
 Upon the Tyrrhene sea. Caesar, thy reign 
 
 Hath to our fields brought back a rich reward 
 And to our sky the standards hath restored 
 From the proud posterns of the Parthians ta’en ; 
 And freed at last from war, hath closed again 
 
 The gates of Janus of Ouirinus hight ; 
 
 And wild licentiousness hath bridled tight 
 By firm decrees, and crime hath ta’en away. 
 
 And back to virtue giv’n her ancient sway. 
 
 By which the glory of the Latin name 
 And Roman pow’r have grown ; our empire’s fame 
 And majesty from rising sun have spread 
 To where he sinks upon his western bed. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Whilst Caesar is the guardian of our state 
 Not civil war nor violence irate 
 Our peace shall drive away, nor cities poor 
 By rage which sharpens swords embroil in war. 
 
 They who deep Danube drink shall subject be 
 To Julian laws, and Seres, and Getae, 
 
 And the perfidious Persians, and the race 
 Born by the banks of flowing Tanais. 
 
 Then we, on common and on sacred days, 
 
 ’Mid merry Bacchus’ gifts, the song will raise. 
 With wives and children, (first having given 
 Due supplication to the Gods of heaven). 
 
 To chieftains who have bravely fought, and Troy, 
 Anchises too, and lovely Venus’ boy ; 
 
 With songs which mingle with the Lydian lyres. 
 According- to the custom of our sires. 
 

 
 THE SAECULAR HYMN. 
 
 THE SAECULAR HYMN. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 E Gods ! who love the forest shades, 
 
 JL By turns the glory of the sky ; 
 
 Phoebus, whose worship never fades, 
 
 And Dian, who art ever nigh, 
 
 Oh grant the bliss for which we pray. 
 
 Upon this great and holy day! 
 
 Let chosen maids and virgin boys, 
 
 As the mysterious Sibyl taught. 
 
 In sacred hymns upraise their voice 
 To you who have our glory sought ; 
 
 Let all the seven hills resound 
 
 With songs of praise that shake the ground. 
 
 Bright Sun ! who, in thy radiant car. 
 
 Dost both reveal and hide the day. 
 
 And still returning from afar. 
 
 Again dost shed thy genial ray ; 
 
 No mightier nation may’st thou see 
 Than Rome, the lord of earth and sea ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Ilithyia! gentle thou and kind, 
 
 Who givest ease to mothers’ woes, 
 May Roman mothers ever find 
 
 Thee still propitious to their throes ; 
 Whether Lucina be thy name, 
 Or Genitalis, still the same. 
 
 Oh ! grant a still increasing race, 
 
 And prosper all our Senate’s laws ; 
 
 May constant nuptials e’er replace 
 The drain of sickness and of wars. 
 
 And children cluster round the knee 
 Of each fond wife who prays to thee ! 
 
 Then when the fast-revolving years 
 Bring round again the Sacred Games, 
 
 We’ll cast aside all doubts and fears 
 Whilst eager joy our souls inflames. 
 
 And thrice by night and thrice by day. 
 By turns we’ll sing, by turns we’ll pla)^ 
 
 And you, ye Fates, whose truthful voice 
 Of heaven proclaims the fixed decrees, 
 Who cannot turn our woes to joys. 
 
 And speak not mortal whims to please ; 
 May future happiness afford 
 Fit sequel to your past record ! 
 
 188 
 
THE SAPXULAR HYMN. 
 
 May Earth, still lavish of her fruits, 
 
 Crown Ceres with the wreath of corn ; 
 
 May rains refresh the budding shoots, 
 
 And flowers salute the rising morn ; 
 
 May gentle Zephyrs sweep the plain, 
 
 And ruddy Health in gladness reign. 
 
 Oh Phoebus ! hide thy glittering dart, 
 
 The suppliant youths in mercy hear! 
 
 Oh Luna ! bend thy gentle heart. 
 
 Receive the maidens’ fervent prayer ! 
 
 High ’mid the shining stars thou’rt seen. 
 The brightest there, the Crescent Queen ! 
 
 And if Rome stands by your command. 
 
 And if ye led the sons of Troy 
 
 To quit their own dear native land. 
 
 And touch th’ Etruscan shore with joy ; 
 
 To I lion’s cruel fate resigned, 
 
 They left their ancient Gods behind : 
 
 Whom chaste Aeneas, constant still. 
 
 And snatch’d by fate from Ilion’s doom. 
 
 With noble zeal and iron will. 
 
 Led from their stricken country’s tomb. 
 
 To found upon this happy shore 
 A nation mightier than before. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Oh ! grant, ye Gods, unto our sons 
 The gift of modest Virtue’s crown. 
 
 And grant unto our aged ones 
 
 In rest and peace to lay them down : 
 
 Give power, and fame, and happy home. 
 Unto the gallant sons of Rome. 
 
 o 
 
 And oh ! may he who decks our throne, 
 From Venus and Anchises sprung. 
 
 Who ne’er forgets your pow’r to own 
 By victims slain and praises sung ; 
 
 May he be victor o’er the foe 
 Who knows how mercy to bestow! 
 
 Yes! now the Roman lords the world. 
 
 The Alban axe the Persian awes ; 
 
 In peace the Sc3Thian flag is furled, 
 Submissive to the Roman laws ; 
 
 And, vanquish’d by Fate’s stern decree. 
 The haughty Indian bends the knee. 
 
 Now Faith, and Peace, and Truth return. 
 Nor Virtue dreads the light of day ; 
 
 No more our sons vile Passions burn. 
 And Modesty again bears sway ; 
 
 So happy Plenty comes again 
 To bless Augustus’ noble reign. 
 
 
 
 I 90 
 
THE SAECULAR HYMN. 
 
 May Phoebus, God of prophecy, 
 Adorned with the glittering bow. 
 For whom the Muses gently sigh 
 As sounds his lyre, soft and low ; 
 May he who by the healing art. 
 Doth to the sick relief impart; 
 
 If he with favouring eye behold 
 The Citadels of Palatine, 
 
 May he prolong to years untold 
 The glories of the Alban line ; 
 
 May haughty Latium lift her head 
 And on the neck of empires tread. 
 
 May Dian, whose proud temples stand 
 On Algidus and Aventine, 
 
 In mercy hear the pray’rful band 
 Who guard the volumes Sibylline, 
 And listen with propitious ears 
 Unto our ever grateful prayers ! 
 
 Then we, the Chorus, taught to sing 
 Of Phoebus and of Dian too. 
 
 Still pray that Time’s unfaltering wing 
 May all our ardent hopes renew. 
 
 Great Jove! and all ye heavenly band. 
 Oh shower these blessings on our land ! 
 
, 
 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 T H E ERODES 
 
 EPODE I. 
 
 To Maecenas. 
 
 H friend Maecenas, thou wilt take 
 
 i 
 
 Liburnian boats ’gainst bulwarks high 
 Of ships, prepared to undergo 
 
 Great Caesar’s perils and thine own. 
 What shall I do ? For life will be 
 Joyful if thou survive, but sad 
 If not. Shall I then take my ease, 
 
 Not sweet indeed unless with thee ? 
 
 Or brave, shall I thy labours bear 
 
 As a courageous man becomes ? 
 
 O 
 
 Bear them I will ! I’ll follow thee 
 With valiant heart to Alpine peaks. 
 Or to unfriendly Caucasus, 
 
 Or to the furthest western bay. 
 
 Dost ask how I thy work can help. 
 
 Who timid am and weak in health ? 
 As thy companion less I’ll fear, 
 
 ’Tis absence makes us fear the more ! 
 
 ) 
 
 ) . 
 
 * ’sy 'sy » 
 
 
 tt'sy'y>y\y>ysy\y\y sy^y'sys. 
 
 1 92 
 
As bird which watches callow brood, 
 Dreads more the gliding snake’s attack 
 When she’s away, tho’ powerless. 
 
 If she were there, to drive him back. 
 Gladly both this and cv’ry war 
 I’d fight in hope of pleasing thee ; 
 
 Not that my ploughs should till the land 
 Yoked to more oxen, nor my flock 
 Should change Calabria’s burning star 
 For mild Lucania’s verdant fields : 
 
 Not that my glitt’ring halls should vie 
 With walls of lofty Tusculum 
 By Circe built. Thy charity 
 
 1 lath given me wealth enough and more. 
 Riches I seek not to obtain. 
 
 Which cither I may bury deep. 
 
 Like miser Chremes, in the earth. 
 
 Or like a wasteful spendthrift lose ! 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 lU'ODE II. 
 
 I APPY is he who, far from business cares, 
 Like the first race of men, 
 
 With his own oxen tills paternal fields, 
 
 From money-lending freed ! 
 
 No soldier he, is by hoarse trumpet stirr’d. 
 
 Nor fears the angry sea ; 
 
 He shuns the Forum, and the portals proud 
 Of powerful citizens. 
 
 Therefore he either trains to poplars high 
 Phe robust shoots of vines j 
 Oi he surveys the herds of lowing* kinc 
 Straying in vale remote ; 
 
 And, lopping useless branches with his knife. 
 More fruitful ones engrafts ; 
 
 Or in pure vessels the press’d honey hoards ; 
 
 Or shears the tender sheep. 
 
 When in the fields doth Autumn rear his head, 
 Adorned with mellow fruits. 
 
 How he rejoices, plucking grafted pears 
 And purple-vying grapes, 
 hor thee, Priapus, and, Silvanus old, 
 
 Guardian of bounds, for thee. 
 
 
 ■* ^ 
 
 194 
 
 
THE EPODES. 
 
 Now he delights ’neath an old oak to lie, 
 
 Now in the tangled grass ; 
 
 Meanwhile the rivers glide ’twixt lofty banks, 
 
 The birds sing in the woods. 
 
 The fountains murmur with their trickling streams. 
 Which gentle sleep invite. 
 
 Hut when the wint’ry time of thund’ring Jove 
 The rain and snow brings down, 
 
 Either with many dogs the fierce wild boars 
 He drives to snaring toils. 
 
 Or fine-meshed nets with slender pole he spreads, 
 A trap for greedy thrush. 
 
 And takes the trembling hare and stranger crane 
 With snare, delightful prize ! 
 
 Who, ’mid such sports, does not forget his woes 
 And all the cares of love ? 
 
 Hut if chaste wife on her part helps to keep 
 His home and children sweet, 
 
 (Such as a Sabine dame, or sun-burnt spouse 
 Of an Apulian stout,) 
 
 And piles the sacred hearth with ancient logs 
 To meet her wearied mate; 
 
 And shutting pastured herds in wattled pens, 
 Drains their distended teats ; 
 
 And, drawing this year’s wine from vessel pure. 
 Dainties unbought prepares. 
 
 The Lucrine oysters could not me delight. 
 
 Nor turbot more, nor char, 
 
 If stormy winter from the Eastern waves 
 Hring any to this sea. 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Not Afric’s bird shall in my paunch descend, 
 
 Not the Ionian snipe, 
 
 More welcome than the olive gathered in 
 From richest boughs of trees. 
 Mead-loving sorrel, or the mallow sweet 
 Which sickly body soothes ; 
 
 Or lamb slain at the feast of Terminus, 
 
 Or kid from wolf escaped. 
 
 ’Mid feasts like these how it delights to see 
 The well-fed sheep haste home ; 
 
 To see the wearied ox with languid neck 
 Drawing inverted plough ; 
 
 And slaves drawn up, proof of a rich man’s house. 
 The shining Lares round.— 
 
 When this the usurer Alfius had said, 
 
 A rustic soon to be,' 
 
 Mis coin he called in at the Ides, yet seeks 
 In Kalends to put out. 
 
 
 
 
 196 
 

 the epodes. 
 
 EPODE IV. 
 •Against Menas. 
 
 u 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 (( 
 
 a 
 
 |ATRED as deep as Nature plants 
 
 ’Twixt wolves and lambs I bear to thee, 
 M^hose back with Spanish ropes is scored, 
 
 And shanks have cruel fetters worn. 
 
 Tho’, proud of pelf, you strut along. 
 
 Your fortune cannot change your breed. 
 When, swaggering through the Sacred Way, 
 
 In toga twice three ells in width, 
 
 Can you not see how boiling rage 
 The face of all who pass averts ? 
 
 This wretch,” they cry, “ triumvir’s whips 
 “ Have lash’d till e’en the crier was sick. 
 
 Yet now a thousand acres ploughs 
 “ Of rich Falernian soil. His nags 
 Wear out the Appian Way. As knight 
 “ In foremost place he sits, despite 
 Of Otho’s law. How happens it 
 “ So many beaks of pond’rous ships 
 ’Gainst thieves and servile band are led, 
 
 And yet a wretched knave like this 
 A military tribune is ? ” 
 
 (< 
 
 (( 
 
ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 < 
 
 ( 
 
 ( 
 
 ( 
 
 EPODE VI. 
 
 A (; A I N s T Cassius S e v e r u s . 
 
 « H frightened cur, if wolves be near, 
 
 Why dost thou harmless strangers fright ? 
 Come, turn on me thy braggart bark. 
 
 And dare at me again to bite ! 
 
 Like Spartan or Molussian hound, 
 
 Pdrm friend to shepherds in their need. 
 
 Thro’ the deep snows with ears erect, 
 
 I track the hated wild beast’s lead. 
 
 With fearsome howls thou fill’st the grove. 
 
 Or for rejected food dost fawn ; 
 
 Beware ! beware ! ’gainst villains fierce 
 I rush like bull with lowered horn. 
 
 Like proud Lycambes’ would-be son. 
 
 Or Bupalus’ keen enemy. 
 
 If envious tooth at me should gnash. 
 
 Shall I like puling infant cry ? 
 
THE EPODES 
 
 EPODE VII. 
 
 To THE Roman People. 
 
 HITHER! oh whither! wicked, do ye rush? 
 Why do your hands 
 
 Grasp swonis late hid ? 
 
 Has then too little of the Latin blood upon the lands 
 
 And seas been shed ? 
 
 Not that the turrets proud of hated Carthage Romans 
 may 
 
 Destroy by flame ! 
 
 Not that the yet unconquered Briton down the Sacred 
 Way 
 
 In chains may come ! 
 
 But by her own right hand this City may to ruin speed, 
 
 As Parthians long ! 
 
 Not such the custom e’en of wolves, save ’gainst 
 another breed. 
 
 Nor lions strong. 
 
 Does then blind frenzy, still more savage force, or sin 
 accurst 
 
 Upon you seize? 
 
 199 
 

 ODES OE HORACE. 
 
 They speak not ! O’er their countenance the ashy 
 pallors burst, 
 
 Their stunn’d souls freeze ! 
 
 Thus is it ! Bitter Fates and awful sin of fratricide 
 
 Must Rome atone, 
 
 Since with the blood of Remus innocent the earth was 
 dyed. 
 
 And curses sown ! 
 
 20'C 
 

 
 ^ 
 
 % 
 
 THE EPODES. 
 
 e:pode XIII. 
 
 To My P' r I e n d s . 
 
 4 FEARP'UL tempest hath o’erspread the sky, 
 jlIl From heaven the showers and snows descend 
 And now the woods resound, and now the sea. 
 
 Under the northern blasts of Thracian wind. 
 
 Seize then, oh friends, th’ occasion of the day. 
 
 And whilst ’tis fitting and our knees are firm. 
 
 Let age with clouded brow be driven away. 
 
 Bring forth the wines pressed in the distant term 
 When my Torquatus consul was. Forbear 
 
 Aught else to speak of; for perchance the God, 
 
 By happy change, may yet our bliss restore. 
 
 Now it delights me with the Persian nard 
 To be bedewed, and with Cyllenean string 
 My bosom to relieve from cares forlorn. 
 
 To his great pupil thus did Chiron sing :— 
 
 “ All-conqu’ring mortal ! boy of Thetis born ! 
 
 “ Assaracus’ domain now thee awaits, 
 
 “ Which small Scamander cleaves with frigid stream, 
 “And Simois swift ; from whose realm the P'ates 
 
 “ Have snapp’d the thread of thy return ; nor dream 
 “ That thee thine azure mother back can bear 
 “ To home again. Then manfully dispel, 
 
 “ By wine and soothing song, detested care, 
 
 “ And by sweet conversation sorrow quell 
 
 
 20 I 
 
1 
 
 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 KPODE XIV. 
 To Maecenas 
 
 'AECENAS kind, thou killest me 
 
 By asking oft why sloth should steep 
 My inmost sense with gentle power, 
 
 And lull me in oblivion deep ; 
 
 As tho’ with thirsty throat I’d quaffed 
 The cups which bring Lethean sleep ; 
 Commenced iambics to complete 
 
 The God ! the God ! now me doth keep, 
 Altho’ an Ode I promised thee. 
 
 Thus, say they, did Anacreon weep. 
 
 The Teian bard, for Bathyllus, 
 
 A Samian youth, and oft did heap 
 Song upon song to hollow shell 
 
 In careless rhyme. So o’er thee creep 
 The fires of love. Yet still rejoice 
 If flames more ardent did not leap 
 O’er Troy beseiged. Now, not content. 
 
 Fair Phryne, one love holding cheap. 
 
 That girl from serfdom lately freed. 
 
 My love is seeking still to keep. 
 
 202 
 

 
 
 THE EFODES. 
 
 EPODE XV. 
 To N E A E R A . 
 
 night. In sky serene amid the lesser stars 
 A Bri ght shone the moon above ; 
 
 When thou, so soon t’ eternal Gods to be forsworn, 
 Vowed in my words of love ; 
 
 Thy tender arms, like ivy to the lofty oak. 
 
 Close clinging to my breast; 
 
 So long as howling wolves strike terror into sheep. 
 
 So long as sailors’ rest 
 
 Shall be disturbed by him who lashes ocean wave, 
 
 Orion, curse of sea ; 
 
 So long as breezes fan Apollo’s locks unshorn ; 
 
 Our love should constant be. 
 
 Oh false Neaera ! thus to try my fortitude. 
 
 If Flaccus manhood hath, 
 
 Think’st thou he’ll bear thy constant love to other given. 
 And still restrain his wrath ? 
 
 To adverse fortune ne’er his steadfast soul shall yield, 
 Altho’ pierced thro’ by grief I 
 And thou ! more blest than I, who proudly struttest now. 
 My sorrow thy relief; 
 
 203 
 
 y-' 
 

 ODES OF HORACE. 
 
 Altho’ thou may’st be rich in flocks and spreading land, 
 For thee Pactolus flow, 
 
 To thee Pythagoras’ immortal lore be known. 
 
 Fairer than Nireus grow ! 
 
 Alas ! mine enemy, thou shalt lament ere long 
 Her love to rival given ! 
 
 Then in my turn again I at thy grief shall laugh. 
 
 Swift hurled by fate from heaven ! 
 
 204 
 
THE KPODKS. 
 
 EPODE XVI. 
 
 T O T H E R O MAN P E O PEE. 
 
 ll^OW is another age wasted in civil wars, 
 
 And Rome, by her own fury, headlong falls ! 
 
 She whom nor could the neighboring Marsi e’er destroy, 
 Nor threat’ning Porsena’s Etruscan band ; 
 
 Nor Capua’s rival might; nor rapid Spartacus ; 
 
 Nor Switzer faithless to repeated oaths ; 
 
 Nor fierce Germania with her blue-eyed youth subdue ; 
 
 Nor Hannibal detested by our sires. 
 
 Oh impious age ! Blood-stained, ourselves do we destroy, 
 Wild beasts shall seize upon this land again. 
 
 Alas ! a barb’rous victor on its ashes stands. 
 
 The City rings with courser’s sounding hoofs. 
 
 And bones of Romulus, yet free from wind and sun, 
 (Unlawful to behold !) he, scornful, spreads ! 
 
 Perchance ye all, or better part, may long to know 
 How best these awful troubles to escape ? 
 
 Than this advice none better. As the citizens 
 Of Phocis fled with execrations deep. 
 
 And left their lands, their country’s Lares, and their fanes. 
 By boars and rav’ning wolves to be possessed ; 
 
 
 
 
 20 
 
ODES OF HORACE. ) 
 
 Where’er our feet may bear us let us go ! Where call ! 
 
 South wind or stormy South-west thro’ the waves. j 
 
 Does this then please you ? Or who better counsel gives ? | 
 
 To sail with prosp’rous omen, why delay? | 
 
 But first swear thus :—“So soon as stones shall upward float ? 
 
 “ From ocean’s depths, ’tis lawful to return ; \ 
 
 “ Nor homeward then to spread our sails may we regret, | 
 
 “ When Po shall lave Matinus’ lofty peaks, s 
 
 “ Or the huge Apenninc shall rush down to the sea ; 
 
 “ When monstrous beasts a new-born love unites ; 
 
 “ When tigers shall delight with timid hinds to mate ; 
 
 “ And by the kite the dove polluted be : 
 
 “ WTen simple deer no more rapacious lions fear, 
 
 “ And goats, grown smooth, the briny waters love.” 
 
 These, and whatever vows our sweet return can bar, j 
 
 < 
 
 Let us, and all the city, haste away ; | 
 
 Or those superior to the thoughtless mob. Let sloth | 
 
 And hopelessness ill-omen’d couches press. < 
 
 Ye, who have valour still, laments effeminate ; 
 
 ( 
 
 .Suppress, and fly beyond th’ Etruscan shores. I 
 
 Us ocean tossing round awaits. Seek we the lands,— ! 
 
 The happy lands, and islands of the blest, ; 
 
 Where every year the soil untillcd produces corn, ; 
 
 And unpruned vineyards blossom still for aye ; 
 
 Where still the branch of never-failing olive blooms. 
 
 And russet fig her native tree adorns. 
 
 Where honey oozes from the hollow oak. Where leap 
 The streams from lofty hills with murm’ring flow. 
 
 There to the milk-pails the she-goats unbidden come. 
 
 And friendly herds return with swoll’n teats. 
 
 
 
 ^ N 
 
 206 
 
THE EPODES. 
 
 Nor does the nightly bear around the sheep-folds growl, 
 Nor do the hills with deadly vipers swarm. 
 
 Happy, much more shall we admire ! How nor the fields 
 With heavy showers the rainy East-wind lays, 
 
 Nor in the sun-scorch’d soil are fruitful seeds burnt up. 
 
 For both are tempered by the King of Heaven. 
 
 Not hither did the ship with Argive rowing steer, 
 
 Nor did the wanton Colchian set her foot ; 
 
 Not hither did Sidonian sailors turn their beaks. 
 
 Nor of Ulysses the laborious crew. 
 
 By no contagions are the fiocks destroyed. The herds 
 By blazing fury of no star are scorched : 
 
 But for a pious race this shore did Jove design. 
 
 When he debased the Golden Age with brass,— 
 
 With brass, then hardened it with steel, whence prosp’rous 
 flight 
 
 Unto the good is given ;—thus I foretell. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
N 0 T E S. 
 
 BOOK I . 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 “Late may’st thou to the Gods arise.’* 
 
 Observe the suddenness of the transition. The poet has invoked 
 all the Gods who were believed to take a special interest in the Roman 
 race. He now suddenly invokes Augustus as a God himself, descended 
 from the heavens to restore the prosperity of Rome, and even now a 
 fitting object of worship on the part of a grateful people. Courtly 
 adulation could hardly reach a further limit. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 “ With scents bedewed, what silly boy.” 
 
 Milton translates “ gracilis,” “ slender — its usual signification. 
 I have ventured to differ with him and other translators in rendering 
 this word “ silly.” I cannot help thinking that the poet meant to refer 
 to the slenderness of the infatuated youth’s mind, rather than to that 
 of his body. And the other epithets applied to him in the ode, 
 strengthen me in this opinion. He is called “insolens,” “ credulus,” 
 and “ nescius,” all meant to denote his lack of ordinary wisdom and 
 foresight. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 “ Fierce in appearance, but with close-pared nails.” 
 
 “ Scctis unguibus” might be rendered, “with sharpened nails;” 
 in which case the girls, whose battles the poet relates, might have been 
 really formidable antagonists. I have preferred the rendering in my 
 text, because it seems to me that the object is to accentuate the contrast 
 between the battles of heroes, of which Varius sings, and the mimic 
 warfare which alone Horace represents himself as capable of recording. 
 
 O D E V I I . 
 
 “ Let others sing of sunny Rhodes.” 
 
 I have translated “ clarus ” here as “ sunny,” rather than as 
 “ famous,” or “ renowned.” Either rendering is correct, but my reason 
 for preferring the former is, that in the same verse, the scenic rather 
 than the historical features of C’orinth are referred to, whilst the mere 
 mention of Thessalian Tempe conjures up a vision of natural beauty. 
 The poet then proceeds to compare the rushing stream, the waving 
 orchards, and the shady groves of his beloved Tivoli with the most 
 celebrated places in other countries. 
 
 ODE XI. 
 
 “ Consult not thou the Babylonian seer.” 
 
 Literally “ the Babylonian numbers.” I have ventured to take 
 this liberty with the text. Doubtless Leuconoe might have tried to tell 
 her own fortune, but more probably she would have consulted some 
 “ wise man ” or “ wise woman.” 
 
 I have been obliged to expand this ode from two stanzas to three, 
 as I could not compress its pregnant sense into less space. 
 
 2.10 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE XII, 
 
 “ Oh Clio ! whom of heroes or of men.” 
 
 It would have been very easy to have cast this ode in rythmic 
 form, but I could not do it to my satisfaction. Nothing can exceed the 
 simple dignity of its diction, and to have departed from the poet’s own 
 language would, in my opinion, have been to destroy all the severe 
 beauty of the ode. It has but one fault, and that is its ending. I can 
 only conclude that the weakness of the closing lines arises from the 
 fact that the poet had become exhausted by a mighty and sustained 
 effort. 
 
 ODE XIII. 
 
 “ Quintessence of her charms.” 
 
 The literal rendering would have been, “ the fifth part ” whilst 
 the word I have used may be taken to mean charms five times distilled. 
 I do not think, however, my rendering does violence to the Poet’s 
 meaning. He certainly intends to express intense admiration of his 
 mistress’ beauty. 
 
 ODE XV. 
 
 “ And songs recite dear to each tender maid 
 “ To harp unwarlike.” 
 
 I am inclined to think that “divides’ might have been better 
 translated, “ accompany ; ”—“ You accompany your effeminate songs 
 with the unwarlike harp.” The idea would then be that the strains of 
 the instrument filled up the pauses in the song, and so “ divided ” the 
 notes uttered by the voice. 
 
 2 l T 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE XVII. 
 
 “ For fair Lucretilis doth Faunus swift 
 “ Lycaeus oft desert.” 
 
 This sentence reads the other way, and speaks of Faunus 
 changing Lucretilis for Lycaeus. I think, however, I have given the 
 true meaning of the Poet. There are other instances in which he seems 
 to say just the opposite to what he means. Thus:—“ Who first attuned 
 to Grecian measures Latin song.” (Book III, Ode 30). This sentence 
 reads the reverse in the original, but there can be no doubt that I have 
 given the rendering intended. Again : - “ Should change Calabria’s 
 burning star for mild Lucania’s verdant fields.” (Epode 1 .) Surely the 
 Poet did not intend to represent it as an advantage that his flocks 
 should be driven in midsummer from the shady slopes of Lucania to the 
 parched plains of Calabria. 
 
 ” The he-goat’s wand’ring wives.” 
 
 The scholar will forgive the softening of a translation in this and 
 several other instances to which I need not more particularly refer, in a 
 work intended for general readers. 
 
 ODE XX. 
 
 “ Poor Sabine wine from goblets small.” 
 
 I am reminded of Mr. Bernal Osborne’s playful rendering of this 
 passage, when the proposition was first introduced by the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer to reduce the duty on French wines to one shilling per 
 gallon •,— 
 
 '• You shall drink thin French claret, and very little of it. ” 
 
 ODE XXI. 
 
 This Ode would seem to be a direction to the chorus of youths 
 and maidens by whom the Saecular Hymn was to be sung, as to the 
 mode in which their service was to be conducted. 
 

 NOT^S. 
 
 ODE XXIV. 
 
 ‘‘ Sleeps then Quinctilius in eternal death ? ” 
 
 Nothing can bring more vividly before us the hopelessness of a 
 pagan’s death than this Ode. Nothing can give stronger point to the 
 words of St. Paul;—“ If in this life only we have hope in Chuist, we are 
 of all men most miserable.” (i Cor., xv, 19). Modesty, Faith, Justice, 
 Truth ; and, probably, in the dear friend of two such men as Virgil and 
 Horace, Intellect and Poetic Genius, had all combined in the accom¬ 
 plished youth whose death is here deplored. Yet the Poet can picture 
 no hope, no happiness for him beyond the grave. He is driven by the 
 relentless God, amid a despairing throng of nameless dead, to the 
 gloomy realms of everlasting night. 
 
 ODE XXV. 
 
 I was very loath to omit anything in the writings of Horace that 
 I could help. I have therefore given what I could of this ode, softening 
 as much as I could render, and omitting what I could not soften. 
 
 ODE XXVIII. 
 
 “ Pythagoras sent back to shades below 
 “ Orcus contains, altho’ Euphorbus’ shield 
 Retaken, Troy recalled.” 
 
 The literal translation is ; — “ Tartarus holds the son of Panthus, 
 again sent back to Hades, although the shield taken down bore witness 
 of Trojan times.” This seemed to me somewhat obscure, and I have 
 therefore ventured to give the free rendering in the text. Pythagoras, 
 as is well known, taught the doctrine of the transmigration of souls, 
 and asserted that he himself was animated by that of Euphorbus, the 
 son of Panthus, a Trojan Prince. In proof of his assertion, he entered 
 the temple of Juno at Mycenae, (where he had never been before), and 
 going straight to the shrine, took down the shield of Euphorbus from 
 amongst numerous other trophies which adorned its walls. 
 

 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ODE XXXIV. 
 
 “ For the God-Father, who oft-times divides 
 “ With flashing fire the clouds, thro’ clear sky now 
 “ llis thund’ring coursers and swift chariot guides.” 
 
 The poet describes his own conversion from the Epicurean school 
 of philosophy, through having witnessed the phenomenon of thunder 
 and lightning in a cloudless sky. I fear his conversion was almost 
 as short-lived as the flash and roar which frightened him for the 
 moment. Compare — 
 
 “ From dense dark clouds reared mass o’er mass sublime 
 “ Spring then those missile fires. In sky serene 
 “ Such ne’er we mark.” 
 
 ODE XXXVI. 
 
 “ Safe returned from distant Spain.” 
 
 By Hesperia is usually meant Italy, as in Book II., Ode i.; 
 Book III., Ode 6. To the Greeks, Italy was Hesperia,—“the land of 
 the West.” To the Romans, Spain occupied that position, being called 
 as in the text, “Hesperia ultima;”—“the far West.” Orelli thus 
 explains the Poet’s meaning in the present Ode;—“ Hispania, ultima 
 Occidentem versus regio.” 
 
 O 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 ODE I . 
 
 “And of its chieftains’ compact stern.” 
 
 An allusion to the compact made between Octavius, Marc 
 Antony, and Lepidus, on the formation of the second triumvirate, when 
 
NOTES. 
 
 each sacrificed some of his best and dearest friends to the hatred of the 
 others. The cruel bargain is shortly described by Shakespeare : — 
 
 Antony. — “These many then shall die ; their names are prick’d.” 
 
 Octavius .—“ Your brother too must die. Consent you, Lepidus?” 
 
 Lepidus .— “ I do consent.” 
 
 Octavius. — “ Prick him down, Antony.” 
 
 Lepidus .— “ Upon condition Publius shall not live, who is your 
 sister’s son, Marc Antony.” 
 
 Antony .— “ He shall not live. Look, with a spot I damn him.” 
 
 ^ul. Cacs., Act iv., Sc. I. 
 
 “ Your tragic studies now awhile abate.” 
 
 The reader will notice that the whole of this stanza is freely 
 translated. A close translation would hardly have conveyed its true 
 meaning, paradoxical as that may seem. 
 
 ODE III. 
 
 “ Sooner or later by the boat.” 
 
 Literally:—“Embarked on board the boat for eternal exile.” 
 The dead were supposed to be ferried across the Styx to the Kingdom 
 of Pluto by Charon. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 “ Than fading Pholoe.” 
 
 “ Fugax ” is here generally translated “ coy,” or “shy.” I prefer 
 the rendering I have given, because I think that Horace meant to 
 contrast the fresh young beauty of Lalage with the over-ripe charms of 
 Pholoe and Chloris, who had probably already, in his opinion, reigned 
 too long as queens of love. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 “ Pompey, thou dearest of my friends.” 
 
 The person here addressed is Pompeius Varus, a friend of the 
 poet’s, who had served with him in the army of Brutus and Cassius. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 *• Your land, your home, your well-beloved wife.” 
 
 The oft-quoted expression “ placens uxor,” though strictly 
 meaning only “pleasing wife,” seemed to me to require a stronger 
 rendering to convey the intensity, so to speak, which the epithet derives 
 from the Latin. 
 
 ODE XVI. 
 
 “ What exile from himself can fly ? ” 
 
 There is a whole poem in this short sentence. Byron could not 
 improve, though he amplifies the thought. He uses the very words of 
 Horace in the lines :— 
 
 “ What exile from, himself can flee 
 “To Zones tho’ more and more remote ? 
 
 “ Still, still, pursues where’er I be, 
 
 “The blight of life—the demon Thought! 
 
 Cliilde Harold, Canto 1 ., To Inez. 
 
 ODE XVIII. 
 
 “ In Sabine farm content remain.’’ 
 
 I believe “satis” is now generally rendered in this passage as 
 the participle of “ sero; ” and would therefore mean, “that which is 
 sown,” i.e., a farm. So Virgil;— 
 
 “ Dabit file ruinas 
 
 “ Arboribus, stragemque satis.” Aencid xii., 454. 
 
 “ It (the storm) will bring ruin to the trees and destruction to the crops.” 
 
NOTES. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 ODE I . 
 
 “ I hate and drive from me the crowd profane.” 
 
 This glorious ode would seem to have been written as an intro¬ 
 duction to the Saecular Hymn. 
 
 “ Nor unproductive soil.” 
 
 “Fundus mendax,” literally “lying soil;” that soil in which 
 the ripening fruit does not fulfil the promise of the plentiful blossoms. 
 This stanza I found difficult to render to my satisfaction. I have taken 
 it in the sense that the contented man so remains, notwithstanding the 
 failure of his fruit-crop, for which both soil and tree offer a series of 
 lame excuses. 
 
 ODE II. 
 
 “ Pursues.” 
 
 “ The coward Death 
 
 Compare Shakspeare Cowards die many times before their 
 deaths.” Jul. Cues. Act ii.. Sc. 2. 
 
 “ I refuse 
 
 “ The man who rites of Ceres dread 
 “ Dares to divulge, my house to use.” 
 
 My Masonic brethren will see in these lines a reference to those 
 ancient mysteries, derived from Egypt and Eleusis, which they claim as 
 the origin of their own mystic rites. 
 

 
 NOTES. 
 
 ODE III 
 
 ‘ ‘ And hated grandson who was born 
 “ Of Trojan priestess.” 
 
 Romulus, being the son of Mars, was the grandson of Juno. 
 His mother, Rhea Silvia, was of course of Trojan descent. Hence 
 Juno at first bears against him the same inveterate hostility which she 
 had ever shewn against the whole Trojan race. She forgives him, 
 however, because he has not attempted to restore the ruins of detested 
 Troy, but has founded a new and mightier empire in far distant Italy. 
 At length, therefore, she consents to his taking his place amongst the 
 immortal Gods under the name of Quirinus. 
 
 ODE IV. 
 
 “ Nor routed host at Philippi, 
 
 “ Nor tree accurst, nor sad mischance 
 ” Of Palinurus injured me.” 
 
 Horace, having referred to his miraculous escape from death 
 when, as a child, he had strayed far from home and fallen asleep on the 
 lofty height of Vultur, here enumerates the three great perils through 
 which his otherwise peaceful life had passed. First, the battle of Philippi, 
 from which his constitutional timidity had caused him to 11}% “ relicta 
 non bene parmula.” This episode is related in the Ode to Pompey 
 (Book IT, Ode 7). Secondly, the plane tree which nearly fell upon him 
 whilst sitting or walking in his own grounds, to which he frequently 
 refers and roundly abuses in the Ode to a Tree (Book II , Ode i3'>. 
 And lastly, his having fallen overboard whilst on a voyage, referred to 
 in Archytas (Book I., Ode 28). This accident befel the poet in the Gulf 
 of Velia, when accompanying the expedition against Sextus Pompey. 
 
 “ The burning sands of Syria’s shore.” 
 
 Assyria was an inland country. Probably the exigencies of the 
 metre led the poet to use the word. He must liavejmeant Syria. 
 
 218 
 
 1 
 

 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 ODE V. 
 
 “ Have Crassus’ soldiers lived with barb’rous mates ? ” 
 
 An allusion to the defeat and capture of the army of Crassus by 
 the Parthians, under Monaeses or Surenas, at the battle of Carrhae. 
 The remnant of this army was settled as a small colony in the country of 
 their conquerors. This defeat is also referred to in the next Ode, 
 —“ Twice have Monaeses,” &c. 
 
 “ 'I'his our home 
 
 “ From daimer free.” 
 
 O 
 
 Incolumi Jove.” The name of the king of heaven is not 
 unfrequently used by poets to signify the expanse of heaven itself. 
 Thus :—“ sub Jove frigido,” “ under the frosty sky ” (Book I., Ode I). 
 Again, “ Positas ut glaciet nives puro numine Jupiter ; ” “ How^ Jupiter 
 shines on the fallen snows wdth his pure influence” (Book III., 
 Ode lo). And again, “ Nostro Jovi; ” “ to our own sky ” (Book IV., 
 Ode 15). “ Jupiter pluvius ” is a more trite illustration. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 “ Their former scanty honours to enlarge.” 
 
 “ Torquibus exiguis. ” Literally, “ to their scanty torques.” An 
 allusion to the thin twisted collars of gold or other precious metal worn 
 by savage chieftains, a custom which prevailed with the ancient Britons 
 amongst others. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 “ To ope thine house at night’s approach refrain.” 
 
 Shakspeare must surely have read Horace. He gives us not 
 merely the same thought, but almost the very words in the followdng 
 passage :— 
 

 NOTliS. 
 
 “ Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum 
 “ And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, 
 
 “ Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
 
 “Nor thrust your head into the public street.” 
 
 Merchant of Venice, Act ii.. Sc. 5. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 
 “ The pitch-held cork.” 
 
 The wine-jars were sealed with rosin or pitch, and the maturity 
 of the wine was hastened by hanging up the jars over a smoky fire 
 See the description of the feast of Glaucus, in the late Lord Lytton’s 
 “ Last Days of Pompeii ” (Chap. 3). 
 
 ODE X. 
 
 “ Think how the rope may slip upon the wheel 
 “ And backward run.” 
 
 This figure would seem to be taken from the draw-well. The 
 rope to which the bucket or vessel was attached passed over a grooved 
 wheel, by turning which the vessel was raised or lowered. 
 
 ODE XI. 
 
 “ One of the many, splendidly untrue, ’ 
 
 Hypermnestra. Does a forgetful world need reminding of the 
 name of her who was “ splendide mendax ? ” 
 
 220 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE XIV. 
 
 “ Maids too young to wed.” 
 
 I have of course followed Dr. Milman’s reading of this passage, 
 which is “ Puellae non virum expertae.” “ Girls having no experience 
 of husbands.'’ Conington says, “ Damsels newly wed.” But I 
 presume he takes Orelli’s reading, which is, ” Puellae jam virum 
 expertae.” Other readings have ” expertes,” deriving the word from 
 “ expers,” instead of from ” expertus.” In either case I think the meaning 
 is this. The poet has called on the wife and sister of the Emperor, and 
 upon the mothers, whose anxieties have been ended by the safe return of 
 their dear ones from the Spanish war, to offer their grateful prayers and 
 sacrifices to the Gods. He then turns to the young and thoughtless, 
 who have not yet learnt what care is, and exhorts them not to mar the 
 solemn occasion by ill-timed merriment. 
 
 ” And wine coeval with the Marsian war.” 
 
 The Marsian or Social War broke out in the year B.C. 91; the 
 return of Augustus from his Spanish Expedition took place B.C. 23. 
 The wine which the poet proposes to drink to the honour of his 
 imperial friend must therefore have been 68 years old. 
 
 ODE XXVII. 
 
 “ Does a phantom me 
 
 “ Deceive which, flying from the iv’ry gate, 
 
 • ‘ Comes in my sleep ? ” 
 
 “ Sunt geminae Somni portae : quarum altera fertur 
 
 “ Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris ; 
 
 ‘ ‘ Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto ; 
 
 ” Sed falsa ad coelum mittunt insomnia manes.” 
 
 Virgil, Aeneid vi, 894-7. 
 
 “There are twin gates of Sleep; of which the one is said to be 
 of horn, by which easy exit is given to true shadows : the other, shining 
 beauteous with white ivory, but the spirits send (through it) false dreams 
 to the upper air.” 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE XXVIII. 
 
 “ Nereids’ locks with sea-weed girt.” 
 
 “ Virides comas ; ”—literally “ green tresses,” I give the poet’s 
 meaning rather than his words. 
 
 ODE XXIX. 
 
 Of him who did Ulysses kill.” 
 
 Literally, “Of Telegonus the parricide.” I found the name of 
 this son of Ulysses, who slew his father, too obdurate for my metre, so 
 I paraphrased the sentence, I cannot bear to clip a proper name, as 
 Telegon’, Thaliarch’, Merion’, &c. 
 
 ODE XXX. 
 
 I am afraid to say how many times I have arranged and 
 re-arranged the rendering of this exquisite Ode. I fear I could never 
 do it to my satisfaction. It was as difficult as writing a proposal to 
 one’s lady-love. You tear up your efforts dozens of times, and at last, 
 in desperation, dash off something which you regard with abhorrence 
 when it has left your hand. 
 
 “Who first attuned 
 “ To Grecian measures Latin song.” 
 
 See Note to the 17th Ode of Book 11 . 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 ODE VI. 
 
 This Ode, with the exception of the last stanza, is probably a 
 portion of the Saccular Hymn. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ODE VII. 
 
 1 have yielded to the temptation to translate this Ode somewhat 
 freely. What the Latin poet could indicate by a word, requires a 
 sentence of mine to render. 
 
 ODE VIII. 
 
 I make no attempt to explain the lacuna in the fifth stanza. 
 For this the reader can consult the commentators. To me, however, 
 it seems of small consequence to speculate now whether the Poet 
 purposely made an omission ; or whether the hand of death seized 
 him ere he had completed his work; or whether two lines have been 
 lost; or whether there is no omission at all. We have the Ode as it 
 stands, and certainly there seems no break in the continuity of the 
 sentence. 
 
 O D E X I I I. 
 
 We cannot commend the taste of the Poet in writing this Ode. 
 It reminds one too much of his youthful style in some of the Epodes. 
 But it is a good illustration of the well-grounded assertion that there 
 was no sentiment in the love of the ancients for the fair sex. Their 
 passion was merely sensual. It remained for the Knight and 
 Troubadour of the age of Chivalry to elevate woman to the position of 
 a divinity. 
 
 O 1 ) h: X 1 V. 
 
 “ As bull-shaped Aufidus rolls on.’’ 
 
 This translation is literal ; but I think the Poet means to 
 compare the headlong torrent of Aufidus, when swollen by rain, witli 
 the mad rush of an infuriated bull. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 THE SAECULAB HYMN, 
 
 I have allowed myself greater latitude in the translation of this 
 than in that of any other ode. My rendering may certainly be called a 
 free one. Still, like the fly in amber, I think it is all there ; and though 
 amplified, is not, I trust, quite spoilt. Having been one of my earliest 
 translations, I have an affection for it, and could not resist printing it in 
 this book, although my love for it may perhaps be compared with a 
 mother’s well-known partiality for her deformed child. That the reader 
 may compare my idea of a literal translation with the rendering given 
 in the text, I append here the four opening stanzas in literal form. 
 
 Phoebus and Dian, o’er the grove 
 Who rule, bright glory of the sky, 
 
 Worshipp’d by all and whom all love, 
 
 Oh grant our prayer this sacred day. 
 
 On which the verses Sibylline 
 
 Teach chosen maids and virgin boys 
 To you to raise the hymnal strain. 
 
 Who in the seven hills rejoice ! 
 
 Bright sun ! who in thy car of flame 
 Dost both reveal and hide the dayq 
 Rising another yet the same, 
 
 Than Rome no mightier may’st thou see ! 
 
 Ilithyia ! kind to mothers’ pain. 
 
 Our matrons guard, or by the name 
 Lucina to be called thou’rt fain. 
 
 Or Genitalis, still the same. 
 
 “ The fast revolving years.” 
 
 A literal translation would be, “ the period of no years” 
 Stanza 6). And so again I have substituted “ who guard the volumes 
 Sibylline,” for “ the Fifteen men’’{Quindecemviri, Stanza i8). I found 
 myself unable to extract poetry out of figures. 
 
 < V/VX ^s/" 
 
 
 224 
 
NOTES. 
 
 THE EPOHES. 
 
 E P O D E I . 
 
 “ Should change Calabria’s burning star 
 “ For mild Lucania’s verdant fields.” 
 See note to the 17th Ode of Bcok I. 
 
 E P O D E II. 
 
 I have endeavoured to give an absolutely literal translation of this 
 Epode, line for line, and almost word for word. 
 
 “ Or he surveys the herds of lowing kine 
 “ Straying in vale remote.” 
 
 These lines seem to me to be out of their place. I think they 
 should properly change place with the two which follow them in the 
 text, I have, however, followed the authority whose text I use; and I 
 find, moreover, that Orelli-is of the same opinion as Dr. Milman. He 
 says, “Non sine arte primum memorat vitium culturam, deinde otium 
 domini suos greges per sinuosam convallem sparsos cum laetitia con- 
 templantis, turn rursus gratum putationis et insitionis opus, quod 
 quidem in mensem Martium incidebat, cum maritatio fieret mense 
 Octobri ; sic naturam ipsam secutus perpetuam ac propter hoc ipsum 
 jucundam vitae rusticae varietatem pingit.” 
 
 EPODE IV. 
 
 This Epode is only given as an instance of the coarser style of 
 Horace. Some are quite untranslateable and could not be presented to 
 polite readers. This one, however, though certainly coarse, is not 
 indecent. 
 
 P 
 
 225 
 
NOTES. 
 
 “ In foremost place he sits, despite 
 “ Of Otho’s law.” 
 
 The law of L. Roscius Otho (A.U.C. 687), apportioned fourteen 
 rows of seats in the theatre to such spectators as were of equestrian 
 rank. A Military Tribune ranked with the Equites. Hence Menas, 
 though slave-born, had become entitled by his office to sit with the 
 knights. Horace is indignant at his effrontery in thrusting himself into 
 the very front row. 
 
 E P O D h: XV. 
 
 “ To thee Pythagoras’ immortal lore be known ” 
 
 Literally:—“Nor do the secrets of Pythagoras, born again, 
 escape thee.” 
 
 E P O D E XVI. 
 
 “Alas ! a barb’rous victor on its ashes stands, 
 
 “/Fhe City rings with courser’s sounding hoofs, 
 
 “ And bones of Romulus, still free from wind and sun 
 “ (Unlawful to behold!) he scornful spreads.’’ 
 
 Compare Byron: — 
 
 “ The rifled urn, the violated mound, 
 
 “ The dust thy courser’s hoof, rude stranger, spurns around.” 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto II., 90. 
 
 226 
 
CHESTER 
 
 PHILLIPSON AND COLDER, PRINTERS, BASTGATE ROW. 
 

 
 
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