MASTER NEGA TIVE NO. 92-81153 MICROFILMED 1993 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the . » "Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library « COPYRIGHT STAT^EMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material. Under certain conditions specified in the law, libraries and archives are authorized to furnish a photocopy or other reproduction. One of these specified conditions is that the photocopy or other reproduction is not to be "used for any purpose other than private study, scholarship, or research.** If a user makes a request for, or later uses, a photocopy or reproduction for purposes in excess of *'fair use,'* that user may be liable for copyright infringement. This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: HORACE TITLE: HORACE: QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS PLACE* WOODSTOCK, VT. DA TE : 1908 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARGET Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record 87HJ I ^»s Works . Eng . Horatius Flaccus, Quintus. Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus ... the Roman poet presented to modern readers; ed. by Charles Loomis Dana and John Cotton Dana. Woodstock, Vt., The Kim tree press, 1908, liv, 150 p. front., plates, ports., map. ^SgCm. *'0f this book there have been printed for Charles Loomis Dana anc] John Cotton Dana five hundred copies, at the Kim tree press, iVood- stock, Verrront, in March, nineteen hundred and eirht. No. ?91." Restrictions on Use: FILM SIZE: 35 /vy-KV^ IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA (U^ I DATE FILMED: ^^ 3 FILMED BY: RESEARCH PUBLICATI TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA REDUCTION RATIO: L/.X [nh^. INITIALS ^f. ATIONS.INC WOODBRIDGE. CT c Association for Information and Image IManagement 1100 Wayne Avenue, Suite 1100 Silver Spring, Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 12 3 4 5 6 5 rrrrx m 8 9 10 iiliiiiliiiiliii 11 12 13 14 15 mm iiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiil T I I 1 Inches 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.5 la i" 2.2 I&3 2.0 1^ u 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^> MflNUFfiCTURED TO fillM STflNDflRDS BY RPPLIED IMRGE, INC. INDEX THE ODES. BOOK I Ode No. I Page 59 Ode No. 3 61 3 63 4 105 5 91 6 63 7 107 8 92 8 93 9 109 9 111 11 95 11 96 14 65 17 66 18 Page 1 1 2 22 67 23 94 23 ,94 24 68 25 97 27 113 27 114 30 98 31 70 32 71 34 72 38 74 38 74 Ode No. 2 3 7 10 Ode No. 1 1 2 THE ODES. BOOK II Page 35 Ode No. 14 33 16 75 17 37 18 THE ODES. BOOK III Page 43 Ode No. 3 46 3 3 4 Page Page 39 41 76 78 4 8 46 / r 150 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Ode No. 5 6 9 13 13 18 Page 8 II 98 80 81 82 Ode No. 19 24 25 29 30 Ode No. 2 3 4 THE ODES. BOOK IV Page 1 5 Ode No. 7 84 II 18 THE SECULAR HYMN Epode No. 2 2 13 Satire No. 9 Satire No. 3 THE EPODES Page 1 20 Epode No. 1 4 122 16 125 SATIRES. BOOK I Page 141 SATIRES, BOOK II Page 133 Satire No. 6 Page 1 1 5 13 117 50 83 Page 1 1 8 100 Page 25 Page 86 23 Page 1 34 EPISTLES. BOOK 1 Epistle No. 7 Page 137 Epistle No. 10 Page 147 7 140 EPISTLES. BOOK II Epistle No. 2 Page 1 3 1 Epistle No. 2 Page I 32 jr- <(\ ' .•/. II < Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus "Crescam laude recens >> The Roman Poet Presented to Modern Readers Edited by Charles Loomis Dana and John Cotton Dana PORTRAIT OF HORACE From a Painting in Vf.nosa The Elm Tree Press, Woodstock, Vt. 1908 t ! ■ \ PORTRAIT OF HORACE From a Painting in Venosa Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus "Crescam laude recens" The Roman Poet Presented to Modern Readers Edited by Charles Loomis Dana and John Cotton Dana The Elm Tree Press, Woodstock, Vt. 1908 Copyright, The Elm Tree Press, 1 908 Published March 25, 1908 CONTENTS U ^ I Of this book there have been printed for Charles Loomis Dana and John Cotton Dana five hundred copies, at The Elm Tree Press, Woodstock, Vermont, in March, nineteen hundred and eight. No.^'^i- X' cop. ^ INTRODUCTION POEM, "TOQ.H.F." THE LIFE OF HORACE THE EDUCATION OF HORACE AS DESCRIBED BY HIMSELF HORACE'S MISTRESSES. SO-CALLED HORACE'S FRIENDS HORACE'S DEITIES THE GEOGRAPHY OF HORACE THE ADMONITIONS OF HORACE. A MOSAIC OF HIS SAYINGS POEMS OF PATRIOTISM To his Friends : Urging the Roman Youth to Virtue Ode III. 2 DeVere The Speech of Juno Ode III. 3 DeVere Part of the same, another Version Ode III. 3 Byron To Augustus Ode III, 5 DeVere To the Romans Ode III. 6 DeVere Against the Turbulence and Degeneracy of the People Ode III, 24 DeVere To Julus Antonius : In Praise of Pindar Ode IV. 2 DeVere In Praise of Drusus. Step-son of Augustus Ode IV. 4 Martin To the Roman People : The Blessed Isles Epode XVI. DeVere THE SECULAR HYMN DeVere PAGE xi xix XX XXV xl xliii xlvi xlviii I 3 4 8 6 11 13 15 18 23 25 /) I n h \ vi Horace : Quintus Horaiius Flaccus MORALITIES, Poems somewhat Philosophical and Ethical To Dellius Ode II, 3 DeVere and Dryden 33 To Sallust Ode II, 2 Ordronaux 35 To Licinius Murena Ode II, 10 Cowper 37 To Postumus Ode II, 1 4 DeVere 39 To Grosphus Ode II, 16 Cowper 4 1 To Asinius Pollio Ode III, I DeVere 43 Passages from the Same, another Version Ode III, 1 Cowley 46 To Calliope Ode III, 4 DeVere 46 To Maecenas Ode III. 29 Dryden 50 POEMS MAINLY PERSONAL To Maecenas Ode I, 1 H. C. M. 59 To Virgil's Ship Ode I, 3 DeVere 61 Passages from the Same, another Version Ode I, 3 Dryden 63 Ode I, 6 Wakefield 63 Ode I, 1 4 R. M. Field 65 Ode I, 1 7 DeVere 66 Ode I, 22 Martin 67 Ode I, 24 Ordronaux 68 Contents vu To Agrippa To His Ship Invitation to Tyndaris To Aristius Fuscus To Virgil To Apollo : Horace's Prayer To His Lyre To Himself To his Valet The Same, paraphrased To Pompeius Varus To Maecenas To a Miser Ode I, 3 I DeVere Ode I, 32 Yardley Ode 1, 34 Mahoney Ode 1, 38 Coleridge Ode 1. 38 Thackeray Ode II, 7 Clark Ode II, I 7 Martin Ode II. 1 8 DeVere To the Fountain of Bandusia Ode III, 13 Dobson The Same, another Version Ode III, 1 3 E. Field To Faunus Ode III, 1 8 Clark Horace's Apostrophe to his own Fame Ode III. 30 Ordronaux 70 71 72 74 74 75 76 78 80 61 82 83 To Melpomene Ode IV, 3 Smart 84 To Maecenas Epode XIV, Way 86 LOVE SONGS AND ODES TO HIS MISTRESSES To Pynha Ode I. 5 DeVere 9 1 To Lydia Ode I, 8 Anon 92 The Same, another Version Ode 1, 8 Martin 93 To Chloe Ode I, 23 Dobson 94 The Same, Paraphrase, after Chaucer Ode I, 23 E. Field 94 To Leuconoe Ode I, I I Dobson 95 The Same, another Version Ode I, I I Anon 96 Horace upbraids Lydia Ode I, 25 Martin 97 To Venus, Queen of Cnidos Ode I, 30 Conington 98 Reconciliation with Lydia Ode III, 9 Roscommon 98 To Phyllis Ode IV. I 1 Clark 1 00 INVOCATIONS TO BACCHUS AND SONGS OF THE COUNTRY AND THE SEASONS. To Lucius Sestius Ode I, 4 R. M. Field 1 05 To M. Plancus Ode I, 7 Mahoney 107 To Thaliarchus Ode I, 9 Congreve 1 09 The Same, another Version Ode I. 9 H. C. M. Ill To Varus Ode I. 1 8 Mahoney 1 1 2 To His Companions ; The Carousal Ode I. 27 E. Field 113 The Same, another Version Ode I, 27 DeVere 1 14 To Telephus; Drinking Song Ode III, 19 Clark 1 15 To Bacchus Ode III. 25 DeVere 117 To Torquatus Ode IV, 7 S. Johnson 1 1 8 Alphius, a City Broker, praises a Country Life Epode II, Hawkins 1 20 The Same, another Version Epode II, Way 1 22 To His Friends ; A Drinking Song Epode XIII, Martin 125 HORACE'S STORIES Horace's stories : Note 1 3 1 vui Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus The Paranoiac Who did not Wish to be Cured Epist. II, 2 Davidson 1 3 1 The Soldier who was Brave only when he was Poor Epist. II, 2 Davidson 1 32 The Sick Miser and the Faithful Physician Sat. II. 3 Creech 133 The Country Mouse and the City Mouse Sat. II, 6 Martin I 34 Philip the Rich Lawyer and Vulteius the Poor Auctioneer Epist. I, 7 Martin 137 The Lean Field Mouse Epist. I, 7 Martin 1 40 Horace and the Bore Sat. I, 9 Howes 1 4 I The Stag and the Horse Epist. I, 10 Martin 147 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Head of Horace, from statue in Venosa Head of Horace, from antique gem Portrait of Horace Portrait of Horace by Raphael Piazza Orazio in Venosa Venosa Birthplace of Horace The Dinner of Nasidienus Statue of Antonius Musa Horace and His Friends Map of Italy in time of Augustus Horace's World The Oculist Augustus Time Alters All Things Virtue Excess The Dropsy Mount Vulture Maecenas Statue of Horace Pallida Mors The Circling Hour Beatus ille The Faithful Physician The Sacred Way Map of the Sacred Way Outside front cover Bookplotc Frontispiece Facing page xi xviii XX xxii xxiv xliv xlviii xlix lii 8 12 14 32 36 46 58 72 106 118 124 132 142 146 I I PORTRAIT OF HORACE BY RAPHAEL Detail from the Parnassus INTRODUCTION It may seem that the last word has been said about Horace ; that criticisms, appreciations and translations have been issued until the capacity to interpret the poet in any new way is ex- hausted. We have ventured, however, to assume that this is not the case. For, after all, books about Horace and editions of his works have been largely for school-boys or the learned. The collected and selected translations are in great part of ancient date ; while the best translations of Horace have been made in quite recent years. But aside from this, we are trying to present the Latin poet in a somewhat different manner from that which has heretofore been followed. Most of the translations of Horace contain only his Odes, whereas his most human and interesting work is in his Epistles and Satires ; and we have drawn quite largely upon this portion of his writings. The translations of the Odes have usually been complete, that is to say, they have included every poem. This is very proper ; but the resulting books do not make attractive reading and not always good literature ; for some of Horace's Odes are on trivial themes, or concern men and things that do not in the least interest us now. Their merit lies entirely in their form, in the author's art ; to transfer this form to another lan- guage is quite impossible. We have selected, therefore, only about half of the Odes, and have tried to choose those which are on themes of general interest, or which show especially Horace's fine poetic skill, his descriptive power, his poetic fervor, his endless ingenuity in presenting his philosophy of life. We add. also, some of the songs to Venus and to certain fair young women of Rome. It is not easv to find pleasure in Horace without knowing 1 i "i PORTRAIT OF HORACE BY RAPHAEL Detail from the Parnassus INTRODUCTION It may seem that the last word has been said about Horace ; that criticisms, appreciations and translations have been issued until the capacity to interpret the poet in any new way is ex- hausted. We have ventured, however, to assume that this is not the case. For, after all, books about Horace and editions of his works have been largely for school-boys or the learned. The collected and selected translations are in great part of ancient date ; while the best translations of Horace have been made in quite recent years. But aside from this, we are trying to present the Latin poet in a somewhat different manner from that which has heretofore been followed. Most of the translations of Horace contain only his Odes, whereas his most human and interesting work is in his Epistles and Satires ; and we have drawn quite largely upon this portion of his writings. The translations of the Odes have usually been complete, that is to say, they have included every poem. This is very proper ; but the resulting books do not make attractive reading and not always good literature ; for some of Horace's Odes are on trivial themes, or concern men and things that do not in the least interest us now. Their merit lies entirely in their form, in the author's art ; to transfer this form to another lan- guage is quite impossible. We have selected, therefore, only about half of the Odes, and have tried to choose those which are on themes of general interest, or which show especially Horace's fine poetic skill, his descriptive power, his poetic fervor, his endless ingenuity in presenting his philosophy of life. We add, also, some of the songs to Venus and to certain fair young women of Rome. It is not easy to find pleasure in Horace without knowins; xU Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus something of his times, his mode of life, his friends, his love affairs and even of his religion. Horace wrote poetry during a period of over thirty years, from the time he was twenty-three until his death at fifty-seven ; (B. C. 42 to B. C. 8). He spent most of his life, it is true, very quietly at Rome or in the country near by. But for Rome herself these were stirring times. And he wrote poetry mainly upon occasions ; as called for by some slight event in his personal career or some more important event in the history of his country. He wrote to celebrate victories ; to stir his countrymen to higher ideals ; to praise his emperor and patrons ; to advise and cheer his friends ; to invite, extol or reproach his so-called mistresses. If one does not know something of these occasions and of the persons he refers to, many of the poems affect one but little more than does a sum in arithmetic. One can take the very best translations of the Odes, Mar- tin's or Conington's for example, or the best collection of trans- lations, and can read them through with but little feeling, simply because there is no atmosphere furnished for them. They stand out against no background of knowledge. The most important of emotional elements, recognition, is entirely lacking if one reads them without knowing Roman life in Horace's day. We have tried to furnish a little of this atmosphere. In some eighteenth century translations of Horace, those by Francis and Davidson for example, this same plan was attempted. Each Ode was introduced by a rather pompous description of its merits ; was followed by an analysis of the story, and sur- rounded by ample margins of notes and discussions. Davidson s translation, published in I 7 1 I , "for the use of students and gen- tlemen," is particularly interesting as a type of the eighteenth century method of presenting Horace. It is, indeed, so naive that we have prefixed parts of his comments to a few of the Odes. Later translators have also done a little of this work ; but most editions of Horace are accompanied with a repellent mass of grammatical and technical criticism. < en O z > N < o < N N < Xll Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus something of his limes, his mode of life, his friends, his love affairs and even of his religion. Horace wrote poetry during a period of over thirty years, from the time he was twenty-three until his death at fifty-seven ; (B. C. 42 to B. C. 8). He spent most of his life, it is true, very quietly at Rome or in the country near by. But for Rome herself these were stirring times. And he wrote poetry mainly upon occasions ; as called for by some slight event in his personal career or some more important event in the history of his country. He wrote to celebrate victories ; to stir his countrymen to higher ideals ; to praise his emperor and patrons ; to advise and cheer his friends ; to invite, extol or reproach his so-called mistresses. If one does not know something of these occasions and of the persons he refers to, many of the poems affect one but little more than does a sum in arithmetic. One can take the very best translations of the Odes, Mar- tin's or Conington's for example, or the best collection of trans- lations, and can read them through with but little feeling, simply because there is no atmosphere furnished for them. They stand out against no background of knowledge. The most important of emotional elements, recognition, is entirely lacking if one reads them without knowing Roman life in Horace's day. We have tried to furnish a little of this atmosphere. In some eighteenth century translations of Horace, those by Francis and Davidson for example, this same plan was attempted. Each Ode was introduced by a rather pompous description of its merits ; was followed by an analysis of the story, and sur- rounded by ample margins of notes and discussions. Davidson s translation, published in 1 7 1 1 , "for the use of students and gen- tlemen," is particularly interesting as a type of the eighteenth century method of presenting Horace. It is, indeed, so naive that we have prefixed parts of his comments to a few of the Odes. Later translators have also done a little of this work ; but most editions of Horace are accompanied with a repellent mass of grammatical and technical criticism. < CO O z > N < a: O N < iX Introduction xui We must leave our readers to judge whether we have suc- ceeded in helping to make them receptive to Horace's lyrics. We have a very firm conviction that no one man can translate all of Horace effectively. Each poem requires special study and a peculiar inspiration to give to its English rendering any of the art and spirit of the original. For the average reader, therefore, for one, that is, who is looking chiefly for the pleasure of poetry, a collection of translations by different writers is the best. One also gets in this way a touch of the genius of many of the best English poets, for a large number of them have tried their skill on Horace. Most of the older translations were stilted and lifeless or even silly. The collections of Brome and Hawkins and Francis con- tain very little poetry. The only successful translators among the earlier men were Milton, Cowley, Dryden and Jonson, and later Cowper, who translated, however, but few pieces. Cow- ley and Dryden turned Horace into good seventeenth century poetry; but their versions have little of the Roman flavor. Casual efforts have been made by such men as Barry Cornwall, Allan Ramsay, Addison, Pof>e, Samuel Johnson and Byron ; but none was often successful. The best translations have been made within the last half century, and, with due respect to such others as Howes, Con- ington and Clark, we place DeVere and Theodore Martin among the first. Indeed, a very satisfactory English version of all of Horace could be made from Martin and De Vere, a few casual writers, and a few of the earlier English poets. It is rather strange that America has contributed so little to the translation or appreciation of our poet. Dr. John Ordronaux has been by far the most successful, but his published work is small. We do not forget the ingenious and painstaking con- tributions of Clarence Cary or that of Mr. Sargent, or the " Echoes from the Sabine Farm " by the two Fields. In the eighteenth century translations without much merit were made by John Park and Rev. John Adams. Aside from these, the xiv Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus work of American translators has been little more than casual. While the Satires and Letters are the more humorous and interesting documents of Horace, much of them cannot be un- derstood without considerable knowledge of the times when they were written. We have taken only those parts, and they are not few, which contain accounts of Horace and his affairs, and we have for the first time made a collection of his stories. The Poems selected have been arranged in six groups. The first includes Poems of Patriotism and of Praises of his Emperor ; the second, Poems which may be called Moralities, as they por- tray his philosophy and his views on the conduct of life ; the the third. Poems largely Personal, including incidents in the Poet's life and that of his friends, the celebration of his own fame, his praise of the Muses and of his Lyre ; the fourth. Love Songs and Odes to his Mistresses; the fifth. Invocations to Bacchus and kindred poems ; the sixth. Stories. No attempt is made here to give an exposition of the genius of Horace ; and we do not profess erudition in Latin or in the technicalities of verse. Competent appreciations of the charac- ter and work of Horace are numerous and accessible, and Mar- tin is his greatest prophet. It is desirable, however, to empha- size the point that besides his lighter qualities Horace had a seriousness of purpose and a moral earnestness which, when he allowed them really to stir his poetic genius, caused him to write his noblest and most moving pieces. He was not simply a finished writer of songs ; he believed in his art and thought he was a consecrated Priest of the Muses. He wrote sometimes in a vein of eloquence and sublimity, and produced at least half a dozen Odes which ought to be classed among the finest pieces of antiquity. This view, that Horace's real genius lay in his longer and more serious pieces, is reluctantly admitted by Macleane and is particularly emphasized by De Vere. Few can read the Latin well enough to appreciate this phase of the poet, and unfortunately no translator until very recently appeared Introduction XV V. ^W who would make it clear to the English reader, though Dryden, Roscommon, Martin and a few others gave some glimpses of it. It is our conviction that a translator has appeared, however, who has done for Horace almost what Fitzgerald did for Omar Khayyam. He has taken the great Odes of the third book and put them into English poetry which is lofty, eloquent and inspir- ing. He has either caught the real Horatian fire or has from Horace's torch kindled as great a one in his own breetst. This translator, whose work we believe has not been justly appre- ciated, is the late Sir Stephen De Vere. Milton, Dryden, and Cowper did minor poems well; but DeVere took Horace's really great poems and gave of them noble English versions, versions which one can appreciate though one has little knowl- edge of their setting. We would claim the merit in this work of bringing the attention of the public to the striking poetic tal- ent of De Vere. It should put him with Horace among the poets of all time. Of him it can be said, *'Dis amicum, Reddidi carmen, docilis modorum Vatis Horati.** Expert in the measure of the poet Horace, ' He has sung a song pleasing to the gods. A feature of Horace's talent which has been emphasized by De Vere is his descriptive skill. No poem shows this perhaps as well as his famous " Beatus ille ", Epode II, one of the few Odes easy to read and appreciate in the original. A descrip- tive passage, in Ode II, 3, has proved to some that Horace was a real poet : " Where the high pine, and poplar silver-lined With branches interlaced have made A hospitable shade, ^ And where by curving bank and hollow bay The tremulous waters work their silent way." —DeVere. ^Illf r" xvi Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Of Horace's most famous characteristic, his "felicitas curi- osa, " his power to fit the aptest words to things, there is no need to speak. Many of his sayings have become parts of everyday speech. We have appended to the translations some of the happy phrases that occur in the Latin text. Many of his best things in this field are in the Letters and Satires. Prof. Conington thinks that Horace's writings have the quality of Eighteenth Century literature : thinness of thought and ele- gance of expression. From this we dissent. The Roman of the time of Augustus must have found him a writer of sweet songs, of noble hymns and of light and casual pieces, with an occasional coarse, vindictive note; of Letters which are clever and amusing ; of Satires and stories which entertained by their wit and wisdom and fine turns of expression ; and. on the whole, a laughing, goodnatured, unconventional philosopher, illuminat- ing everyday affairs with the poet's fire, occasionally rising to a pitch of fiery earnestness and eloquence. We do not know of any eighteenth century writer who at all approaches him in these fields and we feel sure that Horace's book is much more in touch with the twentieth century spirit than with that of one hundred and fifty years ago. We may not today care quite so much for literary form as they did in I 750 ; but the human quality and the practical philosophy, the lightness of touch, the so-called persiflage, and the fondness for looking at the humor- ous side of things, all belong to Horace, and all suit the present day. Even the Fields got more of an " Echo from the Sabme Farm " than did Pope, or Addison, or the pedants who con- tributed so much to Brome and Roscommon. Conington thinks the translator of Horace should first of all get as near as possible to his form of versification. Taking this point of view Conington has himself made translations that are correct and scholarly, but almost entirely spiritless and uninterest- ing, except to special students of Horace and of the art of poetic construction. • • i We have chosen translations which have dealt with the origmal Introduction xvu in all possible ways. The method used was, first, to select an Ode that has some special merit in subject or treatment ; then, to find a translation which seems interesting and vivid, and is. if fortune permits, genuine poetry. We have not disdained to use paraphrases or even parodies. Father Prout. Eugene Field. Mr. Way have made versions shocking to the purist ; but surely Horace would have liked them. He could be flippant himself at times ; and he did not like pedantry. He was exacting only about his art. We have tried to select translations which have the merit of saying things effectively, of having some value even if they are not precisely Roman. The sketch of the life of Horace which follows is based on a study of the medical side of Horace published in Volume II of the Charaka Club. It naturally therefore lays rather special emphasis on the valetudinarian phase of the poet's personality. The editors are indebted to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for permission to publish several translations by Eugene and Roswell Field from "Echoes from the Sabine Farm." We also must express our obligations to Mr. T. Rutherford Clark and Dr. John Ordronaux for permission to use some of their excel- lent translations. We wish we could learn the name of the writer who signs himself T. H. W. and give him credit for his most admirable work. We have used some of Conington's translations and many of DeVere's with the permission of George Bell & Sons, and many of Martin's with the permission of Blackwood & Sons. The illustrations of Venusium, the birthplace of Horace, have been furnished us by a local artist. Signor Gatti. who is respon- sible for the statement that we have a photograph of the house in which Horace was bom. This concludes our account of what we have tried to accom- plish in making this addition to the editions of the Latin poet. Horace has long been a most interesting figure in literature. It is our hope that we have so presented him that modem readers can understand his character and environment, and that xviii Horace : Quinlus Horalius Flaccus this edition will, even in this practical century, prove a pleasant companion to many vv^ho are jaded with the excitements of modernity. So, as Horace said to his owri book : "Fuge, quo descendere gestis. " Away with vou to the public you long for. C. L. D. New York, August, 1907. u > < z CO X a < < Q CO U o X u< O D ;d z bj > X H < CO O z > I*' xviii Horace : Quintus H or alius Flaccus this edition will, even in tliis practical century, prove a pleasant connpanion to many who are jaded with the excitements of modernity. So, as Horace said to his own book : "Fuge, quo descendere gestis." Away with vou to the public vou long for. C. L. 13. New York, August, 1907. mm u > mm < Z CO mm X Q Z < < Q CO U o X u. O D Z > X H < CO O z > Its i ! \^ ii II I iJ TO QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS. To Q. H. F. the idle band Of Poetasters oft has planned Tributes of praise, and penned them, too — For love of verse that keeps its hue, Though dead its language and its land. True, Pegasus has never fanned The ether at the bard's command ; But, ah ! how eagerly he flew ToQ. H. F! Not over-sweet or over-grand Your poems, Horace, hence you stand Firm in ihs hearts of men; and few Have gained a place as clearly due, Since death with unrelenting hand Took you, H. F. non. THE LIFE AND THE INVAIJDIS.M OF HOf^ACE The poet Horace was born, B. C. 65, at Venusium, a small town in eastern Italy near the Adriatic. The town still exists as the modern Venosa, and a statue of Horace adorns its market place. The inhabitants point out with pride the house in which the poet was born, and also show near by Mt. Vul- ture, on which he was lost when a boy. Tradition relates that, tired out from his wanderings, he fell asleep and that by direc- tion of the Muses the birds covered him with leaves and thus saved him from the wild beasts. Horace's father was a freedman, an auctioneer by occupa- tion. Being proud of his son and wishing to advance him in life he sent him to Rome to school. At the age of twenty Horace went to Athens for a university education. About this time Julius Caesar was assassinated and Horace joined the army gathered by Brutus and Cassius to fight against the triumvirate-friends of the dead Caesar. The army was defeated and their cause lost at the battle of Philippi. Returning to Rome, at the age of twenty-two, B. C. 43, Horace began to write his Satires and Epodes. He secured a clerkship under the government, gained the favor of Maecenas, became a popular poet, and led the merry life of the time. When about thirty Maecenas gave him a farm in the Sabine country, thirty miles from Rome and about twelve from Tibur, now Tivoli. He spent most of his time in this place and the city, occasionally going to the baths at Baiae, or visiting his friends in Praenestum, Tarentum and other suburban towns. Thus Horace lived uneventfully for about thirty years, writing ALLEGED BIRTHPLACE OF HORACE IN VENOSA «l 'ii THE LIFE AND THE INVALIDISM OF HORACE The poet Horace was born, B. C. 65, at Venusium, a small town in eastern Italy near the Adriatic. The town still exists as the modern Venosa, and a statue of Horace adorns its market place. The inhabitants point out with pride the house in which the poet was born, and also show near by Mt. Vul- ture, on which he was lost when a boy. Tradition relates that, tired out from his wanderings, he fell asleep and that by direc- tion of the Muses the birds covered him with leaves and thus saved him from the wild beasts. Horace's father was a freedman, an auctioneer by occupa- tion. Being proud of his son and wishing to advance him in life he sent him to Rome to school. At the age of twenty Horace went to Athens for a university education. About this time Julius Caesar was assassinated and Horace joined the army gathered by Brutus and Cassius to fight against the triumvirate-friends of the dead Caesar. The army was defeated and their cause lost at the battle of Philippi. Returning to Rome, at the age of twenty-two, B. C. 43, Horace began to write his Satires and Epodes. He secured a clerkship under the government, gained the favor of Maecenas, became a popular poet, and led the merry life of the time. When about thirty Maecenas gave him a farm in the Sabine country, thirty miles from Rome and about twelve from Tibur, now Tivoli. He spent most of his time in this place and the city, occasionally going to the baths at Baiae, or visiting his friends in Praenestum, Tarentum and other suburban towns. Thus Horace lived uneventfully for about thirty years, writing ALLEGED BIRTHPLACE OF HORACE IN VENOSA Life and Invalidism of Horace XXI . poetry and looking after his friends, his farm and his health. As he did not like the sea, he never left Italy after his return from the war. Horace was short in stature, and had a dark complexion, a low brow and black hair. He was quick tempered, and although he had originally a good constitution, he became in later life a confirmed dyspeptic. At the age of forty-five he wrote to Maecenas : But if you'd have me always by your side, Then give me back the chest deep-breathed and wide, The low brow clustered with its locks of black. The flow of talk, the ready laugh give back. The woes blabbed o'er our wine, when Cinara chose To tease me, cruel flirt — ah, happy woes ! Traveling to Brundusium with two friends they one day stop- ped at an inn. When dinner was served Horace could not eat it " because ", as he says in his story of the journey, " the water was bad." "Declaring war against his appetite", he sat watch- ing his companions with much vexation. He was so fastidious in his taste that he could not bear to have others like what he did not, — a trait characteristic of persons with weak stomachs and sensitive nerves. At twenty-nine he describes his life as very regular and simple. In the evening he takes a walk about town, then goes home to a supper of vegetables, leeks and pulse, and fritters. He goes to bed early, and, waking in the morning, lies there reading and writing till the fourth hour (10 A. M.). Then he goes for a walk or to the baths, eats a light lunch and returns to take his ease at home. This simple life was due perhaps in part to his poverty ; but even at that age he avoided hard exercise, and when in his stroll he is met by a friend who asks how he is, gives the answer of one not in buoyant health : " Suavitur, ut nunc est." (Fairly well, as times go). Sat. I, 9. To be sure, he is having dinners with the rich and has learned what luxuri- ous living is; has composed warm lyrics to Lalage, Neaera, XXll Horace : Quinfus Horatius Flaccus Pyrrha, Lyce and Phryne ; and has sung of the enjoyment of life,— also and ever of the folly of excess. Some idea of what might be served at such a Roman banquet as we may suppose he often attended in these days is given by Horace, m Satire 11, 8, where he describes an imaginary dinner party given by a certain Nasidienus, a man remarkable for h\^ wealth, his osten- tation and vulgarity. We make from the poem a menu and a sequence of incidents, somewhat as follows: MENU OF THE DINNER OF NASIDIENUS. Lucanian Boar, served with Rapes, Lettuce, Radishes and a Sauce of Skirwort Pickled Fish and the Lees of Coan Wine [ This served for the " promulsis " or " a la Russe " part of the banquet. The table is now cleared off and wiped with expensive purple napkins.) Chian and Caecuban Wine [ These were inferior wines, but the host announces loudly that the guests can have others if they wish.] Sea Eel and Roe, swimming in a Sauce made of Venafrum Oil Pickled Mackerel Home-brewed Wine Pepper and Vinegar [ At this stage the awning falls down on the table and spoils everything. Horace's party becomes drunk and demands more wine.) A mighty Crane, grilled, with Flour and Salt The Livers of Geese fattened on Figs Wings of Hares Roasted Blackbirds Fricasseed Pigeon served without the rump Besides this were cakes, turbot, plaice, honey-apples and other mmor dishes, a functionary, named Nomentanus, being present to point out any special delicacy that had been overlooked. Horace's party becomes too intoxicated to eat more, and runs away. As one of them said to Horace in his Roman way. he " had had the time of his life." " Sic, ut mihi nunquam in vita fuerit melius." It was during his years thirty-five to forty that Horace wrote his best lyrics, finishing the first three books when he was about forty-one. During this time he lived partly in Rome ; THE DINNER GIVEN BY NASIDIENUS. SAT. II, 8 From an Engraving in Francis's Translation of Horace No. 3. Varius No. 7. Nomentanus No. 5. Maecenas No. 8. Nasidienus xxn Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Pyrrha, Lyce and Phryne ; and has sung of the enjoyment of life.— also and ever of the folly of excess. Some idea of what might be served at such a Roman banquet as we may suppose he often attended in these days is given by Horace, in Satire II, 8, where he describes an imaginary dinner party given by a certain Nasidienus, a man remarkable for his wealth, his osten- tation and vulgarity. We make from the poem a menu and a sequence of incidents, somewhat as follows : MENU OF THE DINNER OF NASIDIENUS. Lucanian Boar, served with Rapes, Lettuce, Radishes and a Sauce of Skirwort Pickled Fish and the Lees of Coan Wine [ This served for the " promulsis " or " a la Russe " part of the banquet. The table is now cleared off and wiped with expensive purple napkins.) Chian and Caecuban Wine ( These were inferior wines, but the host announces loudly that the guests can have others if they wish.) Sea Eel and Roe. swimming in a Sauce made of Venafrum Oil Pickled Mackerel Home-brewed Wine Pepper and Vinegar ( At this stage the awning falls down on the table and spoils everything. Horace's party becomes drunk and demands more wine.] A mighty Crane, grilled, with Flour and Salt The Livers of Geese fattened on Figs Wings of Hares Roasted Blackbirds Fricasseed Pigeon served without the rump Besides this were cakes, turbot, plaice, honey-apples and other mmor dishes, a functionary, named Nomentanus, being present to pomt out any special delicacy that had been overlooked. Horace's party becomes too intoxicated to eat more, and runs away. As one of them said to Horace in his Roman way, he " had had the time of his life." " Sic, ut mihi nunquam in vita fuerit melius." It was during his years thirty-five to forty that Horace wrote his best lyrics, finishing the first three books when he was about forty-one. During this time he lived partly in Rome ; THE DINNER GIVEN BY NASIDIENUS. SAT. II, 8 From an Engraving in Francis's Translation of Horace No. 3. Varius No. 7. Nomentanus No. 5. Maecenas No. 8. Nasidienus Life and Invalidism of Horace xxiii but had to go occasionally to Tibur, Praeneste and Baiae. He was even thus early, perhaps, a little nervous and not a good sleeper. He says he cannot sleep if he does not write poetry. He continued to be a good-natured man, or he never could have written that most humorous of ancient poems.— his ad- ventures with a bore. At thirty-nine he was nearly killed by the falling of a tree. He wrote an Ode. (II. 1 3). about it. and referred to the in- cident at other times. It is about this time that he says a short dinner suits him. and a nap afterwards; declares himself no longer a votary of Venus ; and hangs up his armor on the walls of the temple. Although he had once been something of a fop. he now becomes rather careless in his dress and is indifferent to fine living and the charms of the opposite sex. (Ode I, 4). All these things indicate that on reaching the fifth decade he was becoming an invalid. About this period, (age forty-two), he consulted Dr. Antonius Musa. Dr. Musa having cured Augustus by cold baths, had set the vogue for this kind of treatment, and they were pre- scribed even in winter. The warm, sulphurous waters of Baiae had been famous for removing lingering disorders from the nerves. Horace had been to these baths of Baiae for treat- ment. Not being cured. Musa ordered him cold baths, and he took them at Clusium and Gabies. But he found the country too cold and disagreeable in vmter. So he wrote to his friend, Vala, to tell him about the baths of Velie and Salemum in Lu- cania, near Naples, (Epist. 1, 15), and asked what kind of food and drink and climate he would find in these resorts. The evidence begins to accumulate that Horace about this time was entering his climacteric or developing somewhat of a "nervous prostration". Writing at the age of forty-five to Cel- sus, secretary of Nero, (Epist. I, 8), he says, " If you are asked what Horace is doing, say that though he is promising to do many beautiful things, he really is not living rightly or pleasantly, and is no less sick in mind than in body"; that he did not wish xxiv Horace: Quinlus Horatius Flaccus to hear or learn of anything that would alleviate his illness ; that he was offending his faithful physicians and irritating his friends because they tried to arouse him from his fatal lethargy, (funes- to vetemo,) (Epist. I, 8). 'Fidis offendar meJicis, irascar amicis. Cur me funesto properent arcere vetemo. ** But Horace, after all, did not have any very serious break- down, for he not only worked every year, but wrote some of his best poetry, the Carmen Seculare for example, when he was over forty-five. Moreover, he wrote the Ars Poetica when fifty-six, the year before he died. So his mind must have remained clear even to the last. His worst poetry, indeed, some of the Satires and Epodes, was written when he was young and well. Horace became less lyrical and more didactic as he grew older ; but this is quite a natural change in a man who enters middle life an invalid. This invalidism made him more of a preacher, philosopher and contented country gentleman than he perhaps would otherwise have been; but we cannot assume it to have changed the quality of his work. It may, however, have affected the quantity. One of Hor- ace's greatest achievements was his brevity. Though a profes- sional writer for thirty years, his total output was only five books of Odes, one hundred and twenty-one in all, and about an equal quantity of verse in the form of Epistles, Satires and an Elssay on the Art of Poetry. Horace died suddenly at the age of fifty-seven. The cause of his death is unknown ; but when we consider that he had at times lived somewhat riotously ; was never very strong, yet kept up occasional dissipations ; was choleric and passionate, and. to the last, fond of his wine and Chloe ; we may properly infer that he had an arterial sclerosis and a bad heart, and died either from a cardio-renal trouble or from some form of cerebral apoplexy. C. L. D. STATUE OF ANTONIUS MUSA Physician to Augustus and Horace xxiv Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus to hear or learn of anything that would alleviate his illness ; that he was offending his faithful physicians and irritating his friends because they tried to arouse him from his fatal lethargy, (funes- to veterno.) (Epist. 1, 8). "Fidis offendar meJicis, irascar amicis, Cur me funesto properent arcere veterno." But Horace, after all, did not have any very serious break- down, for he not only worked every year, but wrote some of his best poetry, the Carmen Seculare for example, when he was over forty-five. Moreover, he wrote the Ars Poetica when fifty-six, the year before he died. So his mind must have remained clear even to the last. His worst poetry, indeed, some of the Satires and Epodes, was written when he was young and well. Horace became less lyrical and more didactic as he grew older ; but this is quite a natural change in a man who enters middle life an invalid. This invalidism made him more of a preacher, philosopher and contented country gentleman than he perhaps would otherwise have been; but we cannot assume it to have changed the quality of his work. It may, however, have affected the quantity. One of Hor- ace's greatest achievements was his brevity. Though a profes- sional writer for thirty years, his total output was only five books of Odes, one hundred and twenty-one in all, and about an equal quantity of verse in the form of Epistles, Satires and an Elssay on the Art of Poetry. Horace died suddenly at the age of fifty-seven. The cause of his death is unknown ; but when we consider that he had at times lived somewhat riotously ; was never very strong, yet kept up occasional dissipations ; was choleric and passionate, and, to the last, fond of his wine and Chloe ; we may properly infer that he had an arterial sclerosis and a bad heart, and died either from a cardio-renal trouble or from some form of cerebral apoplexy. C. L. D. STATUE OF ANTONIUS MUSA Phycician to Augustus and Horace HORACE'S EDUCATION, HABITS, AND VIEWS OF LIFE, AS TOLD IN HIS SATIRES AND EPISTLES The idea of making Horace tell the story of his life by the use of quotations from his work, has been elaborately worked out by Mr. Clarence Cary. His translation is in blank verse, and is an attempt to carry out the style of the original. We have, in the following extracts, pursued in part the same line, but to a very much less extent. We have printed extracts from the Epistles and Satires only, and chiefly those which bear upon his education, his tribute to his father, his relations to Maecenas, his life in the country, and in Rome. The interest of these passages lies in the picture they give of Roman life two thousand years ago. Most of the translations are by Sir Theodore Martin, whose two volumes on the works of Horace form altogether the finest interpretation of the poet that has been made. HORACE'S EDUCATION, AND HIS START AS A POET I was brought up at Rome, and there was taught What ills to Greece Achilles' anger wrought ; Then Athens bettered that dear lore of song ; She taught me to distinguish right from wrong, And in the groves of Academe to sound The way to truth, if so she might be found. But from that spot, so pleasant and so gay. Hard times and troublous swept my youth away On civil war's tempestuous tide, to fight V-- ; F xxvi Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus In ranks unmeet to cope with Caesar's might. Whence when Phillippi, with my pinions clipped, Struck to the dust, of land and fortune stripped, Turned me adrift, through poverty grown rash, At the versemonger's craft I made a dash. Epist. II. 2 Martin !l HORACE PAYS TRIBUTE TO HIS FATHER All this I owe my father, who, though poor. Lord of some few lean acres, and no more. Was loath to send me to the village school. Whereto the sons of men of mark and rule, — Centurions, and the like, — were wont to swarm. With slate and satchel on sinister arm. And the poor dole of scanty p>ence to pay The starveling teacher on the quarter day ; But boldly took me when a boy to Rome, There to be taught all arts that grace the home Of knight and senator. To see my dress, And slaves attending, you'd have thought, no less Than patrimonial fortunes old and great Had furnished forth the charges of my state. When with my tutors, he would still be by. Nor ever let me wander from his eye ; And in a word he kept me chaste (and this Is virtue's crown) from all that was amiss. Nor such in act alone, but in repute. Till even scandal's tattling voice was mute. No dread had he, that men might taunt or jeer. Should I, some future day, as auctioneer. Or, like himself, as tax-collector seek With petty fees my humble means to eke. Nor should I then have murmured. Now I know. More earnest thanks, and loftier praise I owe. Reason must fail me, ere I cease to own With pride, that I have such a father known ! Nor shall I stoop my birth to vindicate. By charging, like the herd, the wrong on Fate, That I was not of noble lineage sprung : Far other creed inspires my heart and tongue. Education, Habits, Views of Life xxvii For now should Nature bid ail living men Retrace their years, and live them o'er again. Each culling, as his inclination bent, His parents for himself, with mine content, I would not choose whom men endow as great With the insignia and seats of state ; And, though I seem insane to vulgar eyes. Thou wouldst perchance esteem me truly wise, In thus refusing to assume the care Of irksome state I was unused to bear. Sat. I, 6 Martin HOW HORACE WAS TAUGHT TO BE GOOD But if I still seem personal and bold, Perhaps you'll pardon, when my story's told. When my good father taught me to be good, Scarecrows he took of living flesh and blood. Thus, if he warned me not to spend but spare The moderate means I owe to his wise care, Twas, " See the life that son of Aibius leads ! Observe that Barrus, vilest of ill weeds! rj^^L \^^^^^^ '^^^^ ^^^ heedless youth, whose taste Might lead them else a fair estate to waste." If lawless love were what he bade me shun, "Avoid Scetanius' slough," his words would run; Wise men," he'd add, "the reasons will explain Why you should follow this, from that refrain : For me, if I can train you in the ways Trod by the worthy folks of earlier days. And, while you need direction, keep your name And life unspotted, I've attained my aim : When riper years have seasoned brain and limb, You'll drop your corks, and like a Triton swim." Twas thus he formed my boyhood : if he sought To make me do some action that I ought, "You see your warrant there," he'd say, and clench His word with some grave member of the bench: So too with things forbidden : "Can you doubt The deed's a deed an honest man should scout, i! ! '1 i xxviii Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus When, just for this same matter, these and those. Like open drains, are stinking 'neath your nose ? " Sick gluttons of a next-door funeral hear. And learn self-mastery in the school of fear: And so a neighbor's scandal many a time Has kept young minds from running into crime. Thus 1 grew up, unstained by serious ill. Though venial faults, I grant you, haunt me still. Sat. I, 4 Conington HOW HORACE MET MAECENAS No chance it was secured me thy regards ; But Virgil first, that best of friends and bards. And then kind Varius mentioned what I was. Before you brought, with many a faltering pause. Dropping some few brief words ( for bashfulness Robbed me of utterance ), 1 did not profess That 1 was sprung of lineage old and great. Or used to canter round my own estate, On Satureian barb, but what and who I was as plainly told. As usual, you Brief answer make me. 1 retire, and then. Some nine months after, summoning me again. You bid me 'mongst your friends assume a place : And proud 1 feel, that thus I won thy grace, Not by an ancestry long known to fame, But by my life, and heart devoid of blame. Sat. I. 6 Martin HORACE IS INTIMATE WITH MAECENAS Close on eight years it now must be, Since first Maecenas numbered me Among his friends, as one to take Out driving with him, and to make The confidant of trifles, say, Like this, "What is the time of day?" "The Thracian gladiator, can One match him with the Syrian?" II Education, Habits, Views of Life xxix "These chilly mornings will do harm, If one don't mind to wrap up warm ; " Such nothings as without a fear One drops into the chinkiest ear. And when I swear, as well I can. That I know nothing, for a man Of silence rare and most discreet They cry me up to all the street. Sat. 11, 6 Martin HE IS AN OBJECT OF ENVY Yet all this time hath envy's glance On me looked more and more askance. From mouth to mouth such comments run : "Our friend indeed is Fortune's son. Why, there he was, the other day. Beside Maecenas at the play ; And at the Campus, just before. They had a bout at battledore." Some chilling news through lane and street Spreads from the Forum. All I meet Accost me thus : — "Dear friend, you're so Close to the gods, that you must know : About the Dacians, have you heard Any fresh tidings ? " " Not a word ! " "You're always jesting !" "Now may all The gods confound me, great and small. If I have heard one word!" "Well, well. But you at any rate can tell. If Caesar means the lands, which he Has promised to his troops, shall be Selected from Italian ground. Or in Trinacria be found ? " XXX Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus HE LONGS FOR THE COUNTRY Thus do my wasted days slip by, Not without many a wish and sigh, When, when shall 1 the country see. Its woodlands green, — oh, when be free. With books of great old men, and sleep. And hours of dreamy ease, to creep Into oblivion sweet of life. Its agitations and its strife? When on my table shall be seen Pythagoras's kinsman bean. And bacon, not too fat, embellish My dish of greens, and give it relish } HE ENTERTAINS HIS FRIENDS Oh happy nights, oh feasts divine, When, with friends I love, I dine At mine own hearth-fire, and the meat We leave gives my bluff hinds a treat ! No stupid laws our feasts control. But each guest drains or leaves the bowl. Precisely as he feels inclined. If he be strong, and have a mind For bumpers, good ! If not, he's free To sip his liquor leisurely. And then the talk our banquet rouses ! But not about our neighbors* houses, Or if 'tis generally thought That Lepos dances well or not 7 But what concerns us nearer, and Is harmful not to understand. Whether by wealth or worth, 'tis plain. That men to happiness attain ? By what we're led to choose our friends, — Regard for them, or our own ends ? In what does good consist, and what Is the supremest form of that ? And then friend Cervius will strike in With some old grandam's tale. . . . Sat. II, 6 Martin Education, Habits, Views of Life xxxi HORACE'S DAILY LIFE IN ROME I walk alone, by mine own fancy led. Inquire the price of potherbs and of bread, The circus cross to see its tricks and fun. The forum, too, at times near set of sun ; With other fools there do I stand and gape Round fortune-tellers' stalls, thence home escape To a plain meal of pancakes, pulse and pease ; Three young boy-slaves attend on me with these. Upon a slab of snow-white marble stand A goblet, and two beakers ; near at hand, A common ewer, patera, and bowl, — Campania's potteries produced the whole. To sleep then I I keep my couch till ten, then walk awhile. Or having read or writ what may beguile A quiet after-hour, anoint my limbs With oil, not such as filthy Natta skims From lamps defrauded of their unctuous fare. And when the sunbeams, grown too hot to bear. Warn me to quit the field, and hand-ball-play. The bath takes all my weariness away. Then, having lightly dined, just to appease The sense of emptiness, I take mine ease. Enjoying all home's simple luxury. This is the life of bard, unclogged, like me. By stern ambition's miserable weight. So placed, I own with gratitude, my state Is sweeter, ay, than though a quaestor's power From sire and grandsire's sires had been my dower. Sat. I, 6 Martin HE TRIES TO WRITE POETRY IN ROME Write verse in Rome, too ? How could I, in fact. Amidst so much to worry and distract? "Bail me!" writes one. "Cut business for the day," Another, "and I'll read you my new play!" Then on the Quirinal is one sick friend. One on Mount Aventine, quite at the end, And each of these expects a call from me — I ■■ > II MM. Ir It ■■ r. ill xxxii Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Nice manageable distances, you see. " But then the streets are clear ; with nought," you say, "To hinder one from musing by the way!" Why here a builder in a fume you meet, With mules and porters cramming all the street. Anon a crane, whirling a stone in air Or mighty beam, obstructs the thoroughfare. Then there's a block of dismal funeral trains Jammed up and struggling with huge cumbrous wains ; Anon a mad dog rushes foaming by. Anon a pig, all reeking hom the sty. Epist. II, 2 Martin HE DESCRIBES HIS COUNTRY SEAT As, dearest Quinctius, you may wish to know The things this country-place of mine will grow, If it enrich me with oil, apples, wine. Or if its fields are best for com or kine, Its site and character I will essay To picture for you in my chatty way. Girdled by hills it lies, through which but one Small valley, rich in shade, is seen to run. Where on the right the morning sunbeams play. Whilst on the left they rest at close of day. You'd like the air. Wild cherry there, and sloe Purply and dark, in rich profusion grow. While oak and ilex bounteously afford Food for my herds, and shelter for their lord. Epist. I, 16 Martin HORACE IS AFRAID HE MAY GET ILL Only five days, I said, I should be gone ; Yet August's past, and still I linger on. 'Tis true I've broke my promise. But if you Would have me well, as I am sure you do, Grant me the same indulgence, which, were I Laid up with illness, you would not deny, ' Although I claim it only for the fear Of being ill, this deadly time of year. (i Education, Habits, Views of Life xxxui When autumn's clammy heat and early fruits Deck undertakers out, and inky mutes ; When young mamas, and fathers to a man, With terrors for their sons and heirs are wan ; When stifling anteroom, or court, distils Fevers wholesale, and breaks the seals of wills. Should winter swathe the Alban fields in snow, Down to the sea your poet means to go. To nurse his ailments, and, in cosy nooks Close huddled up, to loiter o'er his books. But once let zephyrs blow, sweet friend, and then, If then you'll have him, he will quit his den. With the first swallow hailing you again. Epist. 1, 7. Martin HE TELLS MAECENAS HOW TO MAKE A PRESENT When you bestowed on me what made me rich. Not in the spirit was it done, in which Your bluff Calabrian on a guest will thrust His pears: "Come, eat, man, eat — you can, you must!" "Indeed, indeed, my friend, I've had enough." "Then take some home! " " You're too obliging." "Stuff ! If you have pockets full of them, I guess, Your little lads will like you none the less." "I really can't — thanks all the same!" "You won't? Why then the pigs shall have them, if you don't." 'Tis fools and prodigals, whose gifts consist Of what they spurn, or what is never missed : Such tilth will never yield, and never could, A harvest save of coarse ingratitude. A wise good man is evermore alert. When he encounters it, to own desert ; Nor is he one on whom you'd try to pass For sterling currency mere lackered brass. For me, 'twill be my aim myself to raise Even to the flattering level of your praise. Epist. I, 7 Martin \ » I ; t : xxxiv Horace: Quintus Horalius Flaccus HORACE INQUIRES FOR A HEALTHY PLACE AT THE SEA SHORE Which place is best supplied with com, d'ye think ? Have they rain-water or fresh springs to drink ? Their wines I care not for : when at my farm 1 can drink any sort without much harm ; But at the sea I need a generous kind To warm my veins and pass into my mind, Enrich me with new hopes, choice words supply. And make me comely in a lady's eye. Which tract is best for game, on which sea-coast Urchins and other fish abound the most. That so, when I return, my friends may see A sleek Phaeacian come to life in me : These things you needs must tell me, Vala dear, And I no less must act on what I hear. Epist. I, 1 5 Conington t HORACE GIVES SEPTIMIUS AN INGENIOUS LETTER OF INTRODUCTION TO NERO Septimius only understands, 'twould seem. How high I stand in, Claudius, your esteem ; For when he begs and prays me, day by day. Before you his good qualities to lay. As not unfit to share the heart and hearth Of Nero, who selects his staff for worth ; When he supposes you to me extend The rights and place of a familiar friend, — Much better than myself he sees and knows. How far with you my commendation goes. Plea upon plea, believe me, I have used. In hope he'd hold me from the task excused. Yet feared the while, it might be thought I feigned Too low what influence I perchance have gained; Dissembling it as nothing with my friends. To keep it for my own peculiar ends. So to escape such dread reproach, I put My blushes by, and boldly urge my suit. If, then, you hold it as a grace, though small. Education, Habits, Views of Life xxxv To doff one's bashfulness at friendship's call. Enrol him in your suite, assured you'll find A man of heart in him, as well as mind. Epist. I, 9 Martin HOW TO TREAT FRIENDS True love, we know, is blind ; defects, that blight The loved one's charms, escape the lover's sight. Nay, pass for beauties ; as Balbinus shows A passion for the wen on Agna's nose. Oh, with our friendships that we did the same. And screened our blindness under virtue's name ! For we are bound to treat a friend's defect With touch most tender, and a fond respect ; Even as a father treats a child's, who hints. The urchin's eyes are roguish, if he squints : Or if he be as stunted, short, and thick. As Sisyphus, the dwarf, will call him " chick ! " If crooked all ways, in back, in legs, in thighs. With softening phrases will the flaw disguise. So, if one friend too close a fist betrays. Let us ascribe it to his frugal ways ; Or if another — such we often find — To flippant jest and braggart talk inclined, 'Tis only from a kindly wish to try To make the time 'mongst friends go lightly by ; Another's tongue is rough and over-free. Let's call it bluntness and sincerity ; Another's choleric; him we must screen. As cursed with feelings for his peace too keen. This is the course, methinks, that makes a friend. And, having made, secures him to the end. Sat. I, 3 Martin I HORACE'S PRAYERS For me, when freshened by my spring's pure cold. Which makes my villagers looked pinched and old. What prayers are mine? "O may I yet possess The goods I have, or, if heaven pleases, less! !i xxxvi Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Let the few years that Fate may grant me still Be all my own, not held at others' will ! Let me have books, and stores for one year hence, Nor make my life one flutter of suspense ! " But I forbear ; sufficient 'tis to pray To Jove for what he gives and takes away ; Grant life, grant fortune, for myself I'll find That best of blessings — a contented mind. Epist. I, 18 Conington My prayers with this I used to charge, — A piece of land not very large, Wherein there should a garden be, A clear spring flowing ceaselessly. And where, to crown the whole, there should A patch be found of growing wood. All this, and more, the gods have sent. And 1 am heartily content. Oh son of Maia, that I may These bounties keep is all I pray. If ne'er by craft or base design I've swelled what little store is mine. Nor mean it ever shall be wrecked By profligacy or neglect ; If never from my lips a word Shall drop of wishes so absurd As, " Had I but that little nook. Next to my land, that spoils its look !" Or, "Would some lucky chance unfold A crock to me of hidden gold. As to the man, whom Hercules Enriched and settled at his ease. Who, with the treasure he had found. Bought for himself the very ground Which he before for hire had tilled !" Sat. II, 6 Martin Ripe berries from the olive bough. Mallows and endives be my fare. Son of Latona ! Hear my vow ; Apollo, grant my prayer. ' * Education, Habits, Views of Life xxx\>ii Health to enjoy the blessings sent From heaven; a mind unclouded, strong; A cheerful heart ; a wise content ; An honoured age ; and song. Ode I, 31 DeVerc If only poverty keep from my door. Unlovely poverty, I ask no more ; The ship I sail in may be large or small, 'Twill carry me, and that is all in all. Fair winds we may not have, nor swelling sails. Yet neither have we always adverse gales. In strength, in worth, in influence, powers of mind, In rank and fortune, though I come behind The very foremost, many yet there be That in their turn come lagging after me. Epist. II, 2 Martin HORACE TO HIS OWN BOOK Horace addresses this Epistle to his Book as though it were a young and restless girl anxious to go out and see the world. We have given only the first and last part of the Poem. The Book is the first of his Epistles. The Socii were famous booksellers whose shop was near the temples of Janus and Vertunmus. I read the meaning of that wistful look Toward Janus and Vertumnus, O my book! Upon the Socii's shelves you long to stand. Rubbed smooth with pumice by their skillful hand. You chafe at lock and modest seal ; you groan. That you should only to a few be shown. And sigh by all the public to be read. You in far other notions trained and bred. Well, go your way, whereso you please and when, — But, once sent forth, you come not back again. But if, i>erchance, some sunny afternoon To hear your voice shall eager ears attune, Say, that though bom a freedman's son, possessed xxxviii Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Of slender means, beyond the parent nest 1 soared on ampler wing : thus what in birth I lack, let that be added to my worth. Say, that in war, and also here at home, 1 stood well with the foremost men of Rome ; That small in stature, prematurely grey, Sunshine was life to me and gladness ; say Besides, though hasty in my temper, I Was just as quick to put my anger by. Then, should my age be asked you, add that four And forty years I'd flourished, and no more. In the December of that year, which fame Will join with Lepidus* and Lollius* name. Epist. I, 20 Martin ON THE VALUE OF THE POET Horace thought the true Poet had all the powers and duties of a Teacher and a Priest. We give below a portion only of his panegyric : His lessons form the child's young lips, and wean The boyish ear from words and tales unclean ; As years roll on, he moulds the ripening mind. And makes it just and generous, sweet and kind ; He tells of worthy precedents, displays The examples of the past to after days, Consoles affliction, and disease allays. Epist. II, i Conington Education, Habits, Views of Life xxxix Since you, great Caesar, singly wield the charge Of Rome's concerns, so manifold and large, — With sword and shield the commonwealth protect. With morals grace it, and with laws correct, — The bard, methinks, would do a public wrong. Who, having gained your ear, should keep it long. Epist. II, I Conington HORACE AND MAECENAS Think not that I have sworn a bootless oath ; Yes, we shall go, shall go. Hand linked in hand, where'er thou leadest, both The last sad road below. Ode II. 1 7 Martin HORACE AND AUGUSTUS When time and circumstance suggest, I shall not fail to do my best ; But never words of mine shall touch Great Caesar's ear, but only such As are to the occasion due. And spring from my conviction, too ; For stroke him with an awkward hand, And he kicks out — you understand ? Sat. II, i Marti I HORACE'S SO-CALLED MISTRESSES We can best preface this subject with the lines by George M. Whicher, published in Scribner's Magazine, January, 1902: BALLADE OF HORACE'S LOVES Lydia, (ickle and fair, Lyce, the faded of hue, Lalage, Pholoe — there! Hark, how the I's ripple through. These were the beauties that drew. These lilting and lyrical dames! Leuconoe, Glycera — Pooh! Why, Horace, they're nothing but names ! Pyrrha, the golden of hair, Lyde the lyrist, the shrew Myrtale — well, I declare! What in the world shall we do ? Must we abandon the crew. Their gallants and gaddings and games? Barine, Lycoris, adieu! Alas ! ye are nothing but names ! All were but syllabled air, Fancies that fluttered and flew. Innocent Phidyle's prayer, Chloe, the fawn, and the few Years that your Cinara knew, Cinara, sweetest of flames! Ah, Horace, I'm sorry for you; Alas ! they were nothing but names ! i^ Horace's So-called Mistresses xli Envoi Ladies! ye shrink from this view; But soon all your loves and your fames. Fun, frailties, frolics, ye too Alas ! will be nothing but names. The conclusion of most students of Horace is that he did not have a sort of harem, as some have suggested, but merely a beautihil vocabulary. He went through one bitter love affair with Canidia. He seems, according to Martin, to have had a real tenderness for Cinera, who treated him kindly at times, but who died early. In his later years he recalled this friend- ship, and the happiness and trouble it caused him. He was apparently also much smitten with Lydia, to whom he writes four Odes. Nothing is known of the personal history or character of any of the women to whom he addresses his poems, or to whom he makes reference. Horace was a bachelor and apparently not a student of women as a factor in the social organism of the time. He has nothing to say against them as a class, nor does he praise them for their domestic or social virtues, nor indeed for anything but their personal quali- ties. He does, indeed, speak with eloquence and appreciation of the humbler class of women, the farmer's wife, who is "pudica mulier," who builds the fire to keep her husband warm, milks the cows, and takes out the wine and prepares the meals for the family. Horace's love poems were not real love poetry or even love songs, though they had sometimes a suggestion of physical warmth. They were songs of pleasant reminiscence, or of some prospective meeting, of jealousy or reproach, and adieu. In fact, modem romantic love did not enter into poetry until the time of Petrarch, and Horace was not of the Petrarch type. In one of the Satires, (III, 11) he allows a certain Damasip- pus to make fun of him, and to accuse him of imitating the X :lii Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus manners of the great, of writing verses, of being quick tem- pered, extravagant and fond of the ladies, "of frequent fits of rage", "of a style of living beyond his means", of "girls by the score". In all these respects Horace seems to have been open to remark; but there was no very serious degree of perversity in him. Had there been it is not likely that he would have published his faults so candidly. Horace wrote many Odes to many young women of whom we know nothing beyond their names, and such beautiful names ; — Chloe, Phyllis, Leuconoe, Barine, Myrtale, Lydia, Phryne. They were mostly of Greek origin, and they represented either simply names, or ladies of the hetairai class. But his songs to these fair persons lack evidence of deep passion, though they reveal the attitude of his time toward the goddess of Gnidos. C L. D. HORACE'S FRIENDS Horace was evidently a man who had many friends, and friends in various walks of life. Those to whom he was most closely attached, aside from Maecenas, were chiefly men of letters or men of means enjoying the social life of the city. He gives a list of those friends whom he particularly wished to please with his writings. It included Virgil, Varius, Valgius, Fumius and Pollio, who were eminent as poets, orators or historians. Others of them were, like Maecenas, Plotius and Messala, men of affairs and soldiers as well as patrons of literature and art. A few like Fuscus, Bibulus, and Servius were men about town, interested in literature and promoters of good fellowship. Beside these there were Pompey, his early companion in arms; the Lollii, father and son, the former a politician and soldier, the son a student ; the Pisos, to whom he addressed his "Ars Poetica;" also Septimius, Vala, Lamia and Quinctius, men of political importance. In poems addressed to these persons he celebrates their successes, consoles them in their troubles, invites them to his home, or discourses to them some of his favorite moralities. Horace showed a genuine and affecting attachment to Maecenas, a nobleman of high rank, adviser of Augustus and something of an author himself. He writes to Maecenas when the latter is ill and protests that he must not think of dying. He swears that they cannot be parted and that if Maecenas dies he will not survive him. "Think not, that I have sworn a bootless oath; Yes, we shall go, shall go. Hand linked in hand, where'er thou leadest. both The last sad road below!" , „ ,, ,. . Ode II. 17 Martin 'f xliv Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Virgil, also, was very close to Horace, at least in the latter's earlier life. The great epic poet was the older of the two and somewhat of an invalid ; but he had an assured i>o8ition in Rome when Horace reached that city, and was able to help him. Varius was another poet to whom Horace was appa- rently much attached and indebted. We know little of him except that he wrote good poetry, and had a reputation almost equal to that of Virgil. Horace was associated with Pompey in the army of Brutus, and they fought together. When Pompey, after his defeat, came back to Rome, Horace sang him a song of welcome which showed the warmth of genuine friendship. Horace wrote an Ode to Lamia, and this, as well as a reference in one of his Letters, showed he was a friend for whose comfort he was sacrificing himself. Horace admired Augustus, and sang his praises, though he may have been somewhat under official compulsion. Perhaps he was a little afraid of the great man. However, two of Horace's most noble poems, the Secular Hymn, and the Praises of Drusus, were written at the suggestion or order of the emperor. Horace was not always happy in his choice of friends ; at least history does not paint them all as unspotted characters. Plancus, whom he advises to drown care with wine, was an able soldier, but an adventurer and voluptuary, who scarcely needed the advice. Antonius lulus, the poet, was a man of distinction and wealth ; but he was condemned to death for an intrigue with Julia, the daughter of Augustus. Horace celebrates Lollius as " a soul of prescient power, Not lifted up in prosperous hour"; .... " Severe to greedy fame ; .... secure against the world's great magnet, gain". This man plundered the nations whom he conquered, was later convicted of bribery, and died by his own hands. Licinius, whom Horace advises to moderation and the golden mean, became a conspirator against Augustus and was put to death. VIRGIL READING HIS GEORGICS TO HORACE, VARIUS AND MAECENAS, AT THE HOME OF MAECENAS From the Painting by Jalabert, 1847 :lw Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Virgil, also, was very close to Horace, at least in the latter's earlier life. The great epic poet was the older of the two and somewhat of an invalid ; but he had an assured position in Rome when Horace reached that city, and was able to help him. Varius was another poet to whom Horace was appa- rently much attached and indebted. We know little of him except that he wrote good poetry, and had a reputation almost equal to that of Virgil. Horace was associated with Pompey in the army of Brutus, and they fought together. When Pompey, after his defeat, came back to Rome, Horace sang him a song of welcome which showed the warmth of genuine friendship. Horace wrote an Ode to Lamia, and this, as well as a reference in one of his Letters, showed he was a friend for whose comfort he was sacrificing himself. Horace admired Augustus, and sang his praises, though he may have been somewhat under official compulsion. Perhaps he was a little afraid of the great man. However, two of Horace's most noble poems, the Secular Hymn, and the Praises of Drusus, were written at the suggestion or order of the emperor. Horace was not always happy in his choice of friends ; at least history does not paint them all as unspotted characters. Plancus, whom he advises to drown care with wine, was an able soldier, but an adventurer and voluptuary, who scarcely needed the advice. Antonius lulus, the poet, was a man of distinction and wealth ; but he was condemned to death for an intrigue with Julia, the daughter of Augustus. Horace celebrates Lollius as " a soul of prescient power, Not lifted up in prosperous hour"; .... " Severe to greedy fame ; . . . . secure against the world's great magnet, gain". This man plundered the nations whom he conquered, was later convicted of bribery, and died by his own hands. Licinius, whom Horace advises to moderation and the golden mean, became a conspirator against Augustus and was put to death. VIRGIL READING HIS GEORGICS TO HORACE, VARIUS AND MAECENAS, AT THE HOME OF MAECENAS From the Painting by Jalabert, 1847 Horace's Friends :h However, these were troublous times when neither fortune nor character were secure. Horace himself was evidently an attractive personality, and had strong attachments for those whom he chose as his associates. He speaks of friends and friendship much more warmly than he does of lovers and love. No other inmiortal poet had so many friends or such important ones as did Horace. _ C. L. D. ij*' HORACE'S DEITIES Horace is as intimate with the deities as with his friends and patrons. He rarely sings without introducing a god or a goddess ; and they are as an important part of his vocabulary as the woods and mountains. His deities are the familiar ones, and are rarely mentioned without some attributive. Chief among them were, Jove the thunderer, father, and guardian ; Venus, cruel mother of loves; Bacchus, bringer out of the truths of the heart ; unerring Apollo, god of song and prophecy ; his sister, Diana, ruler of the woods ; eloquent Mercury, winged son of fostering Maia ; Faunus, the great god Pan, ever ready to leave his Grecian hills and smile upon the fields of Horace. Then there were the "intact" Pallas, glowing Vulcan, un- pitying Pluto, and Mars the guardian god of War. Of the Muses he chose Melpomene, the muse of serious song, for his special appeals ; but he invokes also Euterpe, Clio, and Polyhymnia. The modest graces, children of Bacchus and Venus, the Nymphs and Satyrs all go to help out his poetic imagery and furnish objects for his invocations. The world in those days was full of minor and local deities, gods of the hearth, of the garden, of the rivers, and of cities and seas. They did not seem to mean much to Flaccus. It is not difficult, as a rule, to follow the poet in his dealings with Olympus ; but Horace did not like to repeat himself, and he is continually referring to gods, not by their usual names, but by names of mountains, or countries or temples where they were especially worshipped. Venus is called Cythera, and Erycina, goddess of Gnidos or Paphos. Bacchus is also Liber, and Evius, and the son of Semele ; Jove is One bom of Saturn, and Apollo is Latona*s son, Pythius or Cynthius. Horace's Deities xlvii Horace deals much with winds and the weather, and con- sequently with Aeolus king of the winds, and his children lapyx, Eurus, Notus and Auster, each representing a breeze from some particular quarter. It seems most probable that Horace had a thin and cultivated heathen faith in the reality of celestial influences, and felt that in some vague way his deities lived and exercised power over mankind, though not working miracles. He admits that he was "parcus cultor Deorum". — not a regular attendant at the temples; but he avers that he will change his course and attend to his religious affairs. His belief in a future was the common, ancient one of a shadowy, ghostly life upon certain dark Plutonian shores. He introduces a ghost into his poetry and believed, apparently, in the merit of burying the ashes of the dead lest the spirit wander disconsolate, unable to reach a final resting place. C. L. D. THE GEOGRAPHY OF HORACE Horace had an objective mind, and was fond of aiustrating his poetry with references to places and people. A little study of the map of the ancient world makes more apt and vivid many of his geographical allusions. He speab oftenest, naturally, of the regions of Greece, of the towns and mountains of Italy, and of the country about the Mediterranean. The places in Italy to which he most often alludes were Rome itself and certain resorts near by. Tibur, Tarentum. The Sabine Farm. Prae- neste, and Baiae. all places which he lived in or frequently visited. He had his friends and interests in remoter regions, also, in Germany, Spain and wherever the armies of Rome were fighting. The Roman world was the whole world, and the conquests of Augustus and his generals were topics of da^y and personal interest. His poetic imagery may be said to have been bounded, geographically speaking, on the east by the Scythians, Dacians. Gelonians, Parthians. and the Seres, repre- senting the fierce nations of Tartary, Arabia and the region about the Black and Caspian Seas ; on the north by the Alps, Germany, Gaul and Britain ; on the west by Spain and the Atlantic ; and on the south by Mauritania, Lydia and Getulia, regions of Africa, full of wUd beasts and savage men. A map, which we call "The Map of Horace's World", gives many of the places to which he most often alludes. He speaks of his native place, Venusium. He refers often to several districts of Italy, such as Campagnia and Latium. and to regions like Falemus and Caecubus from which came good wine. He calls the Italians, Daunians, from Daunia. a region in Apulia, near where he was bom. He sometimes gives to Italy the name Hesperia. We append a map of part of Italy which en D H CO D O D < O < H Z DC X H O CO Q Z < < cc z U 5 THE GEOGRAPHY OF HORACE Horace had an objective mind, and was fond of illustrating his poetry with references to places and people. A little study of the map of the ancient world makes more apt and vivid many of his geographical allusions. He speaks oftenest, naturally, of the regions of Greece, of the towns and mountains of Italy, and of the country about the Mediterranean. The places in Italy to which he most often alludes were Rome itself and certain resorts near by, Tibur, Tarentum, The Sabine Farm. Prae- neste, and Baiae, all places which he lived in or hrequently visited. He had his friends and interests in remoter regions, also, in Germany, Spain and wherever the armies of Rome were fighting. The Roman world was the whole world, and the conquests of Augustus and his generals were topics of daily and personal interest. His poetic imagery may be said to have been bounded, geographically speaking, on the east by the Scythians, Dacians, Gelonians, Parthians. and the Seres, repre- senting the fierce nations of Tartary, Arabia and the region about the Black and Caspian Seas ; on the north by the Alps, Germany. Gaul and Britain ; on the west by Spain and the Atlantic ; and on the south by Mauritania, Lydia and Getulia. regions of Africa, full of wild beasts and savage men. A map, which we call "The Map of Horace's World", gives many of the places to which he most often alludes. He speaks of his native place. Venusium. He refers often to several districts of Italy, such as Campagnia and Latium. and to regions like Falernus and Caecubus from which came good wine. He calls the Italians. Daunians. from Daunia, a region in Apulia, near where he was bom. He sometimes gives to Italy the name Hesperia. We append a map of part of Italy which CO D H CO O D < O < H Z a: X H O CO Q Z < < a: H z u Id U Id (d Id Id CO I V* I The Geography of Horace xlix shows those places to which most frequent reference is made. Horace has more mountains than any other geographical features in his verses. On them his gods and goddesses lived, and to love the mountains was one of the ancient functions of Bacchus, his favorite god. As Horace's Pantheon was a Greek one, he naturally sings most often of the mountains of that country, of Helicon in Thessaly, sacred to the Muses, of Pafnassus near by, and of Pindus ; also of Lycaeus in Arcadia, sacred to the great god Pan ; of Erymanthus, one of the many homes of Venus ; and of Cynthius in Delos, the home of both Apollo and Diana. Of the mountains of Italy we hear much less. These were beautiful, but they were not sacred to the gods of his poetry. He mentions Mount Vulture, near his native town, in whose woods he was lost when a boy ; Algidus, a mountain not far from Rome, famous for its cool breezes ; also he sings of the snow-capped peak of Soracte in Tuscany, and of a small mountain near the Sabine Farm, Lucretelis, upon whose slopes Faunus looked kindly. The seas on which his personae sailed were the Mediterra- nean and some of its subdivisions, the Aegean, the Adriatic, the Tyrrhene, the latter l5ring between Italy and Corsica ; the Myrtoan and Icarian, which were parts of the Aegean ; and the Atlantic, the Black and the Caspian seas. Of islands he sings more often of those of Greece, in the Aegean sea. Cythera and Cyprus, each having a temple to Venus; Crete, Rhodes and Lesbos, famous islands in history and poetry; and the shining Cyclades, all were important to Horace. Horace was a poet to understand whom, in the original, geography is almost as necessary as ability to read Latin. Fortunately his translators often leave out local references, and Horace in English does not require a more extensive knowledge of classical geography than can be gathered from a casual study of the maps here published. C. L. D. THE ADMONITIONS OF HORACE An industrious compiler has collected a thousand sayings of Horace approved of by the wise and learned. This is p>erhaps too much. Horace was wise for his time and in a pagan way ; but his wisdom was only a kind of inspired good sense and like his morality had a narrow range. Yet he spoke words of wis- dom and admonition in apt and striking phrases ; and illustrated them with forceful imagery or applied them in simple tales. There have been many preachers and wise men since his time ; but no one quite fits the mould of Flaccus. Some of his philosophy is scattered through the Odes and other writings which appear in the following pages. We pre- sent him here as a Moralist in what might be called a Mosaic of the Admonitions of Horace, embellished with some of the Emblemata of Otho Vaenius, Antwerp, 1612. In the six- teenth century Horace was ranked as a great preacher as well as a poet and the work of Vaenius, approved by the Church, passed through many editions. The illustrations present Roman life from the standpoint of the Dutch craftsmen of the sixteenth century. Equanimity. Preserve an even mind in arduous times, and in prosperity show no over-weening joy. You live more per- fectly, Licinius, if you take the golden mean, secure from the squalor of the hut and the envy of the palace. Crave not the burdens of office or the cares of riches, — the tall pine is most tossed by gales and lofty towers fall with the heaviest crash. Black care quits not the brazen trireme and sits tight behind the flying horseman. Study how to pass your life most happily; The Admonitions of Horace li whether by seeking honors, or a retired path and a way of life unnoticed. To wonder at nothing is about the only thing, my friend, which can make a man happy and keep him so. The wise man is a fool, the just man unjust, if he follow virtue fur- ther than is sufficient. Counsel to the Young. Listen to wise counsel, young LoUius, and while the blood is clear commit yourself to good courses. The jar v^l long preserve the odor of the wine with which it has been saturated. Brave men are bom of brave men ; the fierce eagle does not beget the unwarlike dove. But education brings out the innate talent and culture strengthens the soul. There is no man so savage that he cannot be soft- ened if he lend to his teacher an attentive ear. Govern the temper, for unless it obeys, it commands. Let young men mould themselves in rough trsuning, to endure hardships, to be fierce horsemen, terrible with their lances to the foes of Rome. It is a sweet and seemly thing to die for one's country; and pitiless death overtakes also the coward youth who flees. Content. See that your lot is fitted to your character, and long not for things you would not know how to enjoy. A modest life suits a modest talent. The more a man denies him- self, the more he will receive from Heaven; its doors are open to those who follow in content the path of Virtue. To-day and To-morrow. Enjoy the present and quite dis- trust the morrow. The wise gods keep in Caligian darkness the events of the future, and smile at mortals who would look beyond. Whatever of pleasant days Fortune shall give you count as so much gain. He will be master of himself and glad, who has the power to say each day, "I have lived." To-mor- row great Jove may overspread the sky with clouds ; but he can not take from me what I've enjoyed. The years fly by, O Postumus, and even piety brings no check to wrinkles or old age. Day displaces day and new moons hasten onward but to /// Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus fade. Pale death knocks with equal foot at the hut of the pauper and the palace of the king. Temperance. Scorn not in your youth delighthil loves and dances. Pile the logs on the fire, O Thaliarchus. bring out the better wine; and leave the rest to the gods. It is sweet peril to follow Bacchus, who binds his brows with the green vine leaves, who discloses the deep designs of the wise, who brings back hope and strength to the troubled, and gives to the poor man horns of might. For them that drink not Heaven makes all things difficult. But keep the temperate lord of wine far from noisy brawls, for Bacchus is the soul of peace as well as war; and thirst turns bitter if indulged without restraint. Country Life. Blest is the man who far from business tills his farm with the paternal oxen. There is no place which sur- passes the peaceful country ; where no care distracts the slum- bers; where the season is mild and a refreshing breeze allays the stinging sun; where the meadows are fairer than Libyan Mosaics; where the limpid stream dances along its winding bed and the home surveys a length of fields. Friendship. Fill the shining tankard, O, Pompey, comrade in troubled days; one may rave a little when a firiend's regained. Would that one might, like a lover, either see not the blemishes of a friend, or else be charmed by them ; sucK charity would make of firiendship a thing more noble than love. I will sing of my friends nothing small, and in no mortal measure chant their praise. Love. Love is as silly as a childish game ; it means war, then peace ; it is changeable as the weather ; it is quite beyond regulation or philosophy. Add blood to fire and stir up with a sword, — this is Love. Religious Observance. The shadow of ancestral crimes will fall on you, O Romans, until you repair the temples, rebuild the shrines and restore the statues of the gods blackened "Nam cur Quae laedunt oculum, festinas demere; si quid ' Est animum, differs curandi tempus in annum!*' Epist. I, 2. How strange is this! if ought the eye offends, You straight remove it and the anguish ends; If ought corrodes the mind, some slight pretence Serves to protract the cure a twelvemonth hence. /// Horace : Quintus Horaiius Flaccus fade. Pale death knocks with equal foot at the hut of the pauper and the palace of the king. Temperance. Scorn not in your youth delightful loves and dances. Pile the logs on the fire, O Thaliarchus, bring out the better wine; and leave the rest to the gods. It is sweet peril to follow Bacchus, who binds his brows with the green vine leaves, who discloses the deep designs of the wise, who brings back hope and strength to the troubled, and gives to the poor man horns of might. For them that drink not Heaven makes all things difficult. But keep the temperate lord of wine far from noisy brawls, for Bacchus is the soul of peace as well as war ; and thirst turns bitter if indulged without restraint. Country Life. Blest is the man who far from business tills his farm with the paternal oxen. There is no place which sur- passes the peaceful country ; where no care distracts the slum- bers; where the season is mild and a refreshing breeze allays the stinging sun; where the meadows are fairer than Libyan Mosaics; where the limpid stream dances along its winding bed and the home surveys a length of fields. Friendship. Fill the shining tankard, O, Pompey, comrade in troubled days; one may rave a little when a hiend's regained. Would that one might, like a lover, either see not the blemishes of a friend, or else be charmed by them ; such charity would make of friendship a thing more noble than love. I will sing of my friends nothing small, and in no mortal measure chant their praise. Love. Love is as silly as a childish game ; it means war, then peace ; it is changeable as the weather ; it is quite beyond regulation or philosophy. Add blood to fire and stir up with a sword, — this is Love. Religious Observance. The shadow of ancestral crimes will fall on you, O Romans, until you repair the temples, rebuild the shrines and restore the statues of the gods blackened "Nam cur Quae laedunt oculum, festlnas demere; si quid Est animum, differs curandi tempus in annum!* Epist. I, 2. How strange is this! if ought the eye offends. You straight remove it and the anguish ends; If ought corrodes the mind, some slight pretence Serves to protract the cure a twelvemonth hence. The Admonitions of Horace liii with smoke. It is because you own yourselves lower than the gods, that you rule the world. From them is every beginning and to them we ascribe every end. The wronged gods have sent us many woes. I have been a scant worshipper, but I retrace my steps and follow the course 1 had forsaken. God brings what is hidden into light and changes the highest to the lowest ; he is ruler over kings and shakes the universe with his nod. With the same power he smooths the sea and tosses the trees in the winds. Yet, — 1 have learned that the gods sit above us securely, and if nature causes anything wonderful to happen, they do not send it down from the roof of Heaven. Riches. Boundless riches will not keep the mind from fear or the head from the snare of death. There is no gloss to buried gold, it has no value except in honorable use. The covetous should have the largest dose of the medicine for mad- ness. Numicius the miser was so rich that he could not count his gold and had to measure it like grain ; and so mean he lived like a slave ; yet one night his mistress cleft him through with an ax. It is the same whether you present all your substance to a greedy gulf or never use your savings. You can pay court to the rich ; and if it will do good to yourself or your family, go to the rich man's dinner. If Diogenes knew how to associate with princes he would despise his vegetables. But one need not be obsequious. Freedom and poverty are better than slavery and riches. Gluttony drags the soul into the mire. If you indulge your lust invade not the home. Avoid envy, Sicilian tyrants never invented a worse torture. Virtue. Men work harder to accomplish evil deeds than to do good. They worry over their bodies more than over their souls. If you have a sore eye, you run to an oculist ; if your mind is wrong you put off the cure. If you are not content, your soul is the thing at fault. It is the sky, not the mind, they change who speed across the main. Who ever fled his country, — and himself as well ? Give up your toys to study liv Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus virtue, that you may learn to live aright. Avoid doing wrong, not for fear of punishment, but for love of virtue. There are hypocrites who pray aloud to Apollo in the Temple, but at the same time whisper a prayer to the goddess of theft for protec- tion. The upright man and fixed of purpose is not shaken by public clamor or moved by imperious tyrants or the mighty hand of thundering Jove. Virtue opens heaven to her followers and with soaring wing spurns the vulgar rabble and the misty earth. You begin to be virtuous when you avoid vice, and you begin to be wise when you cease to be foolish. The Roman citizens say: "Gold first then virtue;" but the boys at the games say: "If you act aright you will be a king." The children's ditty is better than the law of the market place. Be this your wall of brass : to feel no guilt within, no fault to turn you pale. The virtuous man needs no bows and arrows to preserve him from his enemies, for a god protects him. Our country and our friends alike expect to find in us love for our parents, brothers and guests, and right service as public men. C. L. D. I i« rr TO HIS FRIENDS: URGING THE ROMAN YOUTH TO VIRTUE Rome! teach thine offspring to sustain Stern poverty: to wield the spear, To spur the war-horse o'er the plain, And smite the Parthian foe with fear : To watch beneath the frosty skies ; To face the tempest, and endure; The bed and banquet to despise. In doubt and danger still secure. The royal maid, the princely dame. Shall mark him from the rampart high. Shall track his course thro* blood and flame. And thus in faltering accents sigh : — " My King, my gracious Lord, forbear To brave yon warrior's fatal wrath ; Untrained to warlike arms, beware. Nor cross the raging lion's path." Blessed who for his country dies — Blessed and honoured ! Pitiless Death Spares not the coward slave who flies. The trembling limbs, the panting breath. Virtue self-centered, fearless, free. Shines with a lustre all her own, Nor takes, nor yields, her dignity When fickle nations smile or frown; Horace : Quintus Horaiius Flaccus Through realms unknown she wings her flight, Spuming the sordid clay beneath, And lifts into celestial light The spirit that has conquered death. Silence and secrecy, not less The Gods reward : never may he Who dares their mandates to transgress Revealing Ceres' mystery Abide beneath my roof, or steer My fragile shallop o*er the main; Jove hurls his bolts, by law severe. Alike on guiltless and profane. Justice with silent footstep slow, With steadfast eye, but halting gait. The felon tracks, and on his brow Stamps the remorseless doom of Fate. Ode III, 2 De Vere I I Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. It is sweet and glorious to die for our country. THE SPEECH OF JUNO. This Ode was written shortly after Augustus had been de- clared Emperor, A. U. C. 727, when Horace was 38. It is sometimes called "The Speech of Juno,"— or " The Apotheosis of Romulus". After a prelude the Poet introduces an assembly of the gods before whom Romulus appears and asks for a seat among the Immortals. Juno, Troy's old enemy, rises and makes a speech declaring the wickedness of the Trojans and the greatness of Rome, and asserts that it will last as long as Roman virtues last, and as long as the Capitol remains in Italy. Poems of Patriotism 5 A plan for removing the Capitol had been discussed at Rome during the troubled times previous to and following Caesar's death. One purpose of the Ode is thought to be to protest against this plan. The righteous man, of purpose fixed and strong. Scorns the depraved commands Of angry Faction clamouring for wrong. Nor fears the Despot's frown. Not Auster*s roar Whitening the restless wave on Adria's shore. Not the red thunder hurled From Jove's avenging hands Can shake his solid will. Unmoved he stands Erect amid the ruins of a world. Thus rose Alcides to the flaming skies : Thus Leda's son to those Divine abodes Where, couched among th' Immortals, Caesar lies Drinking with purpled lip the nectar of the Gods. Thus Bacchus clomb to Jove's Olympian throne Drawn by wild tigers, ivy garlanded : Thus, strong and true, Rome's mighty founder sped, Wafted by steeds of Mars to Heaven, not Acheron. He claimed a throne among the Gods. They sate Silent ; then Juno rose, " Troy met her fate. Her God-built walls down-crumbled into dust By a strange woman and a judge unjust ; Condemned by me and by Minerva's hate Since first that King, false to his kingly word, Abjured his oath, withheld the pledged reward. " Where now the glittering grace that shone From Paris on th' adulterous Queen? : 6 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Where now the lustrous sheen Sparkling from those false eyes her faithless heart that won? Where Priam's perjured house, Hector its stay ? — How oft his arm triumphant broke the Greek array ! " Dead is that ten years' war Kindled by feuds of ours : its sound is heard no more. No more my anger rages : I resign To Mars this scion of a hated line, Son of Troy's Priestess. Founder of great Rome Enter, 'mong peaceful Gods to find a home And quaff 'mid starbright skies the nectar juice Divine. " So long as 'twixt his Rome and llion roll The billows of a boundless main Let Trojan exiles unmolested reign; Let Rome's proud Capitol Unshaken stand, while herds insulting roam O'er Priam's grave, and while in Paris' tomb Wolves hide their cubs. So long Shall Roman valour, steadfast, strong. Give laws to Media's conquered hosts, And rule the Midland Ocean's coasts. And those far lands where fertile cornfields smile Fed by the waters of the swelling Nile. " Great Nation ! that canst spurn The Gold that in Earth's bosom hidden lies Poems of Patriotism 7 (Wisely there hid) unlike the base who turn To uses vile of sordid avarice The temple's spoil, fearless your hosts send forth To India's sun-scorched wastes, or the cloud-mantled North. " Strong sons of Rome, to you my law 1 speak. Trust not your fortunes or your strength ; nor seek. Blinded by filial piety, once more The sentenced walls of llion to restore. If e'er again 'neath some ill-omened star She rises, I, Jove's sister, I, his wife, 'Gainst her will lead the armies of my war. Closing in new-lit flames her new-lit life. Should Phoebus thrice rebuild each wall, each gate. Thrice shall my Argives raze them to the plain, Each widow thrice, captive and desolate. Bewail her orphaned babes, her husband slain." Cease, sportive Lyre ! — not thine Mated with Gods their counsels to explore. Fold, Muse of mine, those wings too frail to soar. Nor mock with mortal lips the voice Divine. Ode III 3 De Vert 'Justum et ienacem propositi virum, non Mente quatit solida, , . Nee fulminantis magna manus Jovis ;" The upright man who's steady to his Trust inflexible to 111 and obstinately just Not e'en the red right arm of thundering Jove The stubborn virtue of his soul can move. i I i 8 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus PART OF THE SAME ODE. ANOTHER VERSION The man I of firm and noble soul No factious clamours can controul; No threatening tyrant's darkling brow Can swerve him from his just intent : Gales the warring, waves which plough, By Auster on the billows spent, To curb the Adriatic main, Would awe his fix'd, determined mind in vain. Aye, and the red right arm of Jove, Hurtling his lightnings from above. With all his terrors there unfurFd, He would, unmov'd, unaw*d, behold ; . The flames of an expiring world, . j^ain in crashing chaos rolFd, I Jn vast promiscuous ruin hurl'd, . Might light his glorious funeral pile: Still dauntless *midst the wreck of earth he'd smile. Ode III, 3 Bynon TO AUGUSTUS. A proposal was made to the Senate to ransom the . Roman soldiers who had been taken captive by the Parthians. . .Horace opposes this. He introduces a speech by Regulus and citea the conduct of that noble, who gave up his life for his country. The Ode is ranked among Horace's best; but does not make a ready appeal to the modem reader. Jove rules the skies, his thunder wielding: Augustus Caesar, thou on earth shalt.be AUGUSTUS From an Antique Bust 8 Horace : Quintas Horatius Flaccus PART OF THE SAME ODE. ANOTHER VERSION The man of firm and noble soul No factious clamours can controul; No threatening tyrant's darkling brow Can swerve him from his just intent : Gales the warring waves which plough, By Auster on the billows spent, To curb the Adriatic main, Would awe his fix'd, determined mind in vain. Aye< and the red right arm of Jove, Hurtling his lightnings from above. With all his terrors there unfurFd, He would, unmov'd, unaw'd, behold ; - The flames of an expiring world, . Again in crashing chaos roll'd, 1 In vast promiscuous ruin hurPd, Might light his glorious funeral pile : Still dauntless 'midst the wreck of earth he*d smiJe. Ode III, 3 Bynon TO AUGUSTUS. A proposal was made to the Senate to ransom the . Roman soldiers who had been taken captive by the Parthians. . .Horace opposes this. He introduces a speech by Regulus and cites the conduct of that noble, who gave up his life for his country. The Ode is ranked among Horace's best; but does not make a ready appeal to the modern reader. Jove rules the skies, his thunder wielding : Augustus Caesar, thou on earth shaltbe AUGUSTUS From an Antique Bust Poems of Patriotism 9 Enthroned a present Deity ; Britons and Parthian hordes to Rome their proud necks yielding. Woe to the Senate that endures to see (O fire extinct of old nobility !) The soldier dead to honour and to pride Ingloriously abide Grey-headed mate of a Barbarian bride, Freeman of Rome beneath a Median King : Woe to the land that fears to fling Its curse, not ransom, to the slave Forgetful of the shield of Mars, Of Vesta's unextinguished flame, Of Roman garb, of Roman name ; The base unpitied slave who dares From Rome his forfeit life to crave : in vain ; — Immortal Jove still reigns on high : Still breathes in Roman hearts the Spirit of Liberty. With warning voice of stem rebuke Thus Regulus the Senate shook : He saw, prophetic, in far days to come, The heart corrupt, and future doom of Rome. " These eyes, " he cried, " these eyes have seen Unbloodied swords from warriors torn. And Roman standards nailed in scorn On Punic shrines obscene ; Have seen the hands of freeborn men Wrenched back and bound ; th' unguarded gate ; Mi^BxiiMiiMiiaiiWHiOiii I { II! / Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus And fields our war laid desolate By Romans tilled again. " What ! will the gold-enfranchised slave Return more loyal and more brave? Ye heap but loss on crime! The wool that Cretan dyes disdain Can ne'er its virgin hue regain : And valour fallen and disgraced Revives not in a coward breast Its energy sublime. "The stag released from hunter's toils From the dread sight of man recoils. Is he more brave than when of old He ranged his forest free? Behold in him your soldier ! He has knelt To faithless foes ; he too has felt The knotted cord; and crouched beneath Fear, not of shame, but death. " He sued for peace tho' vowed to war : Will such men, girt in arms once more. Dash headlong on the Punic shore? No ! they will buy their craven lives With Punic scorn and Punic gyves. O mighty Carthage, rearing high Thy fame upon our infamy, A city, aye, an empire built On Roman ruins, Roman guilt ! " From the chaste kiss, and wild embrace Of wife and babes he turned his face, Poems of Patriotism 1 1 A man self-doomed to die; Then bent his manly brow, in scorn. Resolved, relentless, sad, but stern, To earth, all silently; Till counsel never heard before Had nerved each wavering Senator; Till flushed each cheek with patriot shame. And surging rose the loud acclaim; — Then, from his weeping friends, in haste. To exile and to death he passed. He knew the tortures that Barbaric hate Had stored for him. Exulting in his fate With kindly hand he waved away The crowds that strove his course to stay. He passed from all, as when in days of yore. His judgment given, thro' client throngs he pressed In glad Venafrian fields to seek his rest, Or Greek Tarentum on the Southern shore. Ode III, 5 De Vere TO THE ROMANS This Ode is an eloquent and bitter denunciation of the luxury and degeneracy of the age, which Horace ascribes to the neglect of religion. He refers to the heredity of degeneration. The shadow of ancestral guilt shall fall, Roman ! on thee and thine. Till thou rebuild'st the temple's crumbling wall And rear' St again within the shrine Those marble Gods smoke-stained, those effigies Divine. 12 Horace: Quintus H or alius Flaccus Jove gives us power to rule while we confess His rule supreme o'er all. *Twas thus we rose: As justly shall they fall who dare transgress That law eterne. Innumerable woes Wronged Gods have sent us. Twice Monaeses* spear Shattered our ill-starred legions' mad career, And twice Barbarians laughed in scorn When flashed from Parthian torques rich gems from Romans torn; Fleets manned by Egypt's dusky hosts Shadowed our Latian coasts : Once, rent by factious rage, Rome naked lay Before the Dacians' shafts an unresisting prey. Fertile of sin a race accurst Defiled the sacred hearth and home ; From that foul source the tempest burst That sapped the strength of Rome. The arts depraved of guilty life Corrupt the maid : the faithless wife Betrays her own, her husband's fame ; — Falser than all he traffics in her shame ! Not from such parents spring Soldiers like those who drave Afric's fierce son o'er the blood-darkened wave. — Who smote great Pyrrhus and the Syrian King. Such were the men of old, a hardy brood. Trained from their youth to wield the Sabine spade. To fetch the fagot from the neighbouring wood Obedient to a mother's voice severe. "Damnosa quid non imminuit dies! Aetas parentum, pejor avis, tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos, Progeniem viliosiorcm." Ode III. 6. Time alters all things in his pace. Each Century new Vices owns; Our Fathers bore an impious Race And we shall have more wicked Scms. 12 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Jove gives us power to rule while we confess His rule supreme o'er all. *Twas thus we rose: As justly shall they fall who dare transgress That law eterne. Innumerable woes Wronged Gods have sent us. Twice Monaeses* spear Shattered our ill-starred legions' mad career, And twice Barbarians laughed in scorn When flashed from Parthian torques rich gems from Romans torn; Fleets manned by Egypt's dusky hosts Shadowed our Latian coasts : Once, rent by factious rage, Rome naked lay Before the Dacians' shafts an unresisting prey. Fertile of sin a race accurst Defiled the sacred hearth and home ; From that foul source the tempest burst That sapped the strength of Rome. The arts depraved of guilty life Corrupt the maid : the faithless wife Betrays her own, her husband's fame; — Falser than all he traffics in her shame ! Not from such parents spring Soldiers like those who drave Afric's fierce son o'er the blood-darkened wave, — Who smote great Pyrrhus and the Syrian King. Such were the men of old, a hardy brood. Trained from their youth to wield the Sabine spade, To fetch the fagot from the neighbouring wood Obedient to a mother's voice severe, "Damnosa quid non imminuit dies! Aetas parentum, pejor avis, tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos, Progeniem vitiosiorem." Ode III, 6. Time alters all things in his pace. Each Century new Vices owns; Our Fathers bore an impious Race And we shall have more wicked Sons. Poems of Patriotism 13 What time the sun Threw from far-distant hills a lengthened shade, Lifting the yoke from the o'er-laboured steer, Saying, as sank his orb, " Rejoice, thy task is done." An age degenerate and base Piles, as it wastes, disgrace upon disgrace. We, nursed in crime, in folly bred, Transmit our fathers* taint, the subtle poison spread, Beget a progeny still worse. And heap on endless years an ever-deepening curse. Ode III. 6 De Vere '* Damnosa quid non, imminuit dies?'* How Time doth in its flight debase Whale'er it finds ! *' Aeias parentum, peior avis, tulit Nos nequiores, mox daiuros Progeniem vitiosiorem.** Our fathers* race. More deeply versed in ill Than were their sires, hath borne us yet More wicked, duly to beget A race more vicious still. AGAINST THE TURBULENCE AND DEGEN- ERACY OF THE PEOPLE This Ode is one of serious and impassioned protest agsunst the turbulence and license of the People, and the covetous- ness and the degeneracy of the Rich. The first three stanzas, which we omit, deal with the familiar idea that money can not secure one from death and that they have a better lot who lead the pastoral life and possess the homely virtues of kindness, charity and domestic love. The poet then appeals to the Roman people: X 14 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Breathes there a Patriot brave and strong Would right his erring country's wrong, Would heal her wounds, and quell her rage? Let him with noble daring first Curb Faction's tyranny accurst! So may some future age Grave on his bust with pious hand " The Father of his native land : " Virtue yet living we despise, Adore it lost, and vanished from our eyes. Cease, idle wail! The sin unpunished, what can sighs avail? How vain the laws by man ordained If Virtue's law be unsustained! A second sin is yours! The sand Of Araby, Gaetulia's sun-scorched land. The desolate realms of Hyperborean ice. Call with one voice to wrinkled Avarice: He hears: he fears nor toil, nor sword, nor sea. He shrinks from no disgrace but virtuous poverty. Forth! 'mid a shouting nation bring Your precious gems, your wealth untold ; Into the seas, or Temple, fling Your vile unprofitable gold. Romans! Repent, and from within Eradicate your dariing sin: Repent ! and from your bosom tear The sordid shame that festers there. "Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae, Intaminatis fulget honoribus." Ode III, 2. True Virtue thus not knowing base Retreat With pure untainted Honors shineth fair. 14 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Breathes there a Patriot brave and strong Would right his erring country's wrong, Would heal her wounds, and quell her rage? Let him with noble daring first Curb Faction's tyranny accurst! So may some future age Grave on his bust with pious hand " The Father of his native land : " Virtue yet living we despise, Adore it lost, and vanished from our eyes. Cease, idle wail! The sin unpunished, what can sighs avail? How vain the laws by man ordained If Virtue's law be unsustained! A second sin is yours! The sand Of Araby, Gaetulia's sun-scorched land. The desolate realms of Hyperborean ice, Call with one voice to wrinkled Avarice: He hears: he fears nor toil, nor sword, nor sea. He shrinks from no disgrace but virtuous poverty. Forth! mid a shouting nation bring Your precious gems, your wealth untold ; Into the seas, or Temple, fling Your vile unprofitable gold. Romans! Repent, and from withm Eradicate your darling sin: Repent ! and from your bosom tear The sordid shame that festers there. "Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae, Intaminatis fulget honoribus." Ode III 2. True Virtue thus not knowing base Retreat With pure untainted Honors shineth fair. i Poems of Patriotism Bid your degenerate boys to learn In rougher schools a lesson stern: 15 The high-born youth mature in vice Pursues his vain and reckless course, Rolls the Greek hoop, or throws the dice. But shuns the chase, and dreads the horse : His perjured sire, with jealous care, Heaps riches for his worthless heir. Despised, disgraced, supremely blest Cheating his partner, friend and guest. Uncounted stores his bursting coffers fill. But something unpossessed is ever wanting still. Ode III, 24 DeVere " Virtutem incolumem odimus, Suhlatam ex oculis quaerimus invidi." Virtue yet living we despise, Adore it lost, and vanished from our eyes. **Quid leges sine morihus Vanae proficiunt ?*' What avail laws without Righteousness ? TO JULUS ANTONIUS : IN PRAISE OF PINDAR Horace is supposed to have written an epic poem, and his friend Julus advises him to celebrate the deeds of Augustus in the manner of Pindar. Horace in the present Ode replies, acclaiming the genius of the Greek poet, but saying that he has not Pindar's talent. He suggests to Julus Antonius to try his hand at singing Caesar's praise. That part of this Ode which celebrates Pindar is, says De Vere, one of the best specimens of Horace's style, and De Vere has rendered it beautifully. / 6 Horace : Quinius Horatius Flaccus The bard who Pindar's lyre would emulate Like Icarus on waxen pinions tries To scale the infinite skies ; He shares the boaster's fate, Thro' blazing ether drops, and in mid-ocean dies. As some great river, issuing from the snows Of peaks far distant, thundering downward flows. And, swoln by mountain streams or cloud-born rain Pours its full volume broadening o'er the plain, — Such Pindar's song. To him, to him of right belong Apollo's laurels, and to him alone ; Whether in strains as yet unknown And numbers loosed from law he flings Abroad his daring Dithyrambs, or sings Of Gods, and Kings who by just doom subdued The Centaur race, and quenched Chimera's flame in blood. Or grants to those whose wreathed forehead wears Victorious palms at Elis won. Wrestler, or runner, athlete, charioteer, A gift more precious than the sculptured stone. One leaflet from his own bright bays, A nation's worship and a Poet's praise. At times in softer strain Waking the lyre again He bids the sweet and solemn chords to mourn The bridegroom from his loved one torn ; Poems of Patriotism 17 His fearless heart, his spotless truth, The golden promise of his youth ; From Orcus rends the expected prize. And wafts the enfranchised spirit to the skies. Large airs from Heaven with strength resistless fill The wings of Dirce's swan. Sublime and free He cleaves the clouds. I, like the bee That on the slope of the Matinian hill Sucks the wild thyme, laboriously By Tibur's woods and Tibur's crystal rill The garnered sweets of Poesy distill. Antonius, thou with bolder hand Shalt strike the harp, and Caesar sing ascending The Capitol, beneath his strong yoke bending Bound to his wheels the fierce Sygambrian band, — Caesar the laurel-crowned, the good, the great. Gift of benignant Gods, and pitying Fate : Shalt sing the public games ordained For Caesar safe, and peace regained, The forum mute, and civil concord won. I, if with feebler lips such strains accord. Will shout aloud " All Hail, thou glorious Sun ! Shine forth on Caesar to his Rome restored ! " Hark ! as he moved, the jubilant sound " lo Triumphe " swells around On clouds of incense borne to summits temple-crowned. Be thine large gifts of votive kine to bring : Mine be a humbler offering. / • ' > TO DELLIUS History paints Deilius as a shameless and treacherous man. He served under Cassius and Brutus, then under Mark Antony; but finally came over to the side of Augus^ps. As he was finally received and "horiored by Caesar and addressed by Horace: perhaps he had some merit. The first verse of this Ode contains the favorite Horatian philosophy about Elquanimity and the certain coming of death. This is followed by a descriptive passage of great beauty. Dryden made a beautiful translation of the Ode, except for the first stanza. This is so flat and puerile that it spoils the reader for the rest. We have sjubstitut^d DeVere's introduction. The Latin lines are miich better than the English at its best. Be mindful thou, when storms of. adverse fate Encompass thee, to meet still unsubdued Their worst with manly fortitude : When Fortune, fickle Deity, Smiles once again, grateful yet unelate Accept the gift, Deilius foredoomed to die. Be thy Lot good, or be it ill. Life ebbs out at the same rate still : Whether with busie Cares opprest, Ydu wear the sullen time away ; Or whether to sweet Ease and Rest, You sometimes give a day; Carelessly laid, , , Underneath a friendly shade By Pines, and Poplars, njixt embraces made; Near a River's sGding Stream, Fetter*d in sleep, bless'd with a Golden Dream. n 34 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Here, here, in this much envied state. Let every Blessing on thee wait ; Bid the Syrian Nard be brought, Bid the Hidden Wine be sought, And let the Roses short-liv*d Flov/er, The smiling Daughter of an Hour, Flourish on thy Brow : Enjoy the very, very now ! While the good Hand of Life is in. While yet the Fatal Sisters spin. A little hence my Friend, and Thou Must into other hands resign Thy Gardens and thy Parks, and all that now Bears the pleasing name of Thine ! Thy Meadows, by whose planted Tides, Silver Tyber gently glides 1 Thy pleasant Houses ; all must go. The Gold that's hoarded in *em too ; A jolly Heir shall set it free. And give th* Imprisoned Monarchs Liberty. Nor matters it, what Figure here. Thou dost among thy Fellow Mortals bear ; How thou wert born, or how begot ; Impartial Death matters it not : With what Titles Thou dost shine. Or who was First of all thy Line : Life's vain amusements ! amidst which we dwell ; Not weighed, nor understood, by the grim God of Hell ! Moralities 35 In the Same Road (alas !) All Travel on ! By All alike, the Same sad Journy must be gone ! Our blended Lots together lie, Mingled in One common Urn ; Sooner or Later out they fly : The fatal Boat then wafts us to the Shore, Whence we never shall return, Never ! — never more ! Ode II y 3 De Vere and Dryden €€ *Aequam memento rebus in arduis Servare mentem." Remember to keep a calm spirit in adverse circumstances. "Qua . . . obliquo lahorat Lympha fugax trepidare rivo. ** Where the swift-flowing stream strives to hasten down its winding channel. The last phrase above has often been quoted to show that Horace was a real poet. **Omnium Versatur uma serius ocius Sors exitura.*' The lots of all are shaken in the urn to come forth sooner or later. TO SALLUST Sallust was a grand-nephew of Sallust the historian, a rich man, in favor with Augustus. The poem contains the scripture injunction : " He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." Proculeius was a Roman of rank, who treated his family kindly. The Ode is not an important one ; but con- tains phrases often quoted. Sallust, no gloss adorns that gold Which lies beneath the jealous mould 36 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Nor doth it shine, save when unrolled For template needs. Renown shall Proculeius know, Who did a father's love bestow On brothers. Now, Fame's trump shall blow. His deathless deeds. If fierce ambition you'll restrain. You'll rule a more enlarged domain Than Libya, the twin Carthage, Spain All fused in one. Dropsy, by self-indulgence grows, Nor will thirst cease, till outward flows The fluid weight, whence sickness shows Its day is done. Though raised to mighty Cyrus' throne, Virtue doth Phrastes crime bemoan. Despite the people, nor doth own Him blest in days ; But deems that man, 'gainst public vote, The fittest king on whom to doat. Whose eye on wealth doth never gloat. Nor turn to gaze. Ode II, 2 Ordronaux t( 'Nullus argento color, . . . Nisi temperaio Spltndeat usu." There is no brilliancy on silver save as it shines from moderate use. "Crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydrops, Nee sitim pellit, nisi causa morbi Fugerit venis, et aquosus albo Corpore languor." Ode II, 2. The Dropsy, by indulgence nursed, Pursues us with increasing Thirst, Till Art expels the Cause, and drains The watery Languor from our Veins. 36 Horace: Quinius Horaiius Flaccus Nor doth it shine, save when unrolled For temprate needs. Renown shall Proculeius know, Who did a father's love bestow On brothers. Now, Fame's trump shall blow. His deathless deeds. If fierce ambition you'll restrain. You'll rule a more enlarged domain Than Libya, the twin Carthage, Spain All fused in one. Dropsy, by self-indulgence grows, Nor will thirst cease, till outward flows The fluid weight, whence sickness shows Its day is done. Though raised to mighty Cyrus' throne, Virtue doth Phrastes crime bemoan. Despite the people, nor doth own Him blest in days; But deems that man, 'gainst public vote. The fittest king on whom to doat, Whose eye on wealth doth never gloat. Nor turn to gaze. Ode II, 2 Ordronaux ''Nullus argento color, . . . Nisi iemperato Splendeat usu. " There is no brilliancy on silver save as it shines from moderate use. "Crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydrops, Nee sitim pellit, nisi causa morbi Fugerit venis, et aquosus albo Corpore languor." Ode II, 2. The Dropsy, by indulgence nursed, Pursues us with increasing Thirst, Till Art expels the Cause, and drains The watery Languor from our Veins. Moralities 37 "Latius regnes avidum domando Spiritum, quam si Libyam remotis Gadibus Jungas. " You rule more widely by controlling a covetous spirit, than if the whole world obeyed you. I TO LICINIUS MURENA Licinius was one of the leading citizens of Rome and a brother-in-law of Maecenas. He did not take the safe course in life here advised. He conspired against Augustus and was put to death. This was later. This Ode is called "Incom- parable " by the sympathetic critics of Horace. It has been done into English with wonderful skill by Cowper. The poem is full of maxims ; though they did Licinius no good, and his career justifies the appended reflections of Cowper. Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach. So shalt thou live beyond the reach Of adverse fortune's power; Not always tempt the distant deep. Nor always timorously creep Along the treacherous shore. He that holds fast the golden mean, And lives contentedly between The little and the great, Feels not the wants that pinch the poor. Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, Embittering all his state. The tallest pines feel most the power Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower Comes heaviest to the ground; The bolts that spare the mountain's side i I 38 Horace: Quintus Horaiius Flaccus His cloud-capt eminence divide, And spread the ruin round. The well-inform'd philosopher Rejoices with a wholesome fear. And hopes in spite of pain ; If winter bellow from the north, Soon the sweet Spring comes dancing forth. And Nature laughs again. What if thine heaven be overcast. The dark appearance will not last ; Expect a brighter sky. The God that strings the silver bow. Awakes sometimes the Muses too, And lays his arrows by. If hindrances obstruct thy way, Thy magnanimity display. And let thy strength be seen : But oh ! if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale. Take half thy canvas in. Ode II, 10 Cowper A Reflection on the Foregoing Ode And is this all ? Can Reason do no more Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore ? Sweet moralist ! afloat on life's rough sea, The Christian has an art unknown to thee : He holds no parley with unmanly fears ; Where Duty bids he confidently steers. Faces a thousand dangers at her call. And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all. Cowper /'f i Moralities 39 *'Saepius Oentis agitatur ingens Pinus." The tall pine is more often stirred by the winds. ''Non, si male nunc, et olim Sic erit.** If things are now ill, they will not always be so. "Neque semper arcum Tendit A polios Apollo is not always bending his bow. TO POSTUMUS It is strange that a cheerful and good-natured man like Horace should dwell so often on the inevitable approach of age and death. But he is always brief, and always treats the subject in a new way. Dryden has translated this Ode and made of it an elaborate funeral hymn. We prefer DeVere's version. The original is full of references to the more unpleasant characters in Hell. Postumus does not seem to have been a person of importance. Alas, my Postumus, our years Glide silently away. No tears. No loving orisons repair The wrinkled cheek, the whitening hair That drop forgotten to the tomb: Pluto's inexorable doom Mocks at thy daily sacrifice : Around his dreary kingdom lies That fatal stream whose arms infold The giant race accurst of old; All, all alike must cross its wave. The king, the noble, and the slave. In vain we shun the battle roar. And breakers dashed on Adria's shore: 40 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Vainly we flee in terror blind The plague that walketh on the wind : The sluggish river of the dead, Cocytus, must be visited, The Danaid*s detested brood. Foul with their murdered husbands*' blood. And Sisyphus with ghastly smile Pointing to his eternal toil. All must be left ; thy gentle wife. Thy home, the joys of rural life: And when thy fleeting days are gone Th* ill-omened cypresses alone Of all thy fondly cherished trees Shall grace thy funeral obsequies, Cling to thy loved remains, and wave Their mournful shadows o'er thy grave. A lavish, but a nobler heir Thy hoarded Caecuban shall share. And on the tessellated floor The purple nectar madly pour. Nectar more worthy of the halls Where pontiffs hold high festivals. Ode II, 14 DeVere Moralities 41 *'Eheu, fugacts, Poslume, Postume, Labuntur annu* Alas, the fleeting years glide by, Postumus, O, Postumus. **Linquencla tellus, et domus, et placens Uxor. '* , Lands, home and beloved wife must all be left. TO GROSPHUS "Horace, in this Ode, proceeds upon the Principles of the Epicurean Philosophy, and represents Tranquility of Mind, and an ELxemption from irregular Passions, as the highest Degree of Happiness a Man can possibly arrive at." Thus speaks Davidson. Grosphus, to whom the poem was written, was a Knight and a friend of Horace. Ease is the weary merchant's prayer, Who ploughs by night the Aegean flood. When neither moon nor stars appear. Or faintly glimmer through the cloud. For ease the Mede with quiver graced. For ease the Thracian hero sighs; Delightful ease all pant to taste, A blessing which no treasure buys. For neither gold can lull to rest, Nor all a Consul's guard beat off The tumults of a troubled breast, The cares that haunt a gilded roof. Happy the man whose table shows A few clean ounces of old plate; No fear intrudes on his repose, No sordid wishes to be great. Poor short-lived things ! what plans we lay ! Ah, why forsake our native home ; 42 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus To distant climates speed away? For self sticks close where'er we roam. Care follows hard, and soon overtakes The well-rigg'd ship, the warlike steed ; Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes — Not the wind flies with half her speed. From anxious fears of future ill Guard well the cheerful, happy now ; Gild even your sorrows with a smile; No blessing is unmix'd below. Thy neighing steeds and lowing herds, Thy numerous flocks around thee graze, And the best purple Tyre affords Thy robe magnificent displays. On me indulgent Heaven bestow'd A rural mansion, neat and small; This lyre; — and as for yonder crowd — The happiness to hate them all. Ode II, 16 Cowper *' Patriae quis exul Se quoque fugit ? " Who, an exile from this country, ELscapes himself also? '* Nihil est ah omni Parte heatum.*' Nothing is blessed in every point. Moralities 43 TO ASINIUS POLLIO Pollio was a successful warrior serving under Julius Caesar ; but he retired from active service and became best known as an orator, historian and poet. He was, perhaps, the most eminent of Horace's friends. Macleane, usually so frigid, shows a little more warmth over this piece, as well for its poetic beauty as for its moralities. The poem is an expression of a high type of religious feeling and philosophy of life. It incul- cates, says De Vere, reverence, submission, frugality, industry and resignation. Such announcement need not frighten away the modem pueros virginesque. It has beautiful descriptive passages, and the translator has put it into eloquent and inspiring language. Parts of this poem have been done so well by Cowley that we print them also. Away, ye herd profane ! Silence ! let no unhallow'd tongue Disturb the sacred rights of song, Whilst 1, the High Priest of the Nine For youths and maids alone entwine A new and loftier strain. Nations before their Monarchs bow; Jove, who from Heaven the giants hurled, Rules over kings, and moves the world With the majestic terrors of his brow. Follies perverse of mortal life ! Insane ambition, futile strife ! One vainly brags a happier skill His vines to range, his glebes to till ; Another boasts his nobler name. 44 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus His client throngs, his purer fame : Poor fools, inexorable Fate Deals equal law to small and great, Shaking the urn from which allotted fly Joy, pain, life, death, despair and victory. To him above whose impious head Th* avenging sword impends, Sicilian feasts no joy impart ; Nor bird, nor lute, nor minstrel art His vigil charms. Upon his bed No healing dew of innocent sleep descends. Sleep hovers with extended wing Above the roof where Labour dwells ; Or where the river murmuring Ripples beneath the beechen shade; Or where in Tempe's dells No sound but Zephyr's breath throbs through the sylvan glade. The humble man who nought requires Save what sufficed his frugal sires Laughs at the portents vain Of fierce Arcturus* sinking star. Or rising Haedus ; sees afar Unmoved the raging main; Content though farms their fruits deny, Though shattered vineyards prostrate lie. Though floods and frost the fields despoil, Or hot suns rend the arid soil. Contented still to live and toil. Moralities 45 The lord of wide domains Unsated still his ample bound disdains. And through the bosom of the deep Diives the huge mole, down-flinging heap on heap. The finny race behold the new-born land Amazed, see towers arise, and fields expand. And 'mid his hireling crew th' usurper stand. Proudly he stands ; but at his side Terror still dogs the steps of pride : Behind the horseman sits black Care, And o'er the brazen trireme bends Despair. Not marble from the Phrygian mine. Nor robes star-bright, Falemian wine. Nor Achaemenian balm, Can soothe the weary heart opprest. Or still the tumult of the breast With one brief moment's calm. Then, wherefore change my Sabine home, Where Envy dwells not, life is free. For pillared gate, and lofty dome. And the dull load of luxury? Ode III. I Dc Vert *'Post equitem sedet atra Cura.** Black Care sits behind the horseman. **Destrictus ensis cui super impia Cervice pendet, non Siculae dapes Dulcem elahorahunt saporem.** Not even Sicilian banquets have a pleasant savour for the wicked man over whose head hangs a naked sword. \i 46 Horace : Quintus Horaiius Flaccus ■^M^^!^' PASSAGES FROM THE SAME ODE. COWLEY'S VERSION DEATH Ev'n so in the same land, Poor weeds, rich com, gay flowers, together stand ; Alas! death mows down all with an impartial hand: And all ye men, whom greatness does so please, Ye feast, 1 fear, like Damocles: If ye your eyes could upwards move, (But ye, 1 fear, think nothing is above,) Ye would perceive by what a little thread The sword still hangs over your head: No tide of wine would drown your cares; No mirth or music over-noise your fears: The fear of death would you so watchful keep. As not t' admit the image of it, Sleep. SLEEP Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces. And yet so humble too, as not to scorn The meanest country cottages : " His poppy grows among the com." The halcyon Sleep will never build his nest In any stormy breast. 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in their mind ; Darkness but half his work will do : 'Tis not enough ; he must find quiet too. TO CALLIOPE This is Horace's longest Ode, and ranks with his best. Horace himself apparently wished it to represent the highest flight of his genius. The poet announces himself as a favorite of the Muses, who saved his life as a child and inspire him now. He portrays the victory of Jove over the Titans, by the help and counsel of the other wise gods, and proclaims the Z o CQ CO o X u z U] X o X H (0 u) u z UJ O 2 ^ CO D Z > z < H Z O m < Z H UJ D z o CO H X H Z o /^ 46 Horace : Quinius Horalius Flaccus PASSAGES FROM THE SAME ODE. COWLEY'S VERSION DEATH Ev'n so in the same land. Poor weeds, rich com, gay flowers, together stand; Alas ! death mows down all with an impartial hand : And all ye men, whom greatness does so please. Ye feast, 1 fear, like Damocles: If ye your eyes could upwards move, (But ye, I fear, think nothing is above,) Ye would perceive by what a little thread The sword still hangs over your head: No tide of wine would drown your cares; No mirth or music over-noise your fears: The fear of death would you so watchful keep. As not t' admit the image of it. Sleep. SLEEP Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces. And yet so humble too, as not to scorn The meanest country cottages : " His poppy grows among the corn." The halcyon Sleep will never build his nest In any stormy breast. 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in their mind ; Darkness but half his work will do : 'Tis not enough ; he must find quiet too. TO CALLIOPE This is Horace's longest Ode, and ranks with his best. Horace himself apparently wished it to represent the highest flight of his genius. The poet announces himself as a favorite of the Muses, who saved his life as a child and inspire him now. He portrays the victory of Jove over the Titans, by the help and counsel of the other wise gods, and proclaims the z o: o o CQ a en u < <: ^ 2 bl u^ X < ^ a: H CO O q X J UJ ui U re '^. UJ O X CO ^ < % td O X ^M c/) z D < Z 2 > o cc % < CO UJ s z 1- , 2 UJ O a: rO D H H UJ J Qfi O O > bJ Z X 2 % I Moralities 47 truth that Force is useless without Wisdom to guide it. The application of this doctrine was being made by Augustus, who is thus indirectly praised. Calliope, the Muse of Poetry, was the eldest and the Queen of the Muses. Horace makes here many references to localities in which he lived and where he was bom, and he introduces his important Deities: Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom; Juno, Goddess of the Household; Vulcan, a god of Industry; and Apollo, god of Light and of Poetry. The poem is apparently disconnected, but not really so. To indicate the different themes we have grouped certain stanzas together. Descend from Heaven, Calliope, and bring The long-drawn breath of thy melodious flute, Or the wild throbbings of Apollo's lute; Or with uplifted voice th* heroic anthem sing I Is this some phantom sound that mocks mine ear? — 'Tis she, the Muse ! I hear, 1 hear The voice Divine. Methinks I rove Listening her song within some sacred grove Where through the branches summer breezes play And caverned streams in silence glide away. Child of the Muse, on Voltur's steep Beyond Apulia's bounds I strayed: Wearied with sport I sank to sleep : — Doves, dear to legendary lore. From woodlands far fresh flowers and leaflets bore, And hid th' unconscious infant 'neath their shade. In myrtle wrapped, close-veiled in bay. Secure from snakes and savage beasts I lay. 48 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus A fearless babe protected from on high Sleeping the innocent sleep of infancy ; A miracle to all that dwell On Acherontia's mountain citadel, Or rich Ferentum's plain, or Bantia's forest dell. Uplifted by the Muses 1 explore The arduous summits of rude Sabine hills: Yours, and forever yours, 1 gaze On cool Praeneste, and the rills Of Tibur upturned to the noontide rays. And liquid Baiae on the Tyrrhene shore. So dear to you, Immortal Nine, is he. The bard who loves your fountains and your song. Philippics headlong flight bore him unharmed along : You saved him from the falling tree And that Sicilian sea Where Palinurus' cliff blackens the stormy wave. Fearless with you my feet would brave Wild Bosphorus, Assyria's burning sand. Inhospitable Britain, and the land Of warlike Concans nursed on horses* blood, Gelonia*s quivered hordes, and Scythia's frozen flood. Caesar with warlike toils opprest In your Pierian cavern finds his rest. His weary legions citizens once more; While you, rejoicing pour Into his heart mild counsels from on high. Counsels of mercy, peace, and thoughtful piety. Moralities 49 We know how Jove, Who rules with just command Cities and Nations, and the Gods above. The solid Earth, the Seas, and, down beneath. The ghostly throng that haunts the realms of death. Launched the swift thunder from his outstretcht hand, And down to darkness hurled the Titans* impious band. Shuddered the Strong One at the sight One moment, when with giant might That Earth-born generation strove To pile up Pelion on Olympus* height. And scale the Heavens : but what bested Rhaetus, or Mimas, or Typhoeus dread, Porphyrion's towering form the Gods defying, Enceladus who as a spear could wield Uprooted pines ? Amazed they fled Pallas with her echoing shield. Queen Juno, Vulcan burning for the fight, And him who by Castalia lying Bathes in the sacred fount his unbound hair ; That God whose shoulders ever bear The Cynthian bow; Phoebus who honours still Delos, his natal isle, and Lycia's bosky hill. Power, reft of wisdom, falls by its own weight : Wisdom, made one with strength, th' Immortals bless, 50 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus And evermore exalt : they hate Tyrannous force untempered, pitiless. Moralities 51 Diana's virgin dart Drank the dark blood of Orion's heart; And hundred-handed Gyas met his doom Crushed 'neath the darkness of a living tomb. Earth, heaped upon those buried Portents, mourns Her monstrous sons. The insatiate flame Forever under Etna burns. Yet ne'er consumes its quivering frame : Forever feasts the vulture brood Remorseless upon Tityos' blood ; The lover base, Pirithous, complains Forever 'neath the weight of his three hundred chains. Ode III, 4 De Vere **Vis consili expers mole wit sua/* Strength devoid of judgment falls by its own weight. TO MAECENAS Hiis Ode was written when Horace was about forty years old. " It is an invitation from the poet pressing his patron to pay him a visit at his farm." Such is the comment of the prosaic grammarian, Macleane. It is one of Horace's greatest and most varied Odes, and con- tains the Horatian philosophy in its higher mood, says De Vere. Dryden has made a singularly successful translation and we print it, though De Vere's breathes a deeper feeling. Descended of an ancient line That long the Tuscan sceptre swayed. Make haste to meet the generous wine, Whose piercing is for thee delayed: The rosy wreath is ready made: And artful hands prepare The fragrant Syrian oil that shall perfume thy hair. When the wine sparkles from afar, And the well-natur'd friend cries, "Come away f Make haste, and leave thy business and thy care ; No mortal interest can be worth thy stay. Leave for a while thy costly country-seat, And, to be great indeed, forget The nauseous pleasures of the great. Make haste and come! Come and forsake thy cloying store! Thy turret that surveys from high The smoke, and wealth, and noise of Rome, And all the busy pageantry That wise men scom and fools adore. Come, give thy soul a loose, and taste the pleasures of the poor! Sometimes 'tis grateful to the rich to try A short vicissitude and fit of poverty: A savory dish, a homely treat Where all is plain, where all is neat, Without the stately spacious room. The Persian carpet, or the Tyrian loom. Clear up the cloudy foreheads of the great. 52 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus The sun is in the Lion mounted high, The Syrian star Barks from afar, And, with his sultry breath, infects the sky; The ground below is parched, the heavens above us fry; The shepherd drives his fainting flock Beneath the covert of a rock, And seeks refreshing rivulets nigh: The sylvans to their shades retire ; Those very shades and streams new shades and streams require. And want a cooling breeze of wind to fan the raging fire. Thou, what befits the new Lord Mayor, And what the city factions dare. And what the Gallic arms will do, And what the quiver- bearing foe. Art anxiously inquisitive to know: But God has wisely hid from human sight The dark decrees of future fate, And sown their seeds in depth of night. He laughs at all the giddy turns of state. Where mortals search too soon, and fear too late. Enjoy the present smiling hour. And put it out of fortune's power ; The tide of business, like the running stream. Is sometimes high and sometimes low. Moralities A quiet ebb or a tempestuous flow. And always in extreme. 53 Now with a noiseless gentle course It keeps within the middle bed; Anon it lifts aloft the head. And bears down all before it with impetuous force. And trunks of trees come rolling down. Sheep and their folds together drown; Both house and homestead into seas are borne. And rocks are from their old foundations torn. And woods, made thin with winds, their scattered honors mourn. Happy the man, and happy he alone. He who can call today his own : He who, secure within, can say. To-morrow do thy worst, for 1 have lived to-day ! Be fair or foul, or rain or shine. The joys 1 have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power. And what has been has been, and I have had my hour. • Fortune, that with malicious joy, Does man, her slave, oppress, Proud of her office to destroy. Is seldom pleased to bless ; Still various, and unconstant still. But with an inclination to be ill. Promotes, degrades, delights in strife. 54 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus And makes a lottery of life. I can enjoy her while she's kind ; But when she dances in the wind, And shakes the wings, and will not stay, 1 puff the prostitute away : The little or the much she gave is quietly resigned ; Content with poverty, my soul 1 arm ; And virtue, though in rags, vAW keep me warm. What is't to me. Who never sail in her unfaithful sea. If storms arise, and clouds grow black, if the mast split and threaten wreck ? Then let the greedy merchant fear For his ill-gotten gain, And pray to gods, that will not hear, While the debating winds and billows bear His wealth into the main. For me, secure from Fortune's blows. Secure of what 1 cannot lose. In my small pinnace I can sail. Contemning all the blustering roar ; And, running with a merry gale, With friendly stars my safety seek Within some little winding creek. And see the storm ashore. Ode III, 29 Drydtn Moralities 55 **Ille potens sui Laetusque deget, cui licet in diem Dixisse, Vixi/' He shall continue master of himself and happy, to whom it is permitted each day to say, 1 have lived. ''Prudens futuri temporis exiium Caliginosa node premit deus/' God wisely conceals in darkness the things time is to bring forth. B Poems Mainly Personal ..-^^■ll^ 1 1 -:jlj|i^j|jg|^ V ^ .— x^^^^ 1 1 [ 1 i i i TO M. PLANCUS. "This Ode, the Verses of which are veof fine, and therefore not less excellent than any of the former Odes," is Davidsons introduction. The reader here needs his geography. 1 he cities first mentioned are all in Greece. Horace then brmgs the reader to Italy, and expresses his preference for 1 ibur a suburb of Rome. Then follows advice to cheer up. with the illustrative Story of Teucer. . t ^ u- Plancus was a Roman general of varying fortune. He fought under Antony, but later went over to Augustus. He had been of help to Horace, and the poet wrote to cheer him, as he had recently suffered defeat at the hands of the Parthians. Rhodes, Ephesus, or Mytilene, Or Thessaly's fair valley, Or Corinth, placed two gulfs atween, Delphi, or Thebes, suggest the scene Where some would choose to dally ; Others in praise of Athens launch, And poets lyric Grace, with Minerva's olive-branch. Their panegyric. ' { To Juno's city some would roam Argos — of steeds productive; In rich Mycenae make their home. Or find Larissa pleasantsome. Or Sparta deem seductive ; £ / 08 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Me, Tibur's grove charms more than all The brook's bright bosom, And o*er loud Anio's waterfall Fruit-trees in blossom. Plancus ! do blasts forever sweep Athwart the welkin rancoured ? Friend! do the clouds forever weep? Then cheer thee ! and thy sorrows deep Drown in a flowing tankard ! Whether " the camp ! the field ! the sword ! " Be still thy motto. Or Tibur to thy choice afford A sheltered grotto. When Teucer from his father's frown For exile parted. Wreathing his brow with poplar-crown, In wine he bade his comrades drown Their woes light-hearted ; And thus he cried. Whatever betide, Hope shall not leave me : The home a father hath denied Let Fortune give me ! Who doubts or dreads if Teucer lead? Hath not Apollo A new-found Salamis decreed. Old Fatherland shall supersede? Then fearless follow. Invocations to Bacchus 1 09 Ye who could bear ten years your share Of toil and slaughter, Drink ! for our sail to-morrow's gale Wafts o'er the water. Ode /, 7 Mahoney ** Nil desperandum Teucro duce. '* Nothing is hopeless, with Teucer as leader. ** Nunc vino pellite curas : Cras ingens iterabimus aequor. Now with wine chase away care; to-morrow we wi anew the boundless main. ill sail TO THALIARCHUS This is called a Winter Ode, and is supposed to have been written at the country house of Thaliarchus, which was in sight of Mt. Soracte. G)ngreve turned its few verses into a long poem of moderate merit. We print only the second and third of his four stanzas. The paraphrase by H. C. M. is better. We know nothing of Thaliarchus. Diffusive Cold does the whole Earth invade. Like a Disease, through all its Veins 'tis spread, And each late living Stream is num'd and dead. Let's melt the frozen Hours, make warm the Air ; Let cheerful Fires Sol's feeble Beams repair ; Fill the large Bowl with sparkling Wine, Let's drink till our own Faces shine Till we like Suns appear. To light and warm the Hemisphere. [ I ! i i h 110 Horace : Quintus H or alius Flaccus Wine can dispence to all both Light and Heat, They are with Wine incorporate: That powVful Juice, with which no Cold dares mix. Which still is fluid, and no Frost can fix : Let that but in abundance flow. And let it storm and thunder, hail and snow, 'Tis Heav'n's Concern, and let it be The Care of Heaven still for me : These Winds which rend the Oaks and plough the Seas, Great Jove can, if he please. With one commanding Nod appease. Seek not to know to-Morrow's Doom ; That is not ours which is to come. The present Moment's all our store : The next, shou'd Heav*n allow. Then this will be no more: So all our Life is but one Instant Now. Look on each Day you've past To be a mighty Treasure won : And lay each Moment out in haste ; We're sure to live too fast. And cannot live too soon. Youth does a thousand Pleasures bring, Which from decrepit Age will fly ; Sweets that wanton i' th' Bosom of the Spring, In Winter's cold Embraces dye. Ode /, 9 Congreve Invocations to Bacchus III TO THALIARCHUS. ANOTHER VERSION This paraphrase appeared in a daily paper under the title " Horace's Ghost ", and signed " H. C. M." H« Ivellyn's height with snow is white, The forest branches bow and splinter ; No ripple breaks the frozen lakes. Then shut my door on Cold and Winter. On my hearth-dogs pile up the logs Pile high, my boy ; and down your throtde Right freely pour my " thirty-four, " And never spare the old man's bottle. Leave all the rest to Him who best Knows how to still the roar of Ocean ; To calm the wind in wildest mind. And hush the leaflet's lightest motion. • Fear not to stay upon the day, And count for gain each happy pleasure ; Be not above the game of Love, And featly tread the Christmas measure. Let blood run cold when life grows old, Stick now to skate and tennis-racquet. Till westward-ho the sun- wheels go. Then join the sports of frock and jacket. 112 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccm When bright eyes smile, laugh back the while, And find the nook where Beauty lingers ; Steal golden charm from rounded arm, Half-given, half-held, by fairy fingers. Ode 1,9 H.C.M. TO VARUS " The Moral is the very soul of this Piece. In it the Poet recommends the moderate use of Wine," says Davidson. Varus was a poet and friend of Horace and Virgil. " Father Prout" has made a lively "round" of the poem. Since at Tivoli, Varus, you've fixed upon planting Round your villa enchanting. Of all trees, O my friend ! let the vine be the first. On no other condition will Jove lend assistance To keep at a distance Chagrin, and the cares that accompany thirst. No one talks after wine about "battles" or "famine"; But, if you examine, The praises of love and good living are rife. Though once the Centaurs, 'mid potations too ample. Left a tragic example Of a banquet dishonoured by bloodshed and strife, Far removed be such doings from us ! Let the Thracians, Amid their libations. Confound all the limits of right and of wrong ; Invocations to Bacchus 1 13 I never will join in their orgies unholy — 1 never will sully The rites that to ivy-crowned Bacchus belong. Let Cybele silence her priesthood, and calm her Brass cymbals and clamor; Away with such outbursts, uproarious and vain ! Displays often followed by insolence mulish. And confidence foolish. To be seen through and through, like this glass that I drain. Ode I, 18 Mahoney '* Siccis omnia nam dura deus proposuit. *' The gods make everything hard for those who do not drink. TO HIS COMPANIONS-THE CAROUSAL Horace proposes to his friends a banquet without quarrels ; and he intersperses the function with what we now call "chaff". Nothing can surpass the goodnature and dramatic ease of this Ode. Field's translation has some of the spirit, but is far away from the original. The last line is altogether his own. In maudlin spite let Thracians fight Above their bowls of liquor ; But such as we, when on a spree. Should never brawl and bicker ! These angry words and clashing swords Are quite de trop, I'm thinking ; I 114 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus Brace up, my boys, and hush your noise, And drown your wrath in drinking. Aha, *tis fine, — this mellow wine With which our host would dope us ! Now let us hear what pretty dear Entangles him of Opus. I see you blush, nay, comrades hush! Come, friend, though they despise you. Tell me the name of that fair dame, — Perchance 1 may advise you. O wretched youth ! and is it truth You love that fickle lady ? I, doting dunce, courted her once ; Since when, she's reckoned shady ! Ode /, 27 E. Field DE VERE'S VERSION OF THE SAME ODE What! like a boisterous Thracian throng Fight o'er the bowl whose ruby flush Was meant for laughter, love, and song! Cease your mad strife. Ye bring a blush To Liber's brow. Mirth, wit, and wine, And those encircling lights that shine Upon our revels, ill accord With Parthian spear or Median sword. My comrades, hush those cries profane. And press the festal couch again. Invocations to Bacchus 115 Slave, fill a goblet to the brink With strong Falernian. Ere 1 drink Tell me, Megilla's brother, say What loving eyes have sped the dart That pierced, but piercing blessed, thy heart? Thou wilt not > Then 1 fling away The cup unquaffed. Stay, on thy face No tint of conscious shame 1 trace : Whisper it, youth! Ha! wretched boy. Deserving of a worthier joy What power divine, what wizard art. From bonds so vile could loose thy heart ? Now the winged courser that of yore The monster-slaying hero bore Could snatch thee from this guilt, this shame, Charybdis' cruel arms, Chimaera's poison flame. Ode I, 27 DeVere TO TELEPHUS A DRINKING SONG Horace urges Telephus to give up for once his dry genea- logical and historical studies, and join in a banquet in honor of Murena, — not forgetting the ladies ! The kind who fell as patriots fall. Brave Codrus' lineage you trace From Inachus, and count the race Of Aeacus And hymn to us The wars long waged by Ilium's holy wall. 116 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus But what the price of Chian is, And who will heat the bath aright, And who will bid us home to-night, And fix an hour To overpower These frosts Pelignian, not a word of this. To crescent Dian, boy, fill up ! Fill this to Midnight ! This to thee. Augur Murena ! Nine to three, Or three to nine Of sparkling wine Be fitly measured in the brimming cup. The rapt bard calls for what will mate The number of the tuneful Nine ; To quaff the undiluted wine, It were to flaw The Graces* law. Riot and strife the robeless sisters hate. O rapture ! O delirium ! Why is the breathing music still The Berecynthian reed should fill? Or wherefore mute The liquid flute, There by the silent cithern hanging dumb? No niggard bounty! Fill the air With roses ! Let our maddening cheer Invocations to Bacchus 117 Ring loud on envious Lycus' ear. And gaily greet Our neighbor sweet; Dotard ! he merits ill a wife so fair ! Sweet youth, pure Hesper's parallel. Crowned with bright clustering curis, see ! see ! She comes, as young and fair as thee. Thy Rhode; — ah! For Glycera I waste away on fires unquenchable. Ode III. 1 9 Clark TO BACCHUS Lonsdale and Lee say that this is the only one of Horace's Odes which may be said to be written in the dithyrambic manner. In it Horace, as one possessed with the frantic inspiration of the god, foretells that he will sing in glorious verse the praises of Augustus. Whither through wastes unscanned by mortal eye Bear'st thou me, Bacchus; through what paths untrod ? Evoe ! spare me ! spare thy votary Filled with the fierce, swift, spirit of the God. From what deep cavern to the listening pines Great Caesar's anthemed triumph must I fling. And point his star amid celestial signs? — A portent strange, a mystery, I sing ! I wandered lost : a vision on me fell : A glory bursting from the broad-rimmed sun ■ ' 1 1 118 Horace : Quinius Horatius Flaccus Smote with strong light the phantom-haunted dell : Then thro* the reddening fir-stems distant shone Green fields, and sparkling banks, and rivers deep. Mine eyes were opened ! motionless I gazed ; / As some Bacchante starting from her sleep On thunder-riven mountain stares amazed At snow-clad plains of Thrace beneath her spread. And Rhodope with all its barbarous horde, And Hebrus foaming o'er his rocky bed. Hear me, Lenaean Bacchus ! hear me, lord Of Maenads, and the Naiad race whose floods With mighty arms down rugged gorges bear Uprooted oaks, the monarchs of the woods : Lead on, resistless God ! I know not fear : Peril is sweet near thee, when o*er thy brow The bleeding grape and glistening ivy twine. Soft notes, and dulcet lays beseem not now ; 1 chant immortal Paeans, hymns divine. Ode III, 25 De Vere TO TORQUATUS The snow, dissolved, no more is seen ; The fields and woods, behold, are green; The changing year renews the plain; The rivers know their banks again; The sprightly Nymph and naked Grace The mazy dance together trace; "Immortalia ne speres, monel annus cl almum Quae rapil hora diem." Ode IV, 7. The circling Hour thai swiftly wings its Way And in its flight consumes the smiling Day, The Hour and Day and all the Various Year Convince us nothing is Immortal here. 118 Horace : Quinius Horatius Flaccus Smote with strong light the phantom-haunted dell : Then thro' the reddening fir-stems distant shone Green fields, and sparkling banks, and rivers deep. Mine eyes were opened ! motionless 1 gazed ; As some Bacchante starting from her sleep On thunder-riven mountain stares amazed At snow-clad plains of Thrace beneath her spread. And Rhodope with all its barbarous horde, And Hebrus foaming o*er his rocky bed. Hear me, Lenaean Bacchus ! hear me, lord Of Maenads, and the Naiad race whose floods With mighty arms down rugged gorges bear Uprooted oaks, the monarchs of the woods : Lead on, resistless God ! 1 know not fear : Peril is sweet near thee, when o'er thy brow The bleeding grape and glistening ivy twine. Soft notes, and dulcet lays beseem not now ; i chant immortal Paeans, hymns divine. Ode III, 25 De Vere TO TORQUATUS The snow, dissolved, no more is seen ; The fields and woods, behold, are green ; The changing year renews the plain; The rivers know their banks again; The sprightly Nymph and naked Grace The mazy dance together trace; "Immorlalia ne speres, monel annus el almum Ouae rapit hora diem. Ode IV, 7. The circling Hour that swiftly wings its Way And in its flight consumes the smiUng Day, The Hour and Day and all the Various Year Convince us nothing is Immortal here. I I Invocations to Bacchus 119 The changing year's successive plan Proclaims mortality to man. Rough Winter's blasts to Spring give way ; Spring yields to Summer's sovereign ray ; Then Summer sinks in Autumn's reign ; And Winter chills the world again. Her losses soon the moon supplies, But wretched man, when once he lies Where Priam and his sons are laid, Is nought but ashes, and a shade. Who knows if Jove, who counts our score, Will rouse us in a morning more? What with your friend you nobly share, At least you rescue from your heir. Not you, Torquatus, boast of Rome, When Minos once has fix'd your doom. Or eloquence, or splendid birth. Or virtue, shall restore to earth, Hippolytus, unjustly slain, Diana calls to life in vain ; Nor can the might of Theseus rend The chains of Hell that hold his friend. Ode IV, 7 S. Johnson " Nos, ubi decidimus. Quo pater Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus, Pulvis et umbra sumus. " When we descend where father Aeneas and rich Tullus and Ancus are, we are but dust and a shadow. 1 20 Horace : Quintus H or alius Flaccus ALPHIUS. A CITY BROKER, PRAISES A COUNTRY LIFE. This Ode is called a Master- Piece by the sympathetic Davidson, and even less kindly critics have spoken of it as "without equal in the whole range of literature". DeVere praises it as a valuable picture of Roman life in the country two thousand years ago. The writer of these praises is sup- posed to be a city business man, who after portraying the joys of rural life suddenly changes his mind and goes back to town. The poem has been translated by Dryden ; but we prefer and print here the old-fashioned work of Hawkins written some two hundred and seventy years ago. We add a clever paraphrase by Arthur S. Way. It is indeed closer to the original than a paraphrase ; it is almost a real translation. We trust Mr. Way will pardon this liberty. We have been unable to find his address. He happy is, who far from busie toyle (As elder Ages) tills the soyle His father left, with his owne Cattell, free From heart-enthralling usury. He is not mov*d, when warlik drums doe beat, Nor feares the angry Ocean's threat. He pleas, and suits abhorrs, and doth refuse The grace of mighty men to use. But either doth to tallest Poplar twine The tender off-springs of the vine : And lopping Branches off, which uselesse were, Graft those which better fruit may beare : Or viewth in some winding valley's maze. His wandring beards of Cattell graze. -!^ I i Invocations to Bacchus 121 Or, doth press'd honey in pure vessels keepe, Or sheare his wooll-o're-burdned sheepe. But when with mellow fruit ripe Autumne crown'd, His head upreareth from the ground; How he to taste the grafted Peare delights. And Grape, that with the purple fights. Which to Priapus as a gift redounds. Or old Sylvanus, God of Bounds. Now under aged Okes he houres doth passe. And now reposeth on the grasse. While from high bankes swift trembHng waters glide. And Birds their warbHng notes divide, Small streames on purling pibbles murmur keep, To summon soft and gentle sleep. But when lowd Jove doth winter's season send. And makes sharpe showers, and snowes descend. He, or the hardy Bore from place to place With fleet hounds into Toyles doth chace, Or, with light sticks doth slender nets display, Devouring Thrushes to bettay: Or els the fearfull Hare, and forraigne Crane, (His sports glad spoyles) in grins are ta'ne. Ah ! who in thought, 'mongst such delights retaines Least sense, of lov'es perplexing paines ? But if (in part) a modest wife direct The house, and children deare affect, As Sabine earst, or swift Apulian's dame Scorch'd with the rayes of Phoebus flame. Makes sacred fires with old dry wood to burne, 'Gainst weary husband's wish'd returne : 122 Horace: Quintus H or alius Flaccus And folding gladsome flocks in woven grates, Dryes up their dugs, which milke dilates ; Then broaching new wines kept in vessels faire, An (unbought) Supper doth prepare : The Lucrine Oyster nor the Guilt-head bright, Nor Turbot more my tast delight. If winter, when lowd Eastern tempests rore, Drive such upon our Tirrhene shore: Th' Ionian Partrich, nor the Affrick bird, Such palate-pleasing taste affoord, As when I am with th' unctuous Olive fed. From fruitfuU branches gathered, Or when I meadow-loving sorrell get. And the health-giving mallow eat : A lambe on Terminus his feast that dies, Or Kid redeemed, from wolfe*s surprize. Among these dainties what content it yeelds, To see the fed- flocks leave the fields : To see the weary Ox with neck worne bare, Dragging the turned plough, and share : And toiling hinds (the plenteous household swarme) 'Bout shining Lars to fit, and warme. This said, rich Alphius who money lends, To lead a Countrey life intends ; And in the Ides his debts calFd in amaine, But in the Calends lent againe. Epode II, Hawkins WAY'S VERSION OF THE SAME EPODE " A meditation on the pleasures of a country life, put into the mouth of a city man, who soon thinks better of it." Invocations to Bacchus 123 Oh, happy is he who, from business free — As they lived when the world began — With his team may toil on the old farm-soil. And he owes not any man. Nor is roused from his bed by the war-horn dread. Nor shudders at raging waves; But he shuns the crowd, and the thresholds proud Where lords look scorn on slaves. So the poplar's pride he weds to its bride. The blushing-clustered vine ; And his glad heart swells, as in nestling dells He watches the roving kine : Or he prunes away the barren spray. And he grafts the fruitful there; Or his brown jars foam with the gold from the comb, Or the shorn lambs know his care. Or when, apple-crowned, smiles Autumn round On field and flame-touched wood, Choice pears from the tree he gathers with glee. And the clusters purple-hued — Fair gifts to bring to the Garden -king. Or thee, O Landmark-lord ! Lo, now lies he 'neath the old oak-tree. And anon on the velvet sward. While the streamlet's flow aye murmurs low. And the culvers softly coo, 1^ : 1 i '■ - ', i; I 1 24 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus And a fountain's spray, heard far away, Drifts down in slumber-dew. The Thunder-king to the year may bring Drear gifts of snow and rain : But the forest resounds with the bay of his hounds, And the shout when the boar is slain. Or he cunningly sets the filmy nets The thievish thrush to snare; And the outland crane in the springe is ta'en — Rich prize! — or the trembling hare. No torturing fire of unhallowed desire Mid these sweet scenes may come. Let a dear chaste wife but crown my life, With babes, in the happy home, — A rustic Grace, with a sunburnt face. Like the bride of a mountaineer, — To pile up high the faggots dry When my weary feet draw near, And to fill white-foaming pails in the gloaming. And to fold the sheep and the kine. And my board to spread with the unbought bread And the sweet new country wine. No turbot for me, nor the spoil of the sea That swells the fisherman's store When the wild wind raves o'er the Eastern waves, And sweeps the shoals to shore ! "Beatus illc, qui procul negoliis, Ut prisca gens mortalium, . Paterna rura bobus excercel suis, Solutus omni fenore." Epode 2. Happy the man inured to toil Whose oxen plough the ancestral soil, Frugal like men of old and free From sordid cares and usury. 1 24 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus And a fountain's spray, heard far away, Drifts down in slumber-dew. The Thunder-king to the year may bring Drear gifts of snow and rain : But the forest resounds with the bay of his hounds, And the shout when the boar is slain. Or he cunningly sets the filmy nets The thievish thrush to snare; And the outland crane in the springe is ta'en Rich prize! — or the trembling hare. No torturing fire of unhallowed desire Mid these sweet scenes may come. Let a dear chaste wife but crown my life, With babes, in the happy home, — A rustic Grace, with a sunburnt face. Like the bride of a mountaineer, — To pile up high the faggots dry When my weary feet draw near. And to fill white-foaming pails in the gloaming. And to fold the sheep and the kine. And my board to spread with the unbought bread And the sweet new country wine. No turbot for me, nor the spoil of the sea That swells the fisherman's store When the wild wind raves o'er the Eastern waves. And sweeps the shoals to shore ! 'Bealus ille, qui procul negotiis, Ut prisca gens mortalium, Paterna rura bobus excercet suis, Solutus omni fenore." Epode 2. Happy the man inured to toil Whose oxen plough the ancestral soil. Frugal Hke men of old and free From sordid cares and usury. Invocations to Bacchus 125 Not Afric's pheasant hath flavour pleasant For me, nor Asia's grouse. Ah, give me rather than the olives I gather From the trees around my house, And the sorrel that's found in the green meads round, And the wholesome pottage of mallows, Or the kid that 1 saved when the wolf I braved, Or the lamb that the feast-day hallows. So in peaceful bliss o'er fare like this I watch the sheep stray home. Or, trailing the plough that's idle now, The weary oxen come. And the maids and the men to their supper then Pass in with cheerful face; And in they troop, till a goodly group Is round the faggots' blaze. So to settle down, far, far from the town. He gathered his debts together. On the wing to fly. A week passed by: He was stock-jobbing harder than ever! Epode 11. Way TO HIS FRIENDS: A DRINKING SONG With storm and wrack the sky is black, and sleet and dashing rain With all the gathered streams of heaven are deluging the plain; II ifml m 126 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Now roars the sea, the forests roar with the shrill north wind of Thrace, Then let us snatch the hour, my friends, the hour that flies apace, Whilst yet the bloom is on our cheeks, and rightfully we may With song and jest and jollity keep wrinkled age at bay! Bring forth a jar of lordly wine, whose years my own can mate. Its ruby juices stained the vats in Torquatus' consul- ate! No word of anything that's sad; whateer may be amiss The Gods belike will change to some vicissitude of bliss ! With Achaemenian nard bedew our locks, and troubles dire Subdue to rest in every breast with the Cyllenian lyre! So to his peerless pupil once the noble Centaur sang ; "Invincible, yet mortal, who from goddess Thetis sprang. Thee waits Assaracus's realm, where arrowy Simois glides. That realm which chill Scamander's rill with scanty stream divides. Whence never more shalt thou return, — the Parcae so , decree. Nor shall thy blue-eyed mother home again e'er carry thee. Invocations to Bacchus 127 Then chase with wine and song divine each grief and trouble there, The sweetest, surest antidotes of beauty-marring care ! " Epode XIII, Martin ■ilBI JW ^ JW i ym i nn i .iJ i .mMi i Jmi»[U^Mg ii Mfi i ,j i! ." i ■ HORACE'S STORIES Horace loved to illustrate his arguments and his philosophy with stories. These are usually short and often taken from older sources. His story of Opimius the miser, and that of the lawyer and auctioneer are agreeable and moral tales. One of his Satires, the Bore, relates a personal incident, and is the most modern and amusing of all his writings. Horace is not averse to making fun of the ancient heroes. He uses, for example, the incident of Ulysses and the Theban prophet Tiresias whom the former met in his decent to Hades. Sat. II, 5. The prophet tells Ulysses how "to get rich quick" when he returns home. Horace here furnishes good material for the libretto of a modern comic opera. His stories are short and well told, but rather monotonous in moral. I "-\ THE PARANOIAC WHO DID NOT WISH TO BE CURED There lived at Argos a man of no mean Rank, who imagined he was hearing some rare Tragedians, to whom he sat listening with rapturous applauses in the empty Theatre; who, however, could discharge the other Duties of Life with just enough Decorum; a truly honest Neighbour; a Man of amiable Hospi- tality, kind to his Wife, capable of forgiving his Slaves, and, tho' a Bottle was unseaFd, would not always i 132 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus rave : No such Fool but that he could shun a Precipice, or an open Well : This Man, whose Cure was effected at the Expence and Care of his Relations, so, soon as he expelled the Disease by unmix'd Hellebore, and returned to himself : " Ah me ! my Friend, " says he, "you have undone, not cured me, to rob me thus of Pleasure, and by Force bereave me of a most sweet Del usion. n Epist. II, 2 Davidson THE SOLDIER WHO WAS BRAVE ONLY WHEN HE WAS POOR A Soldier of Lucullus's Army, having run through a great many Hardships to get a little Money together, happened to be robbed of it to a Penny, as he lay fast asleep in the Night, quite fatigued ; whereupon, like a ravening Wolf, fierce with Famine, and enraged both against himself and the Enemy, he drove one of the King's Garrison's from a Post which, as they say, was exceedingly fortified, and richly stored with Booty. Having signalized himself by this Action, he is crown'd with Rewards of Honour, and receives twenty thousand Sesterces besides. It happened about this Time, that his General, having a mind to batter down some Fort or other, began to address the same Soldier, in Terms that might have inspired even a Coward with Courage : " Go, " said he, " my Champion, where your Valour calls you; go in a happy Hour, to reap the ample Recompence of Merit. Why do you demur ? " To "Agedum, sume hoc ptisanarium orizae." "Quanti emtae?" "Parvo." "Quanti ergo?" "Ochissibus." "Eheu! Quid refert, morbo an furtis, pereamve rapinis?" Sat. II, 3. "Take this Elixir, come, 'twill do you good.** "First tell me what it costs." "The price is small." "How much, I ask?" "One shilling, that is all." **A shilling! *S death, if ruin must ensue What matter if by death, disease, or you?" 132 Horace: Quintus Horalius Flaccus rave : No such Fool but that he could shun a Precipice, or an open Well : This Man, whose Cure was effected at the Expence and Care of his Relations, so, soon as he expelled the Disease by unmix d Hellebore, and returned to himself: "Ah me! my Friend," says he, "you have undone, not cured me, to rob me thus of Pleasure, and by Force bereave me of a most sweet Delusion." Epist. II, 2 Davidson THE SOLDIER WHO WAS BRAVE ONLY WHEN HE WAS POOR A Soldier of Lucullus's Army, having run through a great many Hardships to get a little Money together, happened to be robbed of it to a Penny, as he lay fast asleep in the Night, quite fatigu d ; whereupon, hke a ravening Wolf, fierce with Famine, and enraged both against himself and the Enemy, he drove one of the King s Garrison s from a Post which, as they say, was exceedingly fortified, and richly stored with Booty. Having signalized himself by this Action, he is crown'd with Rewards of Honour, and receives twenty thousand Sesterces besides. It happened about this Time, that his General, having a mind to batter down some Fort or other, began to address the same Soldier, in Terms that might have inspired even a Coward with Courage : " Go, " said he, " my Champion, where your Valour calls you; go in a happy Hour, to reap the ample Recompence of Merit. Why do you demur?" To "Agedum, sume hoc ptisanarium orizae. "Quanti emlae?" "Parvo." "Quanti ergo?" "Octussibus." "Eheu! Quid referl, morbo an furlis, pereamve rapinis?" Sat. II, 3. "Take this Elixir, come, 'twill do you good." "First tell me what it costs." "The price is small." "How much, I ask?" "One shilling, that is all." "A shilling! 'S death, if ruin must ensue What matter if by death, disease, or you?" Horace's Stories 133 which he made this arch tho* blunt Reply : " Let him go, good General, let him go on the Attack you design, who has lost his Purse." Epist. II, 2 Davidson THE SICK MISER AND THE FAITHFUL PHYSI- CIAN Horace in one of his Satires dwells upon the follies of men, and particularly upon avarice and covetousness. He would give to the avaricious the largest dose of Hellebore, which was the drug in his time esteemed a specific for insanity. "Danda est hellebori multo pars maxima avaris." He tells, to illustrate his sermon, the following : Opimius, poor amid his hoarded coin, Who quaff*d on common days the lees of wine, And thought it much on festivals to share Poor Veian wine in cheap Campanian ware. So deep a lethargy once chanced to seize That his glad heirs assaiFd the chests and keys. The doctor, an expert and skilful man, To rouse his patient tried the following plan: Large bags of gold were emptied on the floor, And friends employ*d to come and count it o'er. All things prepar'd, he raised the sick man's head, And pointing where the glittering heaps were spread, " Arise, " he cried ; " your greedy heirs will take All your effects, unless you watch and wake. Look ! they commence their plunder even now ! " Th en wake and live. dli "But "What; ere I die!" how?" " Your fainting stomach needs some strength'ning food, In ill m i 134 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Take this elixir ; come, 'twill do you good. " " First tell me what it costs." " The price is small." " How much, I ask? " "One shilling; that is all." "A shilling! 'sdeath, if ruin must ensue, What matter if by theft, disease, or you ? " Sat. II 3 Creech THE COUNTRY MOUSE AND THE CITY MOUSE This story is told by a guest at one of Horace's dinner parties. The country mouse is described as "asper, et attentus quae- sitis," sharp and watchful over what he had acquired ; but. meeting an old friend he "ut tamen arctum solveret hospitiis ani- mum," nevertheless opened his narrow soul to hospitality. If some one have cried up to us Arellius' wealth, forgetting how Much care it costs him, " Look you now, Once on a time," he will begin, "A country mouse received within His rugged cave a city brother. As one old comrade would another. 'A frugal mouse upon the whole. But loved his friend, and had a soul, ' And could be free and open-handed. When hospitality demanded. In brief, he did not spare his hoard Of corn and pease, long coyly stored ; Raisins he brought, and scraps, to boot. Half-gnawed, of bacon, which he put With his own mouth before his guest, In hopes, by offering his best Horace* s Stories In such variety, he might Persuade him to an appetite. But still the cit, with languid eye. Just picked a bit, then put it by; Which with dismay the rustic saw. As, stretched upon some stubbly straw. He munched at bran and common grits, Not venturing on the dainty bits. At length the town mouse; "What," says he, " My good friend, can the pleasure be, Of grubbing here, on the backbone Of a great crag with trees o'ergrown ? Who*d not to these wild woods prefer The city, with its crowds and stir ? Then come with me to town ; you'll ne'er Regret the hour that took you there. All earthly things draw mortal breath; Nor great nor little can from death Escape, and therefore, friend, be gay, Enjoy life's good things while you may, Remembering how brief the space Allowed to you in any case." His words strike home ; and, light of heart. Behold him with our rustic start. Timing their journey, so they might Reach town beneath the cloud of night, Which was at its high noon, when they To a rich mansion found their way. Where shining ivory couches vied With coverlets in purple dyed, 135 :>l 1 136 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus And where in baskets were amassed The wrecks of a superb repast, Which some few hours before had closed. There, having first his friend disposed Upon a purple tissue, straight The city mouse begins to wait With scraps upon his country brother, Each scrap more dainty than another. And all a servant's duty proffers, First tasting everything he offers. The guest, reclining there in state, Rejoices in his altered fate, O'er each fresh tidbit smacks his lips. And breaks into the merriest quips, When suddenly a banging door Shakes host and guest into the floor. From room to room they rush aghast. And almost drop down dead at last, When loud through all the house resounds The deep bay of Molossian hounds. " Ho ! " cries the country mouse, " this kind Of life is not for me, 1 find. Give me my woods and cavern ! There At least I'm safe ! And though both spare And poor my food may be, rebel I never will ; so, fare ye well ! " "HauJ mihi vita Est opus hac.** No city life for me. SaL //. 6 Martin Horace* s Stories 137 PHILIP THE RICH LAWYER AND VULTEIUS THE POOR AUCTIONEER Philip, the famous counsel, on a day — A burly man and wilful in his way — From court returning, somewhere about two, And grumbling, for his years were far from few. That the Carinae were so distant, though But from the Forum half a mile or so. Descried a fellow in a barber's booth, All by himself, his chin fresh shaved and smooth. Trimming his nails, and with the easy air Of one uncumbered by a wish or care. " Demetrius! " — 'twas his page, a boy of tact. In comprehension swift, and swift in act, — " Go, ascertain his rank, name, fortune ; track His father, patron ! " In a trice he's back. " An auction-crier, Vulteius Mena, sir. Means poor enough, no spot on character. Good or to work or idle, get or spend, Has his own house, delights to see a friend. Fond of the play, and sure, when work is done. Of those who crowd the Campus to make one." " rd like to hear all from himself. Away, Bid him come dine with me — at once— to-day ! " Mena some trick in the request divines. Turns it all ways, then civilly declines. " What ! Says me nay ? " " 'Tis even so, sir. Why ? Can't say. Dislikes you, or, more likely, shy. " i|i 138 Horace : Quintus Horatius Flaccus Next morning Philip searches Mena out, And finds him vending to a rabble rout Old crazy lumber, frippery of the worst, And with all courtesy salutes him first. Mena pleads occupation, ties of trade. His service else he would by dawn have paid At Philip s house, — was grieved to think, that how He should have failed to notice him till now. " On one condition I accept your plea. You come this afternoon, and dine with me." "Yours to command." "Be there, then, sharp at four! Now go, work hard, and make your little more ! " At dinner Mena rattled on, expressed Whatever came uppermost, then home to rest. The hook was baited craftily, and when The fish came nibbling ever and again, At morn a client, and, when asked to dine, Not now at all in humour to decline, Philip himself one holiday drove him down, To see his villa some few miles from town. Mena keeps praising up, the whole way there, The Sabine country and the Sabine air ; So Philip sees his fish is fairly caught. And smiles with inward triumph at the thought. Resolved at any price to have his whim, — For that is best of all repose to him, — Seven hundred pounds he gives him there and then, Proffers on easy terms as much again, And so persuades him, that, with tastes like his. Horace's Stories 139 He ought to buy a farm ; — so bought it is. Not to detain you longer than enough, The dapper cit becomes a farmer bluff, Talks drains and subsoils, ever on the strain Grows lean, and ages with the lust of gain. But when his sheep are stolen, when murrains smite His goats, and his best crops are killed with blight. When at the plough his oxen drop down dead. Stung with his losses, up one night from bed He springs, and on a cart-horse makes his way. All wrath, to Philip's house, by break of day. " How's this ? " cries Philip, seeing him unshorn And shabby. " Why, Vulteius, you look worn. You work, methinks, too long upon the stretch." " Oh, that's not it, my patron. Call me wretch ! That is the only fitting name for me. Oh, by thy Genius, by the gods that be Thy hearth's protectors, I beseech, implore. Give me, oh, give me back my life of yore. " If for the worse you find you've changed your place, Pause not to think, but straight your steps retrace. In every state the maxim still is true. On your own last take care to fit your shoe! Epist. /, 7 Martin l\ **MeUri se quemque suo modulo ac pede, verum est. ** So true it is that every one should adjust himself to his own capacity and condition. **Parvum parva decent. ** Modest ways are becoming to those of modest means. 140 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus ii THE LEAN FIELD MOUSE Horace is willing to give up his fatness, rather than his freedom. Through a small hole a field-mouse, lank and thin, Had squeezed his way into a barley bin. And, having fed to fatness on the grain. Tried to get out, but tried and squeezed in vain. "Friend," cried a weasel, loitering thereabout, " Lean you went in, and lean you must get out." Now, at my head if folks this story throw, Whatever 1 have I'm ready to forego; I am not one, with forced meats in my throat, Fine saws on poor men's dreamless sleep to quote. Unless in soul as very air I'm free. Not all the wealth of Araby for me. You've ofttimes praised the reverent, yet true Devotion, which my heart has shown for you. King, father, I have called you, nor been slack In words of gratitude behind your back; But even your bounties, if you care to try. You'll find I can renounce without a sigh. Not badly young Telemachus replied, Ulysses' son, that man so sorely tried : " No mettled steeds in Ithaca we want ; The ground is broken there, the herbage scant. Let me, Atrides, then, thy gifts decline. In thy hands they are better far than mine ! " Horace's Stories Yes, little things fit little folks. In Rome The Great I never feel myself at home. Let me have Tibur, and its dreamful ease, Or soft Tarentum's nerve-relaxing breeze. Epist. /, 7 Ml Martii m HORACE AND THE BORE The following story is no doubt based upon a personal experience. It is certainly the most humorous thing in Horace or in all Roman literature. The Romans were not much given to humour, and even Horace's jokes and stories require a mel- low mood for full appreciation ; but it takes no excess of humor- ous sensibility to appreciate " The Bore ". Macleane thinks it the most genial and characteristic of any of Horace's writings. It has been translated by Cowper ; but he paraphrased and spoiled it. Canon Howes seems to have done it best. A whole book has been written upon the Sacra Via. It was a street in Rome, about a mile in length, running from the Capitol to the Regia Domus and Temple of Vesta, full of the turns natural to a street which began, in the earliest days, as a simple path fitted to the inequalities of the ground it crossed ; and was later diverted by buildings on or near it. Along the Sacred Street I chanced to stray Musing I know not what, as is my way. And wholly wrapt in thought — when up there came A fellow scarcely known to me by name : Grasping my hand, " My dear friend, how d'ye do? And pray," he cried, "how wags the world with you :>'' " I thank you, passing well, as times go now ; Your servant : " — And with that I made my bow. But finding him still dangle at my sleeve Without the slightest sign of taking leave, i.iir'"~^ ■WMPMWHMI.I nil "W» /^2 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus I turn with cold civility and say — " Anything further, Sir, with me to-day ? " — " Nay, truce with this reserve! it is but fit We two were friends, since Tm a brother-wit. Here some dull compliment I stammered out, As, " That, Sir, recommends you much no doubt." Vexed to the soul and dying to be gone, 1 slacken now my pace, now hurry on ; And sometimes halt at once in full career. Whispering some trifle in my lackey's ear. But when he still stuck by me as before, — Sweating with inward spleen at every pore. Oh ! how I longed to let my passion pass. And sighed, Bolanus, for thy front of brass ! Meanwhile he keeps up one incessant chat About the streets, the houses and all that : Marking at last my silence—" Well," said he, " Tis pretty plain you re anxious to get free : But patience, darling Sir ! so lately met — Odslif e ! I cannot think of parting yet. Inform me, whither are your footsteps bound ? " " To see (but pray don t let me drag you round) A friend of mine, who lies extremely ill A mile beyond the bridge, or further still." " Nay then, come on ! IVe nothing else to do ; And as to distance, what is that— with you ! " On hearing this, quite driven to despair. Guess what my looks and what my feelings were ! Never did ass upon the public road. When on his back he felt a double load. m\ THE VIA SACRA AND ARCH OF TITUS AT THE PRESENT TIME 142 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus I turn with cold civility and say — " Anything further, Sir, with me to-day ? " — " Nay, truce with this reserve! it is but fit We two were friends, since Vm a brother-wit." Here some dull compliment 1 stammered out. As, " That, Sir, recommends you much no doubt." Vexed to the soul and dying to be gone, I slacken now my pace, now hurry on ; And sometimes halt at once in full career, Whispering some trifle in my lackey s ear. But when he still stuck by me as before, — Sweating with inward spleen at every pore. Oh ! how I longed to let my passion pass. And sighed, Bolanus, for thy front of brass ! Meanwhile he keeps up one incessant chat About the streets, the houses and all that : Marking at last my silence—" Well," said he, " Tis pretty plain you re anxious to get free : But patience, darling Sir ! so lately met— Odslife ! I cannot think of parting yet. Inform me, whither are your footsteps bound?" " To see (but pray don t let me drag you round) A friend of mine, who lies extremely ill A mile beyond the bridge, or further still." " Nay then, come on ! I've nothing else to do ; And as to distance, what is that— with you ! " On hearing this, quite driven to despair. Guess what my looks and what my feelings were ! Never did ass upon the public road, When on his back he felt a double load, THE VIA SACRA AND ARCH OF TITUS AT THE PRESENT TIME i Horace's Stories 143 Hang both his ears so dismal and so blank. " In me, Sir, " he continues, " to be frank. You know not what a friend you have in store : Viscus and Varius will not charm you more. For as to dancing, who with me can vie? Or who can scribble verse so fast as 1 ? Again, in powers of voice so much I shine Hermogenes himself might envy mine. " Here for a moment, puffed with self-applause. He stopped ; I took advantage of the pause : ^ These toils will shorten, sure, your precious life; Have you no loving mother, friend, or wife ; Who takes an interest in your fate ? " — " Oh, no ; Thank heaven ! they're all disposed of long ago. " " Good luck (thought I ), by thee no longer vexed ! " So I, it seems, must be disposed of next : Well, let me but at once resign my breath ; To die by inches thus were worse than death. Now, now I see the doom approaching near. Which once was told me by a gossip seer : While yet a boy, the wrinkled beldam shook Her urn, and, eyeing me with piteous look, " Poor lad ! " she cried, " no mischief shalt thou feel Or from the poisoned bowl or hostile steel; Nor pricking pleurisy, nor hectic cough. Nor slow-consuming gout shall take thee off: 'Tis thy sad lot, when grown to man*s estate. To fall the victim of a puppys prate : Go, treasure in thy mind the truths Tve sung. And shun, if thou art wise, a chattering tongue." ! 144 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus At Vesta's temple we arrived at last ; And now one quarter of the day was past — When by the greatest luck he had, 1 found, To stand a suit, and by the law was bound Either to answer to the charges brought. Or else to suffer judgment by default. " Tm sorry to detain you here, " he cried ; " But 1 might ask you just to step aside ? " " You must excuse me ; legs so cramped with gout As mine, i fear, could never stand it out : Then, may I perish if Y\e skill or taste For law; besides, you know 1 am in haste." — " Faith, now you make me doubtful what to do ; Whether to sacrifice my cause or you. " " Me, by all means. Sir! — me, I beg and pray." " Not for the world," cried he, and led the way. Convinced all further struggle was but vain, I follow like a captive in his train. " Well "—he begins afresh — " how stand you. Sir. In the good graces of our Minister? " — " His favourites are but few, and those select : Never was one more nice and circumspect. " Enough — In all such cases I'm the man To work my way ! In short, to crown your plan. You need some second, master of his art. To act, d*ye see, a sort of under-part. Now what is easier?- Do but recommend Your humble servant to this noble friend ; And, take my word, the coast we soon should clear. And you erelong monopolize his ear. — Horace's Stories 145 " Tush ! matters go not there as you suppose ; No roof is purer from intrigues like those : Think not, if such, and such surpass myself In wealth of wit, Tm laid upon the shelf : Each has his place assigned." — " Why, this is new And passing strange! " — " Yet not more strange than true. " — " Gods ! how you whet my wishes ! well, I vow, I long to know him more than ever now." — — " Assail him then; the will is all you need; With prowess such as yours, you must succeed : He's not impregnable ; but (what is worst) He knows it, and is therefore shy at first." " If that's his humour, trust me, I shall spare No kind of pains to win admittance there : I'll bribe his porter; if denied to-day, I'll not desist, but try some other way : I'll watch occasions — linger in his suite. Waylay, salute, huzzah him through the street. Nothing of consequence beneath the sun Without great labour ever yet was done." Thus he procc >ded prattling without end. When — who should meet us but my worthy friend, Aristius Fuscus, one who knew the fop And ail his humours : up he comes — we stop. "Whence now, good Sir, and whither bound?" he cries. And to like questions, put in turn, replies. In hopes he'd take the hint and draw me off, I twitch his listless sleeve — nod — wink — and cough. M6 Horace: Quintus Horatius Flaccus He, feigning ignorance what my signals mean, With cruel waggery smiles: — 1 burn with spleen. "Fuscus" (said I), "you mentioned t'other day Something particular you wished to say Betwixt ourselves." — "Perhaps I might: 'tis true: But never mind ; some other time will do : This is the Jews' grand feast ; and I suspect You'd hardly like to spurn that holy sect. " — " Nay, for such scruples, 'troth i feel not any." — " Well, but 1 do, and, like the vulgar many, Am rather tender in such points as these : So by and bye of that. Sir, if you please." — Ah me ! that e'er so dark a sun should rise ! Away the pitiless barbarian flies. And leaves me baffled, half bereft of life, All at the mercy of the ruthless knife. With hue and cry the plaintiff comes at last ; " Soho there, sirrah ! whither now so fast ? " "Sir" — he addressed me — "You'll bear witness here?" " Aye, that 1 will, " quoth I, and turned my ear. Anon he's dragged to court; on either side Loud shouts ensue, and uproar lords it wide : While 1, amid the hurly-burly riot. Thanks to Apollo's care ! walk off in quiet. SaL /, 9 Howes < D Z H U > r^ "J Ui Of s X ^ H . Z JQ O oc O < H 5 O S Id a. S ui Z < o •• o < Z 146 Horace: Quinius Horatius Ftaccus He, feigning ignorance what my signals mean, With cruel waggery smiles: — I burn with spleen. " Fuscus " (said 1 ), " you mentioned t'other day Something particular you wished to say Betwixt ourselves." — "Perhaps 1 might: 'tis true: But never mind ; some other time will do : This is the Jews' grand feast ; and I suspect You d hardly like to spurn that holy sect. " — " Nay, for such scruples, 'troth I feel not any." — " Well, but 1 do, and, like the vulgar many, Am rather tender in such points as these : So by and bye of that, Sir, if you please." — Ah me ! that e'er so dark a sun should rise ! Away the pitiless barbarian flies, And leaves me baffled, half bereft of life, All at the mercy of the ruthless knife. With hue and cry the plaintiff comes at last ; "Soho there, sirrah! whither now so fast?" "Sir" — he addressed me— "You'll bear witness here?" "Aye, that 1 will," quoth I, and turned my ear. Anon he's dragged to court ; on either side Loud shouts ensue, and uproar lords it wide : While I, amid the hurly-burly riot. Thanks to Apollo's care ! walk off in quiet. Sal. L 9 Howes o < * CC D H < Z U > H (h CO o CC u u u< 0. S LjlI Id X H H Z CM ^M Ul O z s O a: bu O Ou < S bJ 0S z MM u 0. H D O o z Hi < eu o ^ a: • Lju »— •• • o < Z ^m > < o: u < CO ^^mmmmmmmm //. orace s atones Stc 147 THE STAG AND THE HORSE Horace can not cease from moralizing on the wisdom of being contented with one's own lot, or from praising the liberty of poverty. Once upon a time a stag, at antlers' point, Expelled a horse h*d worsted, from the joint Enjoyment of the pasture both had cropped: Still, when he ventured near it rudely stopped, The steed called in man's aid, and took the bit: Thus backed, he charged the stag, and conquered it. But woe the while! nor rider, bit, nor rein Could he shake off, and be himself again. So he, who, fearing poverty, hath sold His freedom, better than uncounted gold, Will bear a master and a master's laws, And be a slave unto the end, because He v^ll not learn, what fits him most to know, How far, discreetly used, small means wall go. EpisL I, 1 Martin ^"X *'Serviet aeternum, quia parvo nesciet uti. " He will be a slave forever, because he does not know how to make good use of a small store. COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES This book is due on the date Indicated below, or at the expiration of a definite period after the date of borrowing, as provided by the library rules or by special arrangement with the Librarian in charge. OATC BORROWeO DATE DUE DATE BORROWEO DATE DUE 1 1 f \ cas(ii49)iooM OCT 1 8 ti.-- IN 1 i 1950