---
title: "Odes · Carmina"
author: "Horace"
translator: "John Conington"
title_ru: "Оды"
author_ru: "Гораций"
languages: [la, en]
shelf: "Classical Latin"
url: https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/
cite: "Horace, tr. John Conington, Odes · Carmina. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/"
---

# Odes · Carmina

*Horace, tr. John Conington*

Russian: Оды, Гораций

Four books of lyric: friendship, wine, love and the passing of time. Carpe diem.

> Latin: ed. Paul Shorey, from the Perseus Digital Library (canonical-latinLit, phi0893.phi001, CC BY-SA 4.0).

> English: John Conington, from the Perseus Digital Library (phi0893.phi001.perseus-eng2). Notes are not included.

> Rows follow the references the two texts share (line numbers), cut where both reach the end of a sentence.

## Contents

1. [Book I](https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/1.md)
2. [Book II](https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/2.md)
3. [Book III](https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/3.md)
4. [Book IV](https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/4.md)

## 1. Book I

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/1/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/1/#p-N

[¶0] Maecenas, born of monarch ancestors,
The shield at once and glory of my life!

> Latin: Maecenas atavis edite regibus,
o et praesidium et dulce decus meum:

[¶1] There are who joy them in the Olympic strife
And love the dust they gather in the course;
The goal by hot wheels shunn'd, the famous prize,
Exalt them to the gods that rule mankind;

> Latin: sunt quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum
collegisse iuvat metaque fervidis
evitata rotis palmaque nobilis
terrarum dominos evehit ad deos;

[¶2] This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind
Through triple grade of honours bid him rise,
That, if his granary has stored away
Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire;

> Latin: hunc, si mobilium turba Quiritium
certat tergeminis tollere honoribus,
illum, si proprio condidit horreo
quidquid de Libycis verritur areis.

[¶3] The man who digs his field as did his sire,
With honest pride, no Attalus may sway
By proffer'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas,
The timorous captain of a Cyprian bark.

> Latin: gaudentem patrios findere sarculo
agros Attalicis condicionibus
numquam demoveas, ut trabe Cypria
Myrtoum pavidus nauta secet mare.

[¶4] The winds that make Icarian billows dark
The merchant fears, and hugs the rural ease
Of his own village home; but soon, ashamed
Of penury, he refits his batter'd craft.

> Latin: luctantem Icariis fluctibus Africum
mercator metuens otium et oppidi
laudat rura sui; mox reficit rates
quassas indocilis pauperiem pati.

[¶5] There is, who thinks no scorn of Massic draught,
Who robs the daylight of an hour unblamed,
Now stretch'd beneath the arbute on the sward,
Now by some gentle river's sacred spring;

> Latin: est qui nec veteris pocula Massici
nec partem solido demere de die
spernit, nunc viridi membra sub arbuto
stratus, nunc ad aquae lene caput sacrae.

[¶6] Some love the camp, the clarion's joyous ring,
And battle, by the mother's soul abhorr'd.
See, patient waiting in the clear keen air,
The hunter, thoughtless of his delicate bride,
Whether the trusty hounds a stag have eyed,
Or the fierce Marsian boar has burst the snare.

> Latin: multos castra iuvant et lituo tubae
permixtus sonitus bellaque matribus
detestata. manet sub Iove frigido
venator tenerae coniugis inmemor,
seu visa est catulis cerva fidelibus
seu rupit teretes Marsus aper plagas.

[¶7] To me the artist's meed, the ivy wreath
Is very heaven: me the sweet cool of woods,
Where Satyrs frolic with the Nymphs, secludes
From rabble rout, so but Euterpe's breath
Fail not the flute, nor Polyhymnia fly
Averse from stringing new the Lesbian lyre.

> Latin: me doctarum hederae praemia frontium
dis miscent superis, me gelidum nemus
Nympharumque leves cum Satyris chori
secernunt populo, si neque tibias
Euterpe cohibet nec Polyhymnia
Lesboum refugit tendere barbiton.

[¶8] O, write my name among that minstrel choir,
And my proud head shall strike upon the sky!
Enough of snow and hail at last
The sire has sent in vengeance down:
His bolts, at his own temple cast,
Appall'd the town,
Appall'd the lands, lest Pyrrha's time
Return, with all its monstrous sights,
When Proteus led his flocks to climb
The flatten'd heights,
When fish were in the elm-tops caught,
Where once the stock-dove wont to bide,
And does were floating, all distraught,
Adown the tide.
Old Tiber, hurl'd in tumult back
From mingling with the Etruscan main,
Has threaten'd Numa's court with wrack
And Vesta's fane.
Roused by his Ilia's plaintive woes,
He vows revenge for guiltless blood,
And, spite of Jove, his banks o'erflows,
Uxorious flood.
Yes, Fame shall tell of civic steel
That better Persian lives had spilt,
To youths, whose minish'd numbers feel
Their parents' guilt.
What god shall Rome invoke to stay
Her fall? Can suppliance overbear
The ear of Vesta, turn'd away
From chant and prayer?
Who comes, commission'd to atone
For crime like ours? at length appear,
A cloud round thy bright shoulders thrown,
Apollo seer!
Or Venus, laughter-loving dame,
Round whom gay Loves and Pleasures fly;
Or thou, if slighted sons may claim
A parent's eye,
O weary with thy long, long game,
Who lov'st fierce shouts and helmets bright,
And Moorish warrior's glance of flame
Or e'er he smite!

> Latin: quodsi me lyricis vatibus inseres,
sublimi feriam sidera vertice.
Iam satis terris nivis atque dirae
grandinis misit pater et rubente
dextera sacras iaculatus arcis
terruit urbem,
terruit gentis, grave ne rediret
saeculum Pyrrhae nova monstra questae,
omne cum Proteus pecus egit altos
visere montis,
piscium et summa genus haesit ulmo,
nota quae sedes fuerat columbis,
et superiecto pavidae natarunt
aequore dammae.
vidimus flavum Tiberim retortis
litore Etrusco violenter undis
ire deiectum monumenta regis
templaque Vestae,
Iliae dum se nimium querenti
iactat ultorem, vagus et sinistra
labitur ripa Iove non probante u-
xorius amnis.
audiet civis acuisse ferrum,
quo graves Persae melius perirent,
audiet pugnas vitio parentum
rara iuventus.
quem vocet divum populus ruentis
imperi rebus? prece qua fatigent
virgines sanctae minus audientem
carmina Vestam?
cui dabit partis scelus expiandi
Iuppiter? tandem venias precamur
nube candentis umeros amictus
augur Apollo;
sive tu mavis, Erycina ridens,
quam Iocus circum volat et Cupido;
sive neglectum genus et nepotes
respicis, auctor
heu nimis longo satiate ludo,
quem iuvat clamor galeaeque leves
acer et Marsi peditis cruentum
voltus in hostem;

[¶9] Or Maia's son, if now awhile
In youthful guise we see thee here,
Caesar's avenger—such the style
Thou deign'st to bear;

> Latin: sive mutata iuvenem figura
ales in terris imitaris almae
filius Maiae, patiens vocari
Caesaris ultor:

[¶10] Late be thy journey home, and long
Thy sojourn with Rome's family;
Nor let thy wrath at our great wrong
Lend wings to fly.
Here take our homage, Chief and Sire;
Here wreathe with bay thy conquering brow,
And bid the prancing Mede retire,
Our Caesar thou!
Thus may Cyprus' heavenly queen,
Thus Helen's brethren, stars of brightest sheen,
Guide thee! May the sire of wind
Each truant gale, save only Zephyr, bind!
So do thou, fair ship, that ow'st
Virgil, thy precious freight, to Attic coast,
Safe restore thy loan and whole,
And save from death the partner of my soul!
Oak and brass of triple fold
Encompass'd sure that heart, which first made bold
To the raging sea to trust
A fragile bark, nor fear'd the Afric gust
With its Northern mates at strife,
Nor Hyads' frown, nor South-wind fury-rife,
Mightiest power that Hadria knows,
Wills he the waves to madden or compose.
What had Death in store to awe
Those eyes, that huge sea-beasts unmelting saw,
Saw the swelling of the surge,
And high Ceraunian cliffs, the seaman's scourge?
Heaven's high providence in vain
Has sever'd countries with the estranging main,
If our vessels ne'ertheless
With reckless plunge that sacred bar transgress.
Daring all, their goal to win,
Men tread forbidden ground, and rush on sin:
Daring all, Prometheus play'd
His wily game, and fire to man convey'd;
Soon as fire was stolen away,
Pale Fever's stranger host and wan Decay
Swept o'er earth's polluted face,
And slow Fate quicken'd Death's once halting pace.
Daedalus the void air tried
On wings, to humankind by Heaven denied;
Acheron's bar gave way with ease
Before the arm of labouring Hercules.
Nought is there for man too high;
Our impious folly e'en would climb the sky,
Braves the dweller on the steep,
Nor lets the bolts of heavenly vengeance sleep.
The touch of Zephyr and of Spring has loosen'd Winter's thrall;
The well-dried keels are wheel'd again to sea:
The ploughman cares not for his fire, nor cattle for their stall,
And frost no more is whitening all the lea.
Now Cytherea leads the dance, the bright moon overhead;
The Graces and the Nymphs, together knit,
With rhythmic feet the meadow beat, while Vulcan, fiery red,
Heats the Cyclopian forge in Aetna's pit.
'Tis now the time to wreathe the brow with branch of myrtle green,
Or flowers, just opening to the vernal breeze;
Now Faunus claims his sacrifice among the shady treen,
Lambkin or kidling, which soe'er he please.
Pale Death, impartial, walks his round: he knocks at cottage-gate
And palace-portal. Sestius, child of bliss!
How should a mortal's hopes be long, when short his being's date?
Lo here! the fabulous ghosts, the dark abyss,
The void of the Plutonian hall, where soon as e'er you go,
No more for you shall leap the auspicious die
To seat you on the throne of wine; no more your breast shall glow
For Lycidas, the star of every eye.
What slender youth, besprinkled with perfume,
Courts you on roses in some grotto's shade?
Fair Pyrrha, say, for whom
Your yellow hair you braid,
So trim, so simple! Ah! how oft shall he
Lament that faith can fail, that gods can change,
Viewing the rough black sea
With eyes to tempests strange,
Who now is basking in your golden smile,
And dreams of you still fancy-free, still kind,
Poor fool, nor knows the guile
Of the deceitful wind!
Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloud
Untried! For me, they show in yonder fane
My dripping garments, vow'd
To Him who curbs the main.
Not I, but Varius:—he, of Homer's brood
A tuneful swan, shall bear you on his wing,
Your tale of trophies, won by field or flood,
Mighty alike to sing.
Not mine such themes, Agrippa; no, nor mine
To chant the Wrath that fill'd Pelides' breast,
Nor dark Ulysses' wanderings o'er the brine,
Nor Pelops' house unblest.
Vast were the task, I feeble; inborn shame,
And she, who makes the peaceful lyre submit,
Forbid me to impair great Caesar's fame
And yours by my weak wit.
But who may fitly sing of Mars array'd
In adamant mail, or Merion, black with dust
Of Troy, or Tydeus' son by Pallas' aid
Strong against gods to thrust?
Feasts are my theme, my warriors maidens fair,
Who with pared nails encounter youths in fight;
Be Fancy free or caught in Cupid's snare,
Her temper still is light.
Let others Rhodes or Mytilene sing,
Or Ephesus, or Corinth, set between
Two seas, or Thebes, or Delphi, for its king
Each famous, or Thessalian Tempe green;
There are who make chaste Pallas' virgin tower
The daily burden of unending song,
And search for wreaths the olive's rifled bower:
The praise of Juno sounds from many a tongue,
Telling of Argos' steeds, Mycenae's gold.
For me stern Sparta forges no such spell,
No, nor Larissa's plain of richest mould,
As bright Albunea echoing from her cell.
O headlong Anio! O Tiburnian groves,
And orchards saturate with shifting streams!
Look how the clear fresh south from heaven removes
The tempest, nor with rain perpetual teems!
You too be wise, my Plancus: life's worst cloud
Will melt in air, by mellow wine allay'd,
Dwell you in camps, with glittering banners proud,
Or 'neath your Tibur's canopy of shade.
When Teucer fled before his father's frown
From Salamis, they say his temples deep
He dipp'd in wine, then wreath'd with poplar crown,
And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep:
“Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind,
There let us go, my own, my gallant crew.
'Tis Teucer leads, 'tis Teucer breathes the wind;
No more despair; Apollo's word is true.
Another Salamis in kindlier air
Shall yet arise. Hearts, that have borne with me
Worse buffets! drown today in wine your care;
To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea!”
Lydia, by all above,
Why bear so hard on Sybaris, to ruin him with love?
What change has made him shun
The playing-ground, who once so well could bear the dust and sun?
Why does he never sit
On horseback in his company, nor with uneven bit
His Gallic courser tame?
Why dreads he yellow Tiber, as 'twould sully that fair frame?
Like poison loathes the oil,
His arms no longer black and blue with honourable toil,
He who erewhile was known
For quoit or javelin oft and oft beyond the limit thrown?
Why skulks he, as they say
Did Thetis' son before the dawn of Ilion's fatal day,
For fear the manly dress
Should fling him into danger's arms, amid the
Lycian press?
See, how it stands, one pile of snow,
Soracte! 'neath the pressure yield
Its groaning woods; the torrents' flow
With clear sharp ice is all congeal'd.
Heap high the logs, and melt the cold,
Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask,
That mellower vintage, four-year-old,
From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.
The future trust with Jove; when he
Has still'd the warring tempests' roar
On the vex'd deep, the cypress-tree
And aged ash are rock'd no more.
O, ask not what the morn will bring,
But count as gain each day that chance
May give you; sport in life's young spring,
Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,
While years are green, while sullen eld
Is distant. Now the walk, the game,
The whisper'd talk at sunset held,
Each in its hour, prefer their claim.
Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarm
The hiding-place of beauty tells,
The token, ravish'd from the arm
Or finger, that but ill rebels.
Grandson of Atlas, wise of tongue,
O Mercury, whose wit could tame
Man's savage youth by power of song
And plastic game!
Thee sing I, herald of the sky,
Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet,
Hiding whate'er might please thine eye
In frolic cheat.
See, threatening thee, poor guileless child,
Apollo claims, in angry tone,
His cattle;—all at once he smiled,
His quiver gone.
Strong in thy guidance, Hector's sire
Escaped the Atridae, pass'd between
Thessalian tents and warders' fire,
Of all unseen,
Thou lay'st unspotted souls to rest;
Thy golden rod pale spectres know;
Blest power! by all thy brethren blest,
Above, below!
Ask not ('tis forbidden knowledge), what our destined term of years,
Mine and yours; nor scan the tables of your Babylonish seers.
Better far to bear the future, my Leuconoe, like the past,
Whether Jove has many winters yet to give, or this our last;
This, that makes the Tyrrhene billows spend their strength against the shore.
Strain your wine and prove your wisdom; life is short; should hope be more?
In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb'd away.
Seize the present; trust tomorrow e'en as little as you may.
What man, what hero, Clio sweet,
On harp or flute wilt thou proclaim?
What god shall echo's voice repeat
In mocking game
To Helicon's sequester'd shade,
Or Pindus, or on Haemus chill,
Where once the hurrying woods obey'd
The minstrel's will,
Who, by his mother's gift of song,
Held the fleet stream, the rapid breeze,
And led with blandishment along
The listening trees?
Whom praise we first? the sire on high,
Who gods and men unerring guides,
Who rules the sea, the earth, the sky,
Their times and tides.
No mightier birth may he beget;
No like, no second has he known;
Yet nearest to her sire's is set
Minerva's throne.
Nor yet shall Bacchus pass unsaid,
Bold warrior, nor the virgin foe
Of savage beasts, nor Phoebus, dread
With deadly bow.
Alcides too shall be my theme,
And Leda's twins, for horses he,
He famed for boxing; soon as gleam
Their stars at sea,
The lash'd spray trickles from the steep,
The wind sinks down, the storm-cloud flies,
The threatening billow on the deep
Obedient lies.
Shall now Quirinus take his turn,
Or quiet Numa, or the state
Proud Tarquin held, or Cato stern,
By death made great?
Ay, Regulus and the Scaurian name,
And Paullus, who at Cannae gave
His glorious soul, fair record claim,
For all were brave.
Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee,
Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard,
Your sires' transmitted poverty
To conquest rear'd.
Marcellus' fame, its up-growth hid,
Springs like a tree; great Julius' light
Shines, like the radiant moon amid
The lamps of night.
Dread Sire and Guardian of man's race,
To thee, O Jove, the Fates assign
Our Caesar's charge; his power and place
Be next to thine.

> Latin: serus in caelum redeas diuque
laetus intersis populo Quirini
neve te nostris vitiis iniquum
ocior aura
tollat; hic magnos potius triumphos,
hic ames dici pater atque princeps
neu sinas Medos equitare inultos
te duce, Caesar.
Sic te diva potens Cypri,
sic fratres Helenae, lucida sidera,
ventorumque regat pater
obstrictis aliis praeter Iapyga,
navis, quae tibi creditum
debes Vergilium; finibus Atticis
reddas incolumem precor
et serves animae dimidium meae.
illi robur et aes triplex
circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci
conmisit pelago ratem
primus: nec timuit praecipitem Africum
decertantem Aquilonibus
nec tristis Hyadas nec rabiem Noti,
quo non arbiter Hadriae
maior, tollere seu ponere volt freta;
quem mortis timuit gradum
qui siccis oculis monstra natantia,
qui vidit mare turbidum et
infamis scopulos Acroceraunia?
nequiquam deus abscidit
prudens oceano dissociabili
terras, si tamen inpiae
non tangenda rates transiliunt vada.
audax omnia perpeti
gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas:
audax Iapeti genus
ignem fraude mala gentibus intulit;
post ignem aetheria domo
subductum macies et nova febrium
terris incubuit cohors
semotique prius tarda necessitas
Leti corripuit gradum;
expertus vacuum Daedalus aera
pennis non homini datis;
perrupit Acheronta Herculeus labor.
nil mortalibus ardui est:
caelum ipsum petimus stultitia neque
per nostrum patimur scelus
iracunda Iovem ponere fulmina.
Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni
trahuntque siccas machinae carinas
ac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igni
nec prata canis albicant pruinis.
iam Cytherea choros ducit Venus imminente luna
iunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes
alterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis Cyclopum
Volcanus ardens visit officinas.
nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire myrto
aut flore, terrae quem ferunt solutae,
nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,
seu poscat agna sive malit haedo.
pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
regumque turris. o beate Sesti,
vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam;
iam te premet nox fabulaeque Manes
et domus exilis Plutonia; quo simul mearis,
nec regna vini sortiere talis
nec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo calet iuventus
nunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt.
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
cui flavam religas comam
simplex munditiis? heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos flebit et aspera
nigris aequora ventis
emirabitur insolens
qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem
sperat, nescius aurae
fallacis. miseri, quibus
intemptata nites. me tabula sacer
votiva paries indicat uvida
suspendisse potenti
vestimenta maris deo.
Scriberis Vario fortis et hostium
victor Maeonii carminis alite,
quam rem cumque ferox navibus aut equis
miles te duce gesserit.
nos, Agrippa, neque haec dicere nec gravem
Pelidae stomachum cedere nescii
nec cursus duplicis per mare Ulixei
nec saevam Pelopis domum
conamur, tenues grandia, dum pudor
inbellisque lyrae Musa potens vetat
laudes egregii Caesaris et tuas
culpa deterere ingeni.
quis Martem tunica tectum adamantina
digne scripserit aut pulvere Troico
nigrum Merionen aut ope Palladis
Tydiden superis parem?
nos convivia, nos proelia virginum
sectis in iuvenes unguibus acrium
cantamus, vacui sive quid urimur,
non praeter solitum leves.
Laudabunt alii claram Rhodon aut Mytilenen
aut Epheson bimarisve Corinthi
moenia vel Baccho Thebas vel Apolline Delphos
insignis aut Thessala Tempe;
sunt quibus unum opus est intactae Palladis urbem
carmine perpetuo celebrare et
undique decerptam fronti praeponere olivam;
plurimus in Iunonis honorem
aptum dicet equis Argos ditisque Mycenas:
me nec tam patiens Lacedaemon
nec tam Larisae percussit campus opimae
quam domus Albuneae resonantis
et praeceps Anio ac Tiburni lucus et uda
mobilibus pomaria rivis.
albus ut obscuro deterget nubila caelo
saepe Notus neque parturit imbris
perpetuos, sic tu sapiens finire memento
tristitiam vitaeque labores
molli, Plance, mero, seu te fulgentia signis
castra tenent seu densa tenebit
Tiburis umbra tui. Teucer Salamina patremque
cum fugeret, tamen uda Lyaeo
tempora populea fertur vinxisse corona
sic tristis adfatus amicos:
“quo nos cumque feret melior fortuna parente,
ibimus—o socii comitesque,
nil desperandum Teucro duce et auspice Teucro:
certus enim promisit Apollo
ambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram.
o fortes peioraque passi
mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas;
cras ingens iterabimus aequor.”
Lydia, dic per omnis
te deos oro, Sybarin cur properes amando
perdere, cur apricum
oderit campum patiens pulveris atque solis,
cur neque militaris
inter aequalis equitet, Gallica nec lupatis
temperet ora frenis?
cur timet flavum Tiberim tangere? cur olivum
sanguine viperino
cautius vitat neque iam livida gestat armis
bracchia saepe disco,
saepe trans finem iaculo nobilis expedito?
quid latet, ut marinae
filium dicunt Thetidis sub lacrimosa Troiae
funera, ne virilis
cultus in caedem et Lycias proriperet catervas?
Vides ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte nec iam sustineant onus
silvae laborantes geluque
flumina constiterint acuto?
dissolve frigus ligna super foco
large reponens atque benignius
deprome quadrimum Sabina,
o Thaliarche, merum diota.
permitte divis cetera, qui simul
stravere ventos aequore fervido
deproeliantis, nec cupressi
nec veteres agitantur orni.
quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere et
quem Fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro
adpone nec dulcis amores
sperne puer neque tu choreas,
donec virenti canities abest
morosa. nunc et campus et areae
lenesque sub noctem susurri
conposita repetantur hora,
nunc et latentis proditor intumo
gratus puellae risus ab angulo
pignusque dereptum lacertis
aut digito male pertinaci.
Mercuri facunde nepos Atlantis,
qui feros cultus hominum recentum
voce formasti catus et decorae
more palaestrae,
te canam, magni Iovis et deorum
nuntium curvaeque lyrae parentem,
callidum, quidquid placuit, iocoso
condere furto.
te, boves olim nisi reddidisses
per dolum amotas, puerum minaci
voce dum terret, viduus pharetra
risit Apollo.
quin et Atridas duce te superbos
Ilio dives Priamus relicto
Thessalosque ignis et iniqua Troiae
castra fefellit.
tu pias laetis animas reponis
sedibus virgaque levem coerces
aurea turbam, superis deorum
gratus et imis.
Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. ut melius, quidquid erit, pati.
seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrrhenum: sapias, vina liques et spatio brevi
spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.
Quem virum aut heroa lyra vel acri
tibia sumis celebrare, Clio?
quem deum? cuius recinet iocosa
nomen imago
aut in umbrosis Heliconis oris
aut super Pindo gelidove in Haemo?
unde vocalem temere insecutae
Orphea silvae,
arte materna rapidos morantem
fluminum lapsus celeresque ventos,
blandum et auritas fidibus canoris
ducere quercus.
quid prius dicam solitis parentis
laudibus, qui res hominum ac deorum,
qui mare ac terras variisque mundum
temperat horis?
unde nil maius generatur ipso
nec viget quidquam simile aut secundum.
proximos illi tamen occupavit
Pallas honores
proeliis audax. neque te silebo,
Liber et saevis inimica virgo
beluis, nec te, metuende certa
Phoebe sagitta.
dicam et Alciden puerosque Ledae,
hunc equis, illum superare pugnis
nobilem; quorum simul alba nautis
stella refulsit,
defluit saxis agitatus umor,
concidunt venti fugiuntque nubes
et minax, quia sic voluere, ponto
unda recumbit.
Romulum post hos prius an quietum
Pompili regnum memorem, an superbos
Tarquini fascis, dubito, an Catonis
nobile letum:
Regulum et Scauros animaeque magnae
prodigum Paulum superante Poeno
gratus insigni referam camena
Fabriciumque.
hunc et incomptis Curium capillis
utilem bello tulit et Camillum
saeva paupertas et avitus apto
cum lare fundus.
crescit occulto velut arbor aevo
fama Marcelli; micat inter omnis
Iulium sidus velut inter ignis
luna minores.
gentis humanae pater atque custos,
orte Saturno, tibi cura magni
Caesaris fatis data: tu secundo
Caesare regnes.

[¶11] Whether the Parthian, threatening Rome,
His eagles scatter to the wind.
Or follow to their eastern home
Cathay and Ind,
Thy second let him rule below
Thy car shall shake the realms above;
Thy vengeful bolts shall overthrow
Each guilty grove.
Telephus—you praise him still,
His waxen arms, his rosy-tinted neck;
Ah! and all the while I thrill
With jealous pangs I cannot, cannot check
See, my colour comes and goes,
My poor heart flutters, Lydia, and the dew,
Down my cheek soft stealing, shows
What lingering torments rack me through and through.
Oh, 'tis agony te see
Those snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken fray,
Or those ruby lips, where he
Has left strange marks, that show how rough his play!
Never, never look to find
A faithful heart in him whose rage can harm
Sweetest lips, which Venus kind
Has tinctured with her quintessential charm.
Happy, happy; happy they
Whose living love, untroubled by all strife,
Binds them till the last sad day,
Nor parts asunder but with parting life!
O luckless bark! new waves will force you back
To sea. O, haste to make the haven yours!
E'en now, a helpless wrack,
You drift, despoil'd of oars;
The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;
Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain,
Till lash'd with cables round,
A more imperious main.
Your canvass hangs in ribbons, rent and torn;
No gods are left to pray to in fresh need.
A pine of Pontus born
Of noble forest breed,
You boast your name and lineage—madly blind
Can painted timbers quell a seaman's fear?
Beware! or else the wind
Makes you its mock and jeer.
Your trouble late made sick this heart of mine,
And still I love you, still am ill at ease.
O, shun the sea, where shine
The thick-sown Cyclades!
When the false swain was hurrying o'er the deep
His Spartan hostess in the Idaean bark,
Old Nereus laid the unwilling winds asleep,
That all to Fate might hark,
Speaking through him:—“Home in ill hour you take
A prize whom Greece shall claim with troops untold,
Leagued by an oath your marriage tie to break
And Priam's kingdom old.
Alas! what deaths you launch on Dardan realm!
What tolls are waiting, man and horse to tire!
See! Pallas trims her aegis and her helm,
Her chariot and her ire.
Vainly shall you; in Venus' favour strong,
Your tresses comb, and for your dames divide
On peaceful lyre the several parts of song;
Vainly in chamber hide
From spears and Gnossian arrows, barb'd with fate,
And battle's din, and Ajax in the chase
Unconquer'd; those adulterous locks, though late,
Shall gory dust deface.
Hark! 'tis the death-cry of your race! look back!
Ulysses comes, and Pylian Nestor grey;
See! Salaminian Teucer on your track,
And Sthenelus, in the fray
Versed, or with whip and rein, should need require,
No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall know
From far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire,
Pursues you, all aglow;
Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright,
Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade,
And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despite
Boasts to your leman made.
What though Achilles' wrathful fleet postpone
The day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud dames,
Her towers shall fall, the number'd winters flown,
Wrapp'd in Achaenan flames.”
O lovelier than the lovely dame
That bore you, sentence as you please
Those scurril verses, be it flame
Your vengeance craves, or Hadrian seas.
Not Cybele, nor he that haunts
Rich Pytho, worse the brain confounds,
Not Bacchus, nor the Corybants
Clash their loud gongs with fiercer sounds
Than savage wrath; nor sword nor spear
Appals it, no, nor ocean's frown,
Nor ravening fire, nor Jupiter
In hideous ruin crashing down.
Prometheus, forced, they say, to add
To his prime clay some favourite part
From every kind, took lion mad,
And lodged its gall in man's poor heart.
'Twas wrath that laid Thyestes low;
'Tis wrath that oft destruction calls
On cities, and invites the foe
To drive his plough o'er ruin'd walls.
Then calm your spirit; I can tell
How once, when youth in all my veins
Was glowing, blind with rage, I fell
On friend and foe in ribald strains.
Come, let me change my sour for sweet,
And smile complacent as before:
Hear me my palinode repeat,
And give me back your heart once more.
The pleasures of Lucretilis
Tempt Faunus from his Grecian seat;
He keeps my little goats in bliss
Apart from wind, and rain, and heat.
In safety rambling o'er the sward
For arbutes and for thyme they peer,
The ladies of the unfragrant lord,
Nor vipers, green with venom, fear,
Nor savage wolves, of Mars' own breed,
My Tyndaris, while Ustica's dell
Is vocal with the silvan reed,
And music thrills the limestone fell.
Heaven is my guardian; heaven approves
A blameless life, by song made sweet;
Come hither, and the fields and groves
Their horn shall empty at your feet.
Here, shelter'd by a friendiy tree,
In Teian measures you shall sing
Bright Circe and Penelope,
Love-smitten both by one sharp sting.
Here shall you quaff beneath the shade
Sweet Lesbian draughts that injure none,
Nor fear lest Mars the realm invade
Of Semele's Thyonian son,
Lest Cyrus on a foe too weak
Lay the rude hand of wild excess,
His passion on your chaplet wreak,
Or spoil your undeserving dress.
Varus, are your trees in planting? put in none before the vine,
In the rich domain of Tibur, by the walls of Catilus;
There's a power above that hampers all that sober brains design,
And the troubles man is heir to thus are quell'd, and only thus.
Who can talk of want or warfare when the wine is in his head,
Not of thee, good father Bacchus, and of Venus fair and bright?
But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson may be read,
How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with the Lapithae to fight.
And the Thracians too may warn us; truth and falsehood, good and ill,
How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand is heavy on them laid!
Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee 'gainst thy will,
Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy shade!
Silence thou thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyntine horn;
In their train Self-love still follows, dully, desperately blind,
And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its emptyheaded scorn,
And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a window in its mind.
Cupid's mother, cruel dame,
And Semele's Theban boy, and Licence bold,
Bid me kindle into flame
This heart, by waning passion now left cold.
O, the charms of Glycera,
That hue, more dazzling than the Parian stone!
O, that sweet tormenting play,
That too fair face, that blinds when look'd upon!
Venus comes in all her might,
Quits Cyprus for my heart, nor lets me tell
Of the Parthian, bold in flight,
Nor Scythian hordes, nor aught that breaks her spell.
Heap the grassy altar up,
Bring vervain, boys, and sacred frankincense;
Fill the sacrificial cup;
A victim's blood will soothe her vehemence.
Not large my cups, nor rich my cheer,
This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd,
That day the applauding theatre
Your welcome peal'd,
Dear knight Maecenas! as 'twere fain
That your paternal river's banks,
And Vatican, in sportive strain,
Should echo thanks.
For you Calenian grapes are press'd,
And Caecuban; these cups of mine
Falernum's bounty ne'er has bless'd,
Nor Formian vine.
Of Dian's praises, tender maidens, tell;
Of Cynthus' unshorn god, young striplings, sing;
And bright Latona, well
Beloved of Heaven's high king.
Sing her that streams and silvan foliage loves,
Whate'er on Algidus' chill brow is seen,
In Erymanthian groves
Dark-leaved, or Cragus green.
Sing Tempe too, glad youths, in strain as loud,
And Phoebus' birthplace, and that shoulder fair,
His golden quiver proud
And brother's lyre to bear.
His arm shall banish Hunger, Plague, and War
To Persia and to Britain's coast, away
From Rome and Caesar far,
If you have zeal to pray.
No need of Moorish archer's craft
To guard the pure and stainless liver;
He wants not, Fuscus, poison'd shaft
To store his quiver,
Whether he traverse Libyan shoals,
Or Caucasus, forlorn and horrent,
Or lands where far Hydaspes rolls
His fabled torrent.
A wolf, while roaming trouble-free
In Sabine wood, as fancy led me,
Unarm'd I sang my Lalage,
Beheld, and fled me.
Dire monster! in her broad oak woods
Fierce Daunia fosters none such other,
Nor Juba's land, of lion broods
The thirsty mother.
Place me where on the ice-bound plain
No tree is cheer'd by summer breezes,
Where Jove descends in sleety rain
Or sullen freezes;
Place me where none can live for heat,
'Neath Phoebus' very chariot plant me,
That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet,
Shall still enchant me.
You fly me, Chloe, as o'er trackless hills
A young fawn runs her timorous dam to find,
Whom empty terror thrills
Of woods and whispering wind.
Whether 'tis Spring's first shiver, faintly heard
Through the light leaves, or lizards in the brake
The rustling thorns have stirr'd,
Her heart, her knees, they quake.
Yet I, who chase you, no grim lion am,
No tiger fell, to crush you in my gripe:
Come, learn to leave your dam.
For lover's kisses ripe.
Why blush to let our tears unmeasured fall
For one so dear? Begin the mournful stave,
Melpomene, to whom the sire of all
Sweet voice with music gave.
And sleeps he then the heavy sleep of death,
Quintilius? Piety, twin sister dear
Of Justice! naked Truth! unsullied Faith!
When will ye find his peer?
By many a good man wept, Quintilius dies;
By none than you, my Virgil, trulier wept:
Devout in vain, you chide the faithless skies,
Asking your loan ill-kept.
No, though more suasive than the bard of Thrace
You swept the lyre that trees were fain to hear,
Ne'er should the blood revisit his pale face
Whom once with wand severe
Mercury has folded with the sons of night,
Untaught to prayer Fate's prison to unseal.
Ah, heavy grief! but patience makes more light
What sorrow may not heal.
The Muses love me: fear and grief,
The winds may blow them to the sea;
Who quail before the wintry chief
Of Scythia's realm, is nought to me.
What cloud o'er Tiridates lowers,
I care not, I. O, nymph divine
Of virgin springs, with sunniest flowers
A chaplet for my Lamia twine,
Pimplea sweet! my praise were vain
Without thee. String this maiden lyre,
Attune for him the Lesbian strain,
O goddess, with thy sister quire!
What, fight with cups that should give joy?
'Tis barbarous; leave such savage ways
To Thracians. Bacchus, shamefaced boy,
Is blushing at your bloody frays.
The Median sabre! lights and wine!
Was stranger contrast ever seen?
Cease, cease this brawling, comrades mine,
And still upon your elbows lean.
Well, shall I take a toper's part
Of fierce Falernian? let our guest,
Megilla's brother, say what dart
Gave the death-wound that makes him blest.
He hesitates? no other hire
Shall tempt my sober brains. Whate'er
The goddess tames you, no base fire
She kindles; 'tis some gentle fair
Allures you still. Come, tell me truth,
And trust my honour—That the name?
That wild Charybdis yours? Poor youth!
O, you deserved a better flame!
What wizard, what Thessalian spell,
What god can save you, hamper'd thus?
To cope with this Chimaera fell
Would task another Pegasus.
The sea, the earth, the innumerable sand,
Archytas, thou couldst measure; now, alas!
A little dust on Matine shore has spann'd
That soaring spirit; vain it was to pass
The gates of heaven, and send thy soul in quest
O'er air's wide realms; for thou hadst yet to die.
Ay, dead is Pelops' father, heaven's own guest,
And old Tithonus, rapt from earth to sky,
And Minos, made the council-friend of Jove;
And Panthus' son has yielded up his breath
Once more, though down he pluck'd the shield, to prove
His prowess under Troy, and bade grim death
O'er skin and nerves alone exert its power,
Not he, you grant, in nature meanly read.
Yes, all “await the inevitable hour;”
The downward journey all one day must tread.
Some bleed, to glut the war-god's savage eyes;
Fate meets the sailor from the hungry brine;
Youth jostles age in funeral obsequies;
Each brow in turn is touch'd by Proserpine.
Me, too, Orion's mate, the Southern blast,
Whelm'd in deep death beneath the Illyrian wave.
But grudge not, sailor, of driven sand to cast
A handful on my head, that owns no grave.
So, though the eastern tempests loudly threat
Hesperia's main, may green Venusia's crown
Be stripp'd, while you lie warm; may blessings yet
Stream from Tarentum's guard, great Neptune, down,
And gracious Jove, into your open lap!
What! shrink you not from crime whose punishment
Falls on your innocent children? it may hap
Imperious Fate will make yourself repent.
My prayers shall reach the avengers of all wrong;
No expiations shall the curse unbind.
Great though your haste, I would not task you long;
Thrice sprinkle dust, then scud before the wind.
Your heart on Arab wealth is set,
Good Iccius: you would try your steel
On Saba's kings, unconquerd yet,
And make the Mede your fetters feel.
Come, tell me what barbarian fair
Will serve you now, her bridegroom slain?
What page from court with essenced hair
Will tender you the bowl you drain,
Well skill'd to bend the Serian bow
His father carried? Who shall say
That rivers may not uphill flow,
And Tiber's self return one day,
If you would change Panaetius' works,
That costly purchase, and the clan
Of Socrates, for shields and dirks,
Whom once we thought a saner man?
Come, Cnidian, Paphian Venus, come,
Thy well-beloved Cyprus spurn,
Haste, where for thee in Glycera's home
Sweet odours burn.
Bring too thy Cupid, glowing warm,
Graces and Nymphs, unzoned and free,
And Youth, that lacking thee lacks charm,
And Mercury.
What blessing shall the bard entreat
The god he hallows, as he pours
The winecup? Not the mounds of wheat
That load Sardinian threshing floors;
Not Indian gold or ivory—no,
Nor flocks that o'er Calabria stray,
Nor fields that Liris, still and slow,
Is eating, unperceived, away.
Let those whose fate allows them train
Calenum's vine; let trader bold
From golden cups rich liquor drain
For wares of Syria bought and sold,
Heaven's favourite, sooth, for thrice a year
He comes and goes across the brine
Undamaged. I in plenty here
On endives, mallows, succory dine.
O grant me, Phoebus, calm content,
Strength unimpaird, a mind entire,
Old age without dishonour spent,
Nor unbefriended by the lyre!
They call;—if aught in shady dell
We twain have warbled, to remain
Long months or years, now breathe, my shell,
A Roman strain,
Thou, strung by Lesbos' minstrel hand,
The bard, who 'mid the clash of steel,
Or haply mooring to the strand
His batter'd keel,
Of Bacchus and the Muses sung,
And Cupid, still at Venus' side,
And Lycus, beautiful and young,
Dark-hair'd, dark-eyed.
O sweetest lyre, to Phoebus dear,
Delight of Jove's high festival,
Blest balm in trouble, hail and hear
Whene'er I call!
What, Albius! why this passionate despair
For cruel Glycera? why melt your voice
In dolorous strains, because the perjured fair
Has made a younger choice?
See, narrow-brow'd Lycoris, how she glows
For Cyrus! Cyrus turns away his head
To Pholoe's frown; but sooner gentle roes
Apulian wolves shall wed,
Than Pholoe to so mean a conqueror strike:
So Venus wills it; 'neath her brazen yoke
She loves to couple forms and minds unlike,
All for a heartless joke.
For me sweet Love had forged a milder spell;
But Myrtale still kept me her fond slave,
More stormy she than the tempestuous swell
That crests Calabria's wave.
My prayers were scant, my offerings few,
While witless wisdom fool'd my mind;
But now I trim my sails anew,
And trace the course I left behind.
For lo! the sire of heaven on high,
By whose fierce bolts the clouds are riven,
Today through an unclouded sky
His thundering steeds and car has driven.
E'en now dull earth and wandering floods,
And Atlas' limitary range,
And Styx, and Taenarus' dark abodes
Are reeling. He can lowliest change
And loftiest; bring the mighty down
And lift the weak; with whirring flight
Comes Fortune, plucks the monarch's crown,
And decks therewith some meaner wight.
Lady of Antium, grave and stern!
O Goddess, who canst lift the low
To high estate, and sudden turn
A triumph to a funeral show!
Thee the poor hind that tills the soil
Implores; their queen they own in thee,
Who in Bithynian vessel toil
Amid the vex'd Carpathian sea.
Thee Dacians fierce, and Scythian hordes,
Peoples and towns, and Rome, their head,
And mothers of barbarian lords,
And tyrants in their purple dread,
Lest, spurn'd by thee in scorn, should fall
The state's tall prop, lest crowds on fire
To arms, to arms! the loiterers call,
And thrones be tumbled in the mire.
Necessity precedes thee still
With hard fierce eyes and heavy tramp:
Her hand the nails and wedges fill,
The molten lead and stubborn clamp.
Hope, precious Truth in garb of white,
Attend thee still, nor quit thy side
When with changed robes thou tak'st thy flight
In anger from the homes of pride.
Then the false herd, the faithless fair,
Start backward; when the wine runs dry.
The jocund guests, too light to bear
An equal yoke, asunder fly.
O shield our Caesar as he goes
To furthest Britain, and his band,
Rome's harvest! Send on Eastern foes
Their fear, and on the Red Sea strand!
O wounds that scarce have ceased to run!
O brother's blood! O iron time!
What horror have we left undone?
Has conscience shrunk from aught of crime?
What shrine has rapine held in awe?
What altar spared? O haste and beat
The blunted steel we yet may draw
On Arab and on Massagete!
Bid the lyre and cittern play;
Enkindle incense, shed the victim's gore;
Heaven has watch'd o'er Numida,
And brings him safe from far Hispania's shore.
Now, returning, he bestows
On each dear comrade all the love he can;
But to Lamia most he owes,
By whose sweet side he grew from boy to man.
Note we in our calendar
This festal day with whitest mark from Crete:
Let it flow, the old wine-jar,
And ply to Salian time your restless feet.
Damalis tosses off her wine,
But Bassus sure must prove her match tonight.
Give us roses all to twine,
And parsley green, and lilies deathly white.
Every melting eye will rest
On Damalis' lovely face; but none may part
Damalis from our new-found guest;
She clings, and clings, like ivy, round his heart.
Now drink we deep, now featly tread
A measure; now before each shrine
With Salian feasts the table spread;
The time invites us, comrades mine.
'Twas shame to broach, before today,
The Caecuban, while Egypt's dame
Threaten'd our power in dust to lay
And wrap the Capitol in flame,
Girt with her foul emasculate throng,
By Fortune's sweet new wine befool'd,
In hope's ungovern'd weakness strong
To hope for all; but soon she cool'd,
To see one ship from burning 'scape;
Great Caesar taught her dizzy brain,
Made mad by Mareotic grape,
To feel the sobering truth of pain,
And gave her chase from Italy,
As after doves fierce falcons speed,
As hunters 'neath Haemonia's sky
Chase the tired hare, so might he lead
The fiend enchain'd; she sought to die
More nobly, nor with woman's dread
Quail'd at the steel, nor timorously
In her fleet ships to covert fled.
Amid her ruin'd halls she stood
Unblench'd, and fearless to the end
Grasp'd the fell snakes, that all her blood
Might with the cold black venom blend,
Death's purpose flushing in her face;
Nor to our ships the glory gave,
That she, no vulgar dame, should grace
A triumph, crownless, and a slave.
No Persian cumber, boy, for me;
I hate your garlands linden-plaited;
Leave winter's rose where on the tree
It hangs belated.
Wreath me plain myrtle; never think
Plain myrtle either's wear unfitting,
Yours as you wait, mine as I drink
In vine-bower sitting.

> Latin: ille seu Parthos Latio imminentis
egerit iusto domitos triumpho
sive subiectos Orientis orae
Seras et Indos,
te minor latum reget aequos orbem:
tu gravi curru quaties Olympum,
tu parum castis inimica mittes
fulmina lucis.
Cum tu, Lydia, Telephi
cervicem roseam, cerea Telephi
laudas bracchia, vae, meum
fervens difficili bile tumet iecur.
tum nec mens mihi nec color
certa sede manet, umor et in genas
furtim labitur arguens,
quam lentis penitus macerer ignibus.
uror, seu tibi candidos
turparunt umeros inmodicae mero
rixae sive puer furens
inpressit memorem dente labris notam.
non, si me satis audias,
speres perpetuum dulcia barbare
laedentem oscula, quae Venus
quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit.
felices ter et amplius
quos inrupta tenet copula nec malis
divolsus querimoniis
suprema citius solvet amor die.
O navis, referent in mare te novi
fluctus. o quid agis? fortiter occupa
portum. nonne vides, ut
nudum remigio latus
et malus celeri saucius Africo
antemnaeque gemant ac sine funibus
vix durare carinae
possint imperiosius
aequor? non tibi sunt integra lintea,
non di, quos iterum pressa voces malo.
quamvis Pontica pinus,
silvae filia nobilis,
iactes et genus et nomen inutile:
nil pictis timidus navita puppibus
fidit. tu, nisi ventis
debes ludibrium, cave.
nuper sollicitum quae mihi taedium,
nunc desiderium curaque non levis,
interfusa nitentis
vites aequora Cycladas.
Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus
Idaeis Helenen perfidus hospitam,
ingrato celeres obruit otio
ventos ut caneret fera
Nereus fata. “mala ducis avi domum
quam multo repetet Graecia milite
coniurata tuas rumpere nuptias
et regnum Priami vetus.
heu heu, quantus equis, quantus adest viris
sudor, quanta moves funera Dardanae
genti. iam galeam Pallas et aegida
currusque et rabiem parat.
nequiquam Veneris praesidio ferox
pectes caesariem grataque feminis
inbelli cithara carmina divides;
nequiquam thalamo gravis
hastas et calami spicula Cnosii
vitabis strepitumque et celerem sequi
Aiacem: tamen, heu serus, adulteros
crines pulvere collines.
non Laertiaden, exitium tuae
genti, non Pylium Nestora respicis?
urgent inpavidi te Salaminius
Teucer, te Sthenelus, sciens
pugnae sive opus est imperitare equis,
non auriga piger. Merionen quoque
nosces. ecce furit, te reperire atrox,
Tydides melior patre:
quem tu, cervus uti vallis in altera
visum parte lupum graminis inmemor,
sublimi fugies mollis anhelitu,
non hoc pollicitus tuae.
iracunda diem proferet Ilio
matronisque Phrygum classis Achillei;
post certas hiemes uret Achaicus
ignis Iliacas domos.
O matre pulcra filia pulchrior,
quem criminosis cumque voles modum
pones iambis, sive flamma
sive mari libet Hadriano.
non Dindymene, non adytis quatit
mentem sacerdotum incola Pythius,
non Liber aeque, non acuta
sic geminant Corybantes aera,
tristes ut irae, quas neque Noricus
deterret ensis nec mare naufragum
nec saevos ignis nec tremendo
Iuppiter ipse ruens tumultu.
fertur Prometheus addere principi
limo coactus particulam undique
desectam et insani leonis
vim stomacho adposuisse nostro.
irae Thyesten exitio gravi
stravere et altis urbibus ultimae
stetere causae, cur perirent
funditus inprimeretque muris
hostile aratrum exercitus insolens.
conpesce mentem: me quoque pectoris
temptavit in dulci iuventa
fervor et in celeres iambos
misit furentem. nunc ego mitibus
mutare quaero tristia, dum mihi
fias recantatis amica
opprobriis animumque reddas.
Velox amoenum saepe Lucretilem
mutat Lycaeo Faunus et igneam
defendit aestatem capellis
usque meis pluviosque ventos.
inpune tutum per nemus arbutos
quaerunt latentis et thyma deviae
olentis uxores mariti
nec viridis metuunt colubras
nec Martialis haediliae lupos,
utcumque dulci, Tyndari, fistula
valles et Usticae cubantis
levia personuere saxa.
di me tuentur, dis pietas mea
et musa cordi est. hic tibi copia
manabit ad plenum benigno
ruris honorum opulenta cornu.
hic in reducta valle Caniculae
vitabis aestus et fide Teia
dices laborantis in uno
Penelopen vitreamque Circen;
hic innocentis pocula Lesbii
duces sub umbra nec Semeleius
cum Marte confundet Thyoneus
proelia nec metues protervum
suspecta Cyrum, ne male dispari
incontinentis iniciat manus
et scindat haerentem coronam
crinibus inmeritamque vestem.
Nullam, Vare, sacra vite prius severis arborem
circa mite solum Tiburis et moenia Catili;
siccis omnia nam dura deus proposuit neque
mordaces aliter diffugiunt sollicitudines.
quis post vina gravem militiam aut pauperiem crepat?
quis non te potius, Bacche pater, teque, decens Venus?
ac ne quis modici transiliat munera Liberi,
Centaurea monet cum Lapithis rixa super mero
debellata, monet Sithoniis non levis Euhius,
cum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum
discernunt avidi. non ego te, candide Bassareu,
invitum quatiam nec variis obsita frondibus
sub divum rapiam. saeva tene cum Berecyntio
cornu tympana, quae subsequitur caecus amor sui
et tollens vacuum plus nimio gloria verticem
arcanique fides prodiga, perlucidior vitro.
Mater saeva Cupidinum
Thebanaeque iubet me Semelae puer
et lasciva Licentia
finitis animum reddere amoribus.
urit me Glycerae nitor
splendentis Pario marmore purius,
urit grata protervitas
et voltus nimium lubricus adspici.
in me tota ruens Venus
Cyprum deseruit nec patitur Scythas
et versis animosum equis
Parthum dicere nec quae nihil attinent.
hic vivum mihi caespitem, hic
verbenas, pueri, ponite turaque
bimi cum patera meri:
mactata veniet lenior hostia.
Vile potabis modicis Sabinum
cantharis, Graeca quod ego ipse testa
conditum levi, datus in theatro
cum tibi plausus,
clare Maecenas eques, ut paterni
fluminis ripae simul et iocosa
redderet laudes tibi Vaticani
montis imago.
Caecubum et prelo domitam Caleno
tu bibes uvam: mea nec Falernae
temperant vites neque Formiani
pocula colles.
Dianam tenerae dicite virgines,
intonsum pueri dicite Cynthium
Latonamque supremo
dilectam penitus Iovi.
vos laetam fluviis et nemorum coma
quaecumque aut gelido prominet Algido
nigris aut Erymanthi
silvis aut viridis Cragi;
vos Tempe totidem tollite laudibus
natalemque, mares, Delon Apollinis
insignemque pharetra
fraternaque umerum lyra.
hic bellum lacrimosum, hic miseram famem
pestemque a populo et principe Caesare in
Persas atque Britannos
vestra motus aget prece.
Integer vitae scelerisque purus
non eget Mauris iaculis neque arcu
nec venenatis gravida sagittis,
Fusce, pharetra,
sive per Syrtis iter aestuosas
sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum vel quae loca fabulosus
lambit Hydaspes.
namque me silva lupus in Sabina,
dum meam canto Lalagen et ultra
terminum curis vagor expeditis,
fugit inermem;
quale portentum neque militaris
Daunias latis alit aesculetis
nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum
arida nutrix.
pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
arbor aestiva recreatur aura,
quod latus mundi nebulae malusque
Iuppiter urget;
pone sub curru nimium propinqui
solis in terra domibus negata:
dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
dulce loquentem.
Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloe,
quaerenti pavidam montibus aviis
matrem non sine vano
aurarum et siluae metu.
nam seu mobilibus veris inhorruit
adventus foliis seu virides rubum
dimovere lacertae,
et corde et genibus tremit.
atqui non ego te tigris ut aspera
Gaetulusve leo frangere persequor:
tandem desine matrem
tempestiva sequi viro.
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
tam cari capitis? praecipe lugubris
cantus, Melpomene, cui liquidam pater
vocem cum cithara dedit.
ergo Quintilium perpetuus sopor
urget? cui Pudor et Iustitiae soror
incorrupta Fides nudaque Veritas
quando ullum inveniet parem?
multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,
nulli flebilior quam tibi, Vergili.
tu, frustra pius, heu non ita creditum
poscis Quintilium deos.
quid? si Threicio blandius Orpheo
auditam moderere arboribus fidem,
num vanae redeat sanguis imagini,
quam virga semel horrida
non lenis precibus fata recludere
nigro conpulerit Mercurius gregi?
durum: sed levius fit patientia
quidquid corrigere est nefas.
Parcius iunctas quatiunt fenestras
iactibus crebris iuvenes protervi
nec tibi somnos adimunt amatque
ianua limen,
quae prius multum facilis movebat
cardines. audis minus et minus iam:
“me tuo longas pereunte noctes,
Lydia, dormis?”
invicem moechos anus arrogantis
flebis in solo levis angiportu
Thracio bacchante magis sub inter-
lunia vento,
cum tibi flagrans amor et libido,
quae solet matres furiare equorum,
saeviet circa iecur ulcerosum
non sine questu,
laeta quod pubes hedera virenti
gaudeat pulla magis atque myrto,
aridas frondes hiemis sodali
dedicet Euro.
Musis amicus tristitiam et metus
tradam protervis in mare Creticum
portare ventis, quis sub Arcto
rex gelidae metuatur orae,
quid Tiridaten terreat, unice
securus. o quae fontibus integris
gaudes, apricos necte flores,
necte meo Lamiae coronam,
Piplei dulcis. nil sine te mei
prosunt honores: hunc fidibus novis,
hunc Lesbio sacrare plectro
teque tuasque decet sorores.
Natis in usum laetitiae scyphis
pugnare Thracum est: tollite barbarum
morem verecundumque Bacchum
sanguineis prohibete rixis.
vino et lucernis Medus acinaces
immane quantum discrepat: inpium
lenite clamorem sodales
et cubito remanete presso.
voltis severi me quoque sumere
partem Falerni? dicat Opuntiae
frater Megillae, quo beatus
volnere, qua pereat sagitta.
cessat voluntas? non alia bibam
mercede. quae te cumque domat Venus,
non erubescendis adurit
ignibus ingenuoque semper
amore peccas. quidquid habes, age,
depone tutis auribus. a miser,
quanta laborabas Charybdi,
digne puer meliore flamma.
quae saga, quis te solvere Thessalis
magus venenis, quis poterit deus?
vix inligatum te triformi
Pegasus expediet Chimaera.
Te maris et terrae numeroque carentis harenae
mensorem cohibent, Archyta,
pulveris exigui prope litus parva Matinum
munera nec quicquam tibi prodest
aerias temptasse domos animoque rotundum
percurrisse polum morituro.
occidit et Pelopis genitor, conviva deorum,
Tithonusque remotus in auras
et Iovis arcanis Minos admissus habentque
Tartara Panthoiden iterum Orco
demissum, quamvis clipeo Troiana refixo
tempora testatus nihil ultra
nervos atque cutem morti concesserat atrae,
iudice te non sordidus auctor
naturae verique. sed omnis una manet nox
et calcanda semel via leti.
dant alios Furiae torvo spectacula Marti,
exitio est avidum mare nautis;
mixta senum ac iuvenum densentur funera, nullum
saeva caput Proserpina fugit:
me quoque devexi rapidus comes Orionis
Illyricis Notus obruit undis.
at tu, nauta, vagae ne parce malignus harenae
ossibus et capiti inhumato
particulam dare: sic quodcumque minabitur Eurus
fluctibus Hesperiis Venusinae
plectantur silvae te sospite multaque merces
unde potest tibi defluat aequo
ab Iove Neptunoque sacri custode Tarenti.
neglegis inmeritis nocituram
postmodo te natis fraudem conmittere? fors et
debita iura vicesque superbae
te maneant ipsum: precibus non linquar inultis
teque piacula nulla resolvent.
quamquam festinas, non est mora longa; licebit
iniecto ter pulvere curras.
Icci, beatis nunc Arabum invides
gazis et acrem militiam paras
non ante devictis Sabaeae
regibus horribilique Medo
nectis catenas? quae tibi virginum
sponso necato barbara serviet,
puer quis ex aula capillis
ad cyathum statuetur unctis
doctus sagittas tendere Sericas
arcu paterno? quis neget arduis
pronos relabi posse rivos
montibus et Tiberim reverti,
cum tu coemptos undique nobilis
libros Panaeti Socraticam et domum
mutare loricis Hiberis,
pollicitus meliora, tendis?
O Venus regina Cnidi Paphique,
sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantis
ture te multo Glycerae decoram
transfer in aedem.
fervidus tecum puer et solutis
Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae
et parum comis sine te Iuventas
Mercuriusque.
Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem
vates? quid orat de patera novum
fundens liquorem? non opimae
Sardiniae segetes feracis,
non aestuosae grata Calabriae
armenta, non aurum aut ebur Indicum,
non rura, quae Liris quieta
mordet aqua taciturnus amnis.
premant Calenam falce quibus dedit
fortuna vitem, dives ut aureis
mercator exsiccet culillis
vina Syra reparata merce,
dis carus ipsis, quippe ter et quater
anno revisens aequor Atlanticum
inpune. me pascunt olivae,
me cichorea levesque malvae.
frui paratis et valido mihi,
Latoe, dones et precor integra
cum mente nec turpem senectam
degere nec cithara carentem.
Poscimur. si quid vacui sub umbra
lusimus tecum, quod et hunc in annum
vivat et pluris, age dic Latinum,
barbite, carmen,
Lesbio primum modulate civi,
qui ferox bello tamen, inter arma
sive iactatam religarat udo
litore navim,
Liberum et Musas Veneremque et illi
semper haerentem puerum canebat
et Lycum nigris oculis nigroque
crine decorum.
o decus Phoebi et dapibus supremi
grata testudo Iovis, o laborum
dulce lenimen, mihi cumque salve
rite vocanti!
Albi, ne doleas plus nimio memor
inmitis Glycerae neu miserabilis
decantes elegos, cur tibi iunior
laesa praeniteat fide.
insignem tenui fronte Lycorida
Cyri torret amor, Cyrus in asperam
declinat Pholoen: sed prius Apulis
iungentur capreae lupis
quam turpi Pholoe peccet adultero.
sic visum Veneri, cui placet inpares
formas atque animos sub iuga aenea
saevo mittere cum ioco.
ipsum me melior cum peteret Venus,
grata detinuit compede Myrtale
libertina, fretis acrior Hadriae
curvantis Calabros sinus.
Parcus deorum cultor et infrequens,
insanientis dum sapientiae
consultus erro, nunc retrorsum
vela dare atque iterare cursus
cogor relictos: namque Diespiter,
igni corusco nubila dividens
plerumque, per purum tonantis
egit equos volucremque currum,
quo bruta tellus et vaga flumina,
quo Styx et invisi horrida Taenari
sedes Atlanteusque finis
concutitur. valet ima summis
mutare et insignem attenuat deus
obscura promens; hinc apicem rapax:
Fortuna cum stridore acuto
sustulit, hic posuisse gaudet.
O diva, gratum quae regis Antium,
praesens vel imo tollere de gradu
mortale corpus vel superbos
vertere funeribus triumphos:
te pauper ambit sollicita prece
ruris colonus, te dominam aequoris
quicumque Bithyna lacessit
Carpathium pelagus carina;
te Dacus asper, te profugi Scythae
urbesque gentesque et Latium ferox
regumque matres barbarorum et
purpurei metuunt tyranni,
iniurioso ne pede proruas
stantem columnam neu populus frequens
ad arma, cessantis ad arma
concitet imperiumque frangat;
te semper anteit saeva Necessitas,
clavos trabalis et cuneos manu
gestans aena nec severus
uncus abest liquidumque plumbum;
te Spes et albo rara Fides colit
velata panno nec comitem abnegat,
utcumque mutata potentis
veste domos inimica linquis,
at volgus infidum et meretrix retro
periura cedit, diffugiunt cadis
cum faece siccatis amici,
ferre iugum pariter dolosi:
serves iturum Caesarem in ultimos
orbis Britannos et iuvenum recens
examen Eois timendum
partibus Oceanoque rubro.
heu heu, cicatricum et sceleris pudet
fratrumque. quid nos dura refugimus
aetas? quid intactum nefasti
liquimus? unde manum iuventus
metu deorum continuit? quibus
pepercit aris? o utinam nova
incude diffingas retusum in
Massagetas Arabasque ferrum.
Et ture et fidibus iuvat
placare et vituli sanguine debito
custodes Numidae deos,
qui nunc Hesperia sospes ab ultima
caris multa sodalibus,
nulli plura tamen dividet oscula
quam dulci Lamiae, memor
actae non alio rege puertiae
mutataeque simul togae.
Cressa ne careat pulcra dies nota
neu promptae modus amphorae
neu morem in Salium sit requies pedum
neu multi Damalis meri
Bassum Threicia vincat amystide
neu desint epulis rosae
neu vivax apium neu breve lilium.
omnes in Damalin putris
deponent oculos nec Damalis novo
divelletur adultero
lascivis hederis ambitiosior.
Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero
pulsanda tellus; nunc Saliaribus
ornare pulvinar deorum
tempus erat dapibus, sodales.
antehac nefas depromere Caecubum
cellis avitis, dum Capitolio
regina dementis ruinas,
funus et imperio parabat
contaminato cum grege turpium
morbo virorum quidlibet inpotens
sperare fortunaque dulci
ebria. sed minuit furorem
vix una sospes navis ab ignibus
mentemque lymphatam Mareotico
redegit in veros timores
Caesar ab Italia volantem
remis adurgens, accipiter velut
mollis columbas aut leporem citus
venator in campis nivalis
Haemoniae, daret ut catenis
fatale monstrum. quae generosius
perire quaerens nec muliebriter
expavit ensem nec latentis
classe cita reparavit oras.
ausa et iacentem visere regiam
voltu sereno, fortis et asperas
tractare serpentes, ut atrum
corpore conbiberet venenum,
deliberata morte ferocior;
saevis Liburnis scilicet invidens
privata deduci superbo,
non humilis mulier, triumpho.
Persicos odi, puer, adparatus,
displicent nexae philyra coronae,
mitte sectari, rosa quo locorum
sera moretur.
simplici myrto nihil adlabores
sedulus curo: neque te ministrum
dedecet myrtus neque me sub arta
vite bibentem.

## 2. Book II

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/2/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/2/#p-N

[¶0] The broils that from Metellus date,
The secret springs, the dark intrigues,
The freaks of Fortune, and the great
Confederate in disastrous leagues,
And arms with uncleansed slaughter red,
A work of danger and distrust,
You treat, as one on fire should tread
Scarce hid by treacherous ashen crust.

> Latin: Motum ex Metello consule civicum
bellique causas et vitia et modos
ludumque Fortunae gravisque
principum amicitias et arma
nondum expiatis uncta cruoribus,
periculosae plenum opus aleae,
tractas et incedis per ignis
suppositos cineri doloso.

[¶1] Let Tragedy's stern muse be mute
Awhile; and when your order'd page
Has told Rome's tale, that buskin'd foot
Again shall mount the Attic stage,
Pollio, the pale defendant's shield,
In deep debate the senate's stay,
The hero of Dalmatic field
By Triumph crown'd with deathless bay.

> Latin: paulum severae musa tragoediae
desit theatris: mox ubi publicas
res ordinaris, grande munus
Cecropio repetes cothurno,
insigne maestis praesidium reis
et consulenti, Pollio, curiae,
cui laurus aeternos honores
Delmatico peperit triumpho.

[¶2] E'en now with trumpet's threatening blare
You thrill our ears; the clarion brays;
The lightnings of the armour scare
The steed, and daunt the rider's gaze.

> Latin: iam nunc minaci murmure cornuum
perstringis auris, iam litui strepunt,
iam fulgor armorum fugacis
terret equos equitumque voltus.

[¶3] Methinks I hear of leaders proud
With no uncomely dust distain'd,
And all the world by conquest bow'd,
And only Cato's soul unchain'd.

> Latin: audire magnos iam videor duces,
non indecoro pulvere sordidos
et cuncta terrarum subacta
praeter atrocem animum Catonis.

[¶4] Yes, Juno and the powers on high
That left their Afric to its doom,
Have led the victors' progeny
As victims to Jugurtha's tomb.

> Latin: Iuno et deorum quisquis amicior
Afris inulta cesserat inpotens
tellure victorum nepotes
rettulit inferias Iugurthae.

[¶5] What field, by Latian blood-drops fed,
Proclaims not the unnatural deeds
It buries, and the earthquake dread
Whose distant thunder shook the Medes?

> Latin: quis non Latino sanguine pinguior
campus sepulcris inpia proelia
testatur auditumque Medis
Hesperiae sonitum ruinae?

[¶6] What gulf, what river has not seen
Those sights of sorrow? nay, what sea
Has Daunian carnage yet left green?

> Latin: qui gurges aut quae flumina lugubris
ignara belli? quod mare Dauniae
non decoloravere caedes?

[¶7] What coast from Roman blood is free?

> Latin: quae caret ora cruore nostro?

[¶8] But pause, gay Muse, nor leave your play
Another Cean dirge to sing;
With me to Venus' bower away,
And there attune a lighter string.
The silver, Sallust, shows not fair
While buried in the greedy mine:
You love it not till moderate wear
Have given it shine.
Honour to Proculeius! he
To brethren play'd a father's part;
Fame shall embalm through years to be
That noble heart.
Who curbs a greedy soul may boast
More power than if his broad-based throne
Bridged Libya's sea, and either coast
Were all his own.
Indulgence bids the dropsy grow;
Who fain would quench the palate's flame
Must rescue from the watery foe
The pale weak frame.
Phraates, throned where Cyrus sate,
May count for blest with vulgar herds,
But not with Virtue; soon or late
From lying words
She weans men's lips; for him she keeps
The crown, the purple, and the bays,
Who dares to look on treasure-heaps
With unblench'd gaze.
An equal mind, when storms o'ercloud,
Maintain, nor 'neath a brighter sky
Let pleasure make your heart too proud,
O Dellius, Dellius! sure te die,
Whether in gloom you spend each year,
Or through long holydays at ease
In grassy nook your spirit cheer
With old Falernian vintages,
Where poplar pale, and pine-tree high
Their hospitable shadows spread
Entwined, and panting waters try
To hurry down their zigzag bed.
Bring wine and scents, and roses' bloom,
Too brief, alas! to that sweet place;
While life, and fortune, and the loom
Of the Three Sisters yield you grace.
Soon must you leave the woods you buy,
Your villa, wash'd by Tiber's flow,
Leave,—and your treasures, heap'd so high,
Your reckless heir will level low.
Whether from Argos' founder born
In wealth you lived beneath the sun,
Or nursed in beggary and scorn,
You fall to Death, who pities none.
One way all travel; the dark urn
Shakes each man's lot, that soon or late
Will force him, hopeless of return,
On board the exile-ship of Fate.
Why, Xanthias, blush to own you love
Your slave? Briseis, long ago,
A captive, could Achilles move
With breast of snow.
Tecmessa's charms enslaved her lord,
Stout Ajax, heir of Telamon;
Atrides, in his pride, adored
The maid he won,
When Troy to Thessaly gave way,
And Hector's all too quick decease
Made Pergamus an easier prey
To wearied Greece.
What if, as auburn Phyllis' mate,
You graft yourself on regal stem?
Oh yes! be sure her sires were great;
She weeps for them.
Believe me, from no rascal scum
Your charmer sprang; so true a flame,
Such hate of greed, could never come
From vulgar dame.
With honest fervour I commend
Those lips, those eyes; you need not fear
A rival, hurrying on to end
His fortieth year.
Septimius, who with me would brave
Far Gades, and Cantabrian land
Untamed by Rome, and Moorish wave
That whirls the sand;
Fair Tibur, town of Argive kings,
There would I end my days serene,
At rest from seas and travellings,
And service seen.
Should angry Fate those wishes foil,
Then let me seek Galesus, sweet
To skin-clad sheep, and that rich soil,
The Spartan's seat.
O, what can match the green recess,
Whose honey not to Hybla yields,
Whose olives vie with those that bless
Venafrum's fields?
Long springs, mild winters glad that spot
By Jove's good grace, and Aulon, dear
To fruitful Bacchus, envies not
Falernian cheer.
That spot, those happy heights desire
Our sojourn; there, when life shall end,
Your tear shall dew my yet warm pyre,
Your bard and friend.
O, oft with me in troublous time
Involved, when Brutus warr'd in Greece,
Who gives you back to your own clime
And your own gods, a man of peace,
Pompey, the earliest friend I knew,
With whom I oft cut short the hours
With wine, my hair bright bathed in dew
Of Syrian oils, and wreathed with flowers?
With you I shared Philippi's rout,
Unseemly parted from my shield,
When Valour fell, and warriors stout
Were tumbled on the inglorious field:
But I was saved by Mercury,
Wrapp'd in thick mist, yet trembling sore,
While you to that tempestuous sea
Were swept by battle's tide once more.
Come, pay to Jove the feast you owe;
Lay down those limbs, with warfare spent,
Beneath my laurel; nor be slow
To drain my cask; for you 'twas meant.
Lethe's true draught is Massic wine;
Fill high the goblet; pour out free
Rich streams of unguent. Who will twine
The hasty wreath from myrtle-tree
Or parsley? Whom will Venus seat
Chairman of cups? Are Bacchants sane?
Then I'll be sober. O, 'tis sweet
To fool, when friends come home again!
Had chastisement for perjured truth,
Barine, mark'd you with a curse—
Did one wry nail, or one black tooth,
But make you worse—
I'd trust you; but, when plighted lies
Have pledged you deepest, lovelier far
You sparkle forth, of all young eyes
The ruling star.
'Tis gain to mock your mother's bones,
And night's still signs, and all the sky,
And gods, that on their glorious thrones
Chill Death defy.
Ay, Venus smiles; the pure nymphs smile,
And Cupid, tyrant-lord of hearts,
Sharpening on bloody stone the while
His fiery darts.
New captives fill the nets you weave;
New slaves are bred; and those before,
Though oft they threaten, never leave
Your godless door.
The mother dreads you for her son,
The thrifty sire, the new-wed bride,
Lest, lured by you, her precious one
Should leave her side.
The rain, it rains not every day
On the soak'd meads; the Caspian main
Not always feels the unequal sway
Of storms, nor on Armenia's plain,
Dear Valgius, lies the cold dull snow
Through all the year; nor northwinds keen
Upon Garganian oakwoods blow,
And strip the ashes of their green.
You still with tearful tones pursue
Your lost, lost Mystes; Hesper sees
Your passion when he brings the dew,
And when before the sun he flees.
Yet not for loved Antilochus
Grey Nestor wasted all his years
In grief; nor o'er young Troilus
His parents' and his sisters' tears
For ever flow'd. At length have done
With these soft sorrows; rather tell
Of Caesar's trophies newly won,
And hoar Niphates' icy fell,
And Medus' flood, 'mid conquer'd tribes
Rolling a less presumptuous tide,
And Scythians taught, as Rome prescribes,
Henceforth o'er narrower steppes to ride.
Licinius, trust a seaman's lore:
Steer not too boldly to the deep,
Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shore
Too closely creep.
Who makes the golden mean his guide,
Shuns miser's cabin, foul and dark,
Shuns gilded roofs, where pomp and pride
Are envy's mark.
With fiercer blasts the pine's dim height
Is rock'd; proud towers with heavier fall
Crash to the ground; and thunders smite
The mountains tall.
In sadness hope, in gladness fear
'Gainst coming change will fortify
Your breast. The storms that Jupiter
Sweeps o'er the sky
He chases. Why should rain today
Bring rain tomorrow? Python's foe
Is pleased sometimes his lyre to play,
Nor bends his bow.
Be brave in trouble; meet distress
With dauntless front; but when the gale
Too prosperous blows, be wise no less,
And shorten sail.
O ask not what those sons of war,
Cantabrian, Scythian, each intend,
Disjoin'd from us by Hadria's bar,
Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spend
A life so simple. Youth removes,
And Beauty too; and hoar Decay
Drives out the wanton tribe of Loves
And Sleep, that came or night or day.
The sweet spring-flowers not always keep
Their bloom, nor moonlight shines the same
Each evening. Why with thoughts too deep
O'ertask a mind of mortal frame?
Why not, just thrown at careless ease
'Neath plane or pine, our locks of grey
Perfumed with Syrian essences
And wreathed with roses, while we may,
Lie drinking? Bacchus puts to shame
The cares that waste us. Where's the slave
To quench the fierce Falernian's flame
With water from the passing wave?
Who'll coax coy Lyde from her home?
Go, bid her take her ivory lyre,
The runaway, and haste to come,
Her wild hair bound with Spartan tire.
The weary war where fierce Numantia bled,
Fell Hannibal, the swoln Sicilian main
Purpled with Punic blood—not mine to wed
These to the lyre's soft strain,
Nor cruel Lapithae, nor, mad with wine,
Centaurs, nor, by Herculean arm o'ercome,
The earth-born youth, whose terrors dimm'd the shine
Of the resplendent dome
Of ancient Saturn. You, Maecenas, best
In pictured prose of Caesar's warrior feats
Will tell, and captive kings with haughty crest
Led through the Roman streets.
On me the Muse has laid her charge to tell
Of your Licymnia's voice, the lustrous hue
Of her bright eye, her heart that beats so well
To mutual passion true:
How nought she does but lends her added grace,
Whether she dance, or join in bantering play,
Or with soft arms the maiden choir embrace
On great Diana's day.
Say, would you change for all the wealth possest
By rich Achaemenes or Phrygia's heir,
Or the full stores of Araby the blest,
One lock of her dear hair,
While to your burning lips she bends her neck,
Or with kind cruelty denies the due
She means you not to beg for, but to take,
Or snatches it from you?
Black day he chose for planting thee,
Accurst he rear'd thee from the ground,
The bane of children yet to be,
The scandal of the village round.
His father's throat the monster press'd
Beside, and on his hearthstone spilt,
I ween, the blood of midnight guest;
Black Colchian drugs, whate'er of guilt
Is hatch'd on earth, he dealt in all—
Who planted in my rural stead
Thee, fatal wood, thee, sure to fall
Upon thy blameless master's head.
The dangers of the hour! no thought
We give them; Punic seaman's fear
Is all of Bosporus, nor aught
Reeks he of pitfalls otherwhere;
The soldier fears the mask'd retreat
Of Parthia; Parthia dreads the thrall
Of Rome; but Death with noiseless feet
Has stolen and will steal on all.
How near dark Pluto's court I stood,
And Aeacus' judicial throne,
The blest seclusion of the good,
And Sappho, with sweet lyric moan
Bewailing her ungentle sex,
And thee, Alcaeus, louder far
Chanting thy tale of woful wrecks,
Of woful exile, woful war!
In sacred awe the silent dead
Attend on each: but when the song
Of combat tells and tyrants fled,
Keen ears, press'd shoulders, closer throng.
What marvel, when at those sweet airs
The hundred-headed beast spell-bound
Each black ear droops, and Furies' hairs
Uncoil their serpents at the sound?
Prometheus too and Pelops' sire
In listening lose the sense of woe;
Orion hearkens to the lyre,
And lets the lynx and lion go.
Ah, Postumus! they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death's indomitable power;
Not though three hundred bullocks flame
Each year, to soothe the tearless king
Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame
And Tityos in his watery ring,
That circling flood, which all must stem,
Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,
Wearers of haughtiest diadem,
Or humblest tillers of the fields.
In vain we shun war's contact red
Or storm-tost spray of Hadrian main:
In vain, the season through, we dread
For our frail lives Scirocco's bane.
Cocytus' black and stagnant ooze
Must welcome you, and Danaus' seed
Ill-famed, and ancient Sisyphus
To never-ending toil decreed.
Your land, your house, your lovely bride
Must lose you; of your cherish'd trees
None to its fleeting master's side
Will cleave, but those sad cypresses.
Your heir, a larger soul, will drain
The hundred-padlock'd Caecuban,
And richer spilth the pavement stain
Than e'er at pontiff's supper ran.
Few roods of ground the piles we raise
Will leave to plough; ponds wider spread
Than Lucrine lake will meet the gaze
On every side; the plane unwed
Will top the elm; the violet-bed,
The myrtle, each delicious sweet,
On olive-grounds their scent will shed,
Where once were fruit-trees yielding meat;
Thick bays will screen the midday range
Of fiercest suns. Not such the rule
Of Romulus, and Cato sage,
And all the bearded, good old school.
Each Roman's wealth was little worth,
His country's much; no colonnade
For private pleasance wooed the North
With cool “prolixity of shade.”
None might the casual sod disdain
To roof his home; a town alone,
At public charge, a sacred fane
Were honour'd with the pomp of stone.
For ease, in wide Aegean caught,
The sailor prays, when clouds are hiding
The moon, nor shines of starlight aught
For seaman's guiding:
For ease the Mede, with quiver gay:
For ease rude Thrace, in battle cruel:
Can purple buy it, Grosphus? Nay,
Nor gold, nor jewel.
No pomp, no lictor clears the way
'Mid rabble-routs of troublous feelings,
Nor quells the cares that sport and play
Round gilded ceilings.
More happy he whose modest board
His father's well-worn silver brightens;
No fear, nor lust for sordid hoard,
His light sleep frightens.
Why bend our bows of little span?
Why change our homes for regions under
Another sun? What exiled man
From self can sunder?
Care climbs the bark, and trims the sail,
Curst fiend! nor troops of horse can 'scape her,
More swift than stag, more swift than gale
That drives the vapour.
Blest in the present, look not forth
On ills beyond, but soothe each bitter
With slow, calm smile. No suns on earth
Unclouded glitter.
Achilles' light was quench'd at noon;
A long decay Tithonus minish'd;
My hours, it may be, yet will run
When yours are flnish'd.
For you Sicilian heifers low,
Bleat countless flocks; for you are neighing
Proud coursers; Afric purples glow
For your arraying
With double dyes; a small domain,
The soul that breathed in Grecian harping,
My portion these; and high disdain
Of ribald carping.
Why rend my heart with that sad sigh?
It cannot please the gods or me
That you, Maecenas, first should die,
My pillar of prosperity.
Ah! should I lose one half my soul
Untimely, can the other stay
Behind it? Life that is not whole,
Is that as sweet? The self-same day
Shall crush us twain; no idle oath
Has Horace sworn; whene'er you go,
We both will travel, travel both
The last dark journey down below.
No, not Chimaera's fiery breath,
Nor Gyas, could he rise again,
Shall part us; Justice, strong as death,
So wills it; so the Fates ordain.
Whether 'twas Libra saw me born
Or angry Scorpio, lord malign
Of natal hour, or Capricorn,
The tyrant of the western brine,
Our planets sure with concord strange
Are blended. You by Jove's blest power
Were snatch'd from out the baleful range
Of Saturn, and the evil hour
Was stay'd, when rapturous benches full
Three times the auspicious thunder peal'd;
Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull,
Had slain; but Faunus, strong to shield
The friends of Mercury, check'd the blow
In mid descent. Be sure to pay
The victims and the fane you owe;
Your bard a humbler lamb will slay.
Carven ivory have I none
No golden cornice in my dwelling shines;
Pillars choice of Libyan stone
Upbear no architrave from Attic mines;
'Twas not mine to enter in
To Attalus' broad realms, an unknown heir,
Nor for me fair clients spin
Laconian purples for their patron's wear.
Truth is mine, and Genius mine;
The rich man comes, and knocks at my low door:
Favour'd thus, I ne'er repine,
Nor weary out indulgent Heaven for more:
In my Sabine homestead blest,
Why should I further tax a generous friend?
Suns are hurrying suns a-west,
And newborn moons make speed to meet their end.
You have hands to square and hew
Vast marble-blocks, hard on your day of doom,
Ever building mansions new,
Nor thinking of the mansion of the tomb.
Now you press on ocean's bound,
Where waves on Baiae beat, as earth were scant;
Now absorb your neighbour's ground,
And tear his landmarks up, your own to plant.
Hedges set round clients' farms
Your avarice tramples; see, the outcasts fly,
Wife and husband, in their arms
Their fathers' gods, their squalid family.
Yet no hall that wealth e'er plann'd
Waits you more surely than the wider room
Traced by Death's yet greedier hand.
Why strain so far? you cannot leap the tomb.
Earth removes the impartial sod
Alike for beggar and for monarch's child:
Nor the slave of Hell's dark god
Convey'd Prometheus back, with bribe beguiled.
Pelops he and Pelops' sire
Holds, spite of pride, in close captivity;
Beggars, who of labour tire,
Call'd or uncall'd, he hears and sets them free.
Bacchus I saw in mountain glades
Retired (believe it, after years!)
Teaching his strains to Dryad maids,
While goat-hoof'd satyrs prick'd their ears.
Evoe! my eyes with terror glare;
My heart is revelling with the god;
'Tis madness! Evoe! spare, O spare,
Dread wielder of the ivied rod!
Yes, I may sing the Thyiad crew,
The stream of wine, the sparkling rills
That run with milk, and honey-dew
That from the hollow trunk distils;
And I may sing thy consort's crown,
New set in heaven, and Pentheus' hall
With ruthless ruin thundering down,
And proud Lycurgus' funeral.
Thou turn'st the rivers, thou the sea;
Thou, on far summits, moist with wine,
Thy Bacchants' tresses harmlessly
Dost knot with living serpent-twine.
Thou, when the giants, threatening wrack,
Were clambering up Jove's citadel,
Didst hurl o'erweening Rhoetus back,
In tooth and claw a lion fell.
Who knew thy feats in dance and play
Deem'd thee belike for war's rough game
Unmeet: but peace and battle-fray
Found thee, their centre, still the same.
Grim Cerberus wagg'd his tail to see
Thy golden horn, nor dreamd of wrong.
But gently fawning, follow'd thee,
And lick'd thy feet with triple tongue.
No vulgar wing, nor weakly plied,
Shall bear me through the liquid sky;
A two-form'd bard, no more to bide
Within the range of envy's eye
'Mid haunts of men. I, all ungraced
By gentle blood, I, whom you call
Your friend, Maecenas, shall not taste
Of death, nor chafe in Lethe's thrall.
E'en now a rougher skin expands
Along my legs: above I change
To a white bird; and o'er my hands
And shoulders grows a plumage strange:
Fleeter than Icarus, see me float
O'er Bosporus, singing as I go,
And o'er Gaetulian sands remote,
And Hyperborean fields of snow;
By Dacian horde, that masks its fear
Of Marsic steel, shall I be known,
And furthest Scythian: Spain shall hear
My warbling, and the banks of Rhone.
No dirges for my fancied death;
No weak lament, no mournful stave;
All clamorous grief were waste of breath,
And vain the tribute of a grave.

> Latin: sed ne relictis, Musa procax, iocis
Ceae retractes munera neniae,
mecum Dionaeo sub antro
quaere modos leviore plectro.
Nullus argento color est avaris
abdito terris, inimice lamnae
Crispe Sallusti, nisi temperato
splendeat usu.
vivet extento Proculeius aevo,
notus in fratres animi paterni:
illum aget penna metuente solvi
Fama superstes.
latius regnes avidum domando
spiritum quam si Libyam remotis
Gadibus iungas et uterque Poenus
serviat uni.
crescit indulgens sibi dirus hydrops
nec sitim pellit, nisi causa morbi
fugerit venis et aquosus albo
corpore languor.
redditum Cyri solio Phraaten
dissidens plebi numero beatorum
eximit Virtus populumque falsis
dedocet uti
vocibus, regnum et diadema tutum
deferens uni propriamque laurum
quisquis ingentis oculo inretorto
spectat acervos.
Aequam memento rebus in arduis
servare mentem, non secus in bonis
ab insolenti temperatam
laetitia, moriture Delli,
seu maestus omni tempore vixeris
seu te in remoto gramine per dies
festos reclinatum bearis
interiore nota Falerni.
quo pinus ingens albaque populus
umbram hospitalem consociare amant
ramis? quid obliquo laborat
lympha fugax trepidare rivo?
huc vina et unguenta et nimium brevis
flores amoenae ferre iube rosae,
dum res et aetas et sororum
fila trium patiuntur atra.
cedes coemptis saltibus et domo
villaque, flavos quam Tiberis lavit,
cedes et exstructis in altum
divitiis potietur heres.
divesne prisco natus ab Inacho
nil interest an pauper et infima
de gente sub divo moreris:
victima nil miserantis Orci.
omnes eodem cogimur, omnium
versatur urna serius ocius
sors exitura et nos in aeternum
exilium inpositura cumbae.
Ne sit ancillae tibi amor pudori,
Xanthia Phoceu: prius insolentem
serva Briseis niveo colore
movit Achillem,
movit Aiacem Telamone natum
forma captivae dominum Tecmessae,
arsit Atrides medio in triumpho
virgine rapta,
barbarae postquam cecidere turmae
Thessalo victore et ademptus Hector
tradidit fessis leviora tolli
Pergama Grais.
nescias an te generum beati
Phyllidis flavae decorent parentes:
regium certe genus, et penatis
maeret iniquos.
crede non illam tibi de scelesta
plebe dilectam neque sic fidelem,
sic lucro aversam potuisse nasci
matre pudenda.
bracchia et voltum teretesque suras
integer laudo: fuge suspicari,
cuius octavum trepidavit aetas
claudere lustrum.
Nondum subacta ferre iugum valet
cervice, nondum munia conparis
aequare nec tauri ruentis
in venerem tolerare pondus;
circa virentis est animus tuae
campos iuvencae nunc fluviis gravem
solantis aestum, nunc in udo
ludere cum vitulis salicto
praegestientis. tolle cupidinem
inmitis uvae: iam tibi lividos
distinguet autumnus racemos
purpureo varius colore.
iam te sequetur (currit enim ferox
aetas et illi quos tibi dempserit
adponet annos), iam proterva
fronte petet Lalage maritum
dilecta, quantum non Pholoe fugax,
non Chloris albo sic umero nitens
ut pura nocturno renidet
luna mari, Cnidiusve Gyges,
quem si puellarum insereres choro,
mire sagacis falleret hospites
discrimen obscurum solutis
crinibus ambiguoque voltu.
Septimi, Gadis aditure mecum et
Cantabrum indoctum iuga ferre nostra et
barbaras Syrtis, ubi Maura semper
aestuat unda:
Tibur Argeo positum colono
sit meae sedes utinam senectae,
sit modus lasso maris et viarum
militiaeque.
unde si Parcae prohibent iniquae,
dulce pellitis ovibus Galaesi
flumen et regnata petam Laconi
rura Phalantho
ille terrarum mihi praeter omnis
angulus ridet, ubi non Hymetto
mella decedunt viridique certat
baca Venafro,
ver ubi longum tepidasque praebet
Iuppiter brumas et amicus Aulon
fertili Baccho minimum Falernis
invidet uvis;
ille te mecum locus et beatae
postulant arces: ibi tu calentem
debita sparges lacrima favillam
vatis amici.
O saepe mecum tempus in ultimum
deducte Bruto militiae duce,
quis te redonavit Quiritem
dis patriis Italoque caelo,
Pompei, meorum prime sodalium,
cum quo morantem saepe diem mero
fregi, coronatus nitentis
malobathro Syrio capillos?
tecum Philippos et celerem fugam
sensi relicta non bene parmula,
cum fracta virtus, et minaces
turpe solum tetigere mento;
sed me per hostis Mercurius celer
denso paventem sustulit aere,
te rursus in bellum resorbens
unda fretis tulit aestuosis.
ergo obligatam redde Iovi dapem
longaque fessum militia latus
depone sub lauru mea nec
parce cadis tibi destinatis.
oblivioso levia Massico
ciboria exple, funde capacibus
unguenta de conchis. quis udo
deproperare apio coronas
curatve myrto? quem Venus arbitrum
dicet bibendi? non ego sanius
bacchabor Edonis: recepto
dulce mihi furere est amico.
Vlla si iuris tibi peierati
poena, Barine, nocuisset umquam,
dente si nigro fieres vel uno
turpior ungui,
crederem: sed tu simul obligasti
perfidum votis caput, enitescis
pulchrior multo iuvenumque prodis
publica cura.
expedit matris cineres opertos
fallere et toto taciturna noctis
signa cum caelo gelidaque divos
morte carentis
ridet hoc, inquam, Venus ipsa, rident
simplices Nymphae, ferus et Cupido
semper ardentis acuens sagittas
cote cruenta.
adde quod pubes tibi crescit omnis,
servitus crescit nova nec priores
inpiae tectum dominae relinquunt,
saepe minati.
te suis matres metuunt iuvencis,
te senes parci miseraeque nuper
virgines nuptae, tua ne retardet
aura maritos.
Non semper imbres nubibus hispidos
manant in agros aut mare Caspium
vexant inaequales procellae
usque nec Armeniis in oris,
amice Valgi, stat glacies iners
mensis per omnis aut Aquilonibus
querceta Gargani laborant
et foliis viduantur orni:
tu semper urges flebilibus modis
Mysten ademptum nec tibi Vespero
surgente decedunt amores
nec rapidum fugiente solem.
at non ter aevo functus amabilem
ploravit omnis Antilochum senex
annos nec inpubem parentes
Troilon aut Phrygiae sorores
flevere semper. desine mollium
tandem querellarum et potius nova
cantemus Augusti tropaea
Caesaris et rigidum Niphaten
Medumque flumen gentibus additum
victis minores volvere vertices
intraque praescriptum Gelonos
exiguis equitare campis.
Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum
semper urgendo neque, dum procellas
cautus horrescis, nimium premendo
litus iniquum.
auream quisquis mediocritatem
diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
sordibus tecti, caret invidenda
sobrius aula.
saepius ventis agitatur ingens
pinus et celsae graviore casu
decidunt turres feriuntque summos
fulgura montis
sperat infestis, metuit secundis
alteram sortem bene praeparatum
pectus. informis hiemes reducit
Iuppiter, idem
submovet. non, si male nunc, et olim
sic erit: quondam cithara tacentem
suscitat Musam neque semper arcum
tendit Apollo.
rebus angustis animosus atque
fortis adpare: sapienter idem
contrahes vento nimium secundo
turgida vela.
Quid bellicosus Cantaber et Scythes,
Hirpine Quinti, cogitet Hadria
divisus obiecto, remittas
quaerere nec trepides in usum
poscentis aevi pauca: fugit retro
levis iuventas et decor arida
pellente lascivos amores
canitie facilemque somnum.
non semper idem floribus est honor
vernis neque uno luna rubens nitet
voltu: quid aeternis minorem
consiliis animum fatigas?
cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac
pinu iacentes sic temere et rosa
canos odorati capillos,
dum licet, Assyriaque nardo
potamus uncti? dissipat Euhius
curas edacis. quis puer ocius
restinguet ardentis Falerni
pocula praetereunte lympha?
quis devium scortum eliciet domo
Lyden? eburna, dic age, cum lyra
maturet, in comptum Lacaenae
more comam religata nodum.
Nolis longa ferae bella Numantiae
nec durum Hannibalem nec Siculum mare
Poeno purpureum sanguine mollibus
aptari citharae modis
nec saevos Lapithas et nimium mero
Hylaeum domitosque Herculea manu
Telluris iuvenes, unde periculum
fulgens contremuit domus
Saturni veteris: tuque pedestribus
dices historiis proelia Caesaris,
Maecenas, melius ductaque per vias
regum colla minacium.
me dulcis dominae Musa Licymniae
cantus, me voluit dicere lucidum
fulgentis oculos et bene mutuis
fidum pectus amoribus;
quam nec ferre pedem dedecuit choris
nec certare ioco nec dare bracchia
ludentem nitidis virginibus sacro
Dianae celebris die.
num tu quae tenuit dives Achaemenes
aut pinguis Phrygiae Mygdonias opes
permutare velis crine Licymniae
plenas aut Arabum domos,
cum flagrantia detorquet ad oscula
cervicem aut facili saevitia negat
quae poscente magis gaudeat eripi,
interdum rapere occupet?
Ille et nefasto te posuit die
quicumque primum, et sacrilega manu
produxit, arbos, in nepotum
perniciem opprobriumque pagi;
illum et parentis crediderim sui
fregisse cervicem et penetralia
sparsisse nocturno cruore
hospitis; ille venena Colcha
et quidquid usquam concipitur nefas
tractavit, agro qui statuit meo
te, triste lignum, te, caducum
in domini caput inmerentis
quid quisque vitet, numquam homini satis
cautum est in horas: navita Bosporum
Poenus perhorrescit neque ultra
caeca timet aliunde fata,
miles sagittas et celerem fugam
Parthi, catenas Parthus et Italum
robur; sed inprovisa leti
vis rapuit rapietque gentis.
quam paene furvae regna Proserpinae
et iudicantem vidimus Aeacum
sedesque discriptas piorum et
Aeoliis fidibus querentem
Sappho puellis de popularibus
et te sonantem plenius aureo,
Alcaee, plectro dura navis,
dura fugae mala, dura belli.
utrumque sacro digna silentio
mirantur umbrae dicere, sed magis
pugnas et exactos tyrannos
densum umeris bibit aure volgus.
quid mirum, ubi illis carminibus stupens
demittit atras belua centiceps
auris et intorti capillis
Eumenidum recreantur angues?
quin et Prometheus et Pelopis parens
dulci laborem decipitur sono
nec curat Orion leones
aut timidos agitare lyncas
Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti,
non, si trecenis quotquot eunt dies,
amice, places inlacrimabilem
Plutona tauris, qui ter amplum
Geryonen Tityonque tristi
conpescit unda, scilicet omnibus
quicumque terrae munere vescimur
enaviganda, sive reges
sive inopes erimus coloni.
frustra cruento Marte carebimus
fractisque rauci fluctibus Hadriae,
frustra per autumnos nocentem
corporibus metuemus Austrum:
visendus ater flumine languido
Cocytos errans et Danai genus
infame damnatusque longi
Sisyphus Aeolides laboris.
linquenda tellus et domus et placens
uxor neque harum quas colis arborum
te praeter invisas cupressos
ulla brevem dominum sequetur.
absumet heres Caecuba dignior
servata centum clavibus et mero
tinguet pavimentum superbo,
pontificum potiore cenis.
Iam pauca aratro iugera regiae
moles relinquent, undique latius
extenta visentur Lucrino
stagna lacu platanusque caelebs
evincet ulmos; tum violaria et
myrtus et omnis copia narium
spargent olivetis odorem
fertilibus domino priori,
tum spissa ramis laurea fervidos
excludet ictus. non ita Romuli
praescriptum et intonsi Catonis
auspiciis veterumque norma.
privatus illis census erat brevis,
commune magnum: nulla decempedis
metata privatis opacam
porticus excipiebat arcton
nec fortuitum spernere caespitem
leges sinebant, oppida publico
sumptu iubentes et deorum
templa novo decorare saxo.
Otium divos rogat in patenti
prensus Aegaeo, simul atra nubes
condidit lunam neque certa fulgent
sidera nautis,
otium bello furiosa Thrace,
otium Medi pharetra decori,
Grosphe, non gemmis neque purpura ve-
nale nec auro.
non enim gazae neque consularis
submovet lictor miseros tumultus
mentis et curas laqueata circum
tecta volantis
vivitur parvo bene cui paternum
splendet in mensa tenui salinum
nec levis somnos timor aut cupido
sordidus aufert.
quid brevi fortes iaculamur aevo
multa? quid terras alio calentis
sole mutamus? patriae quis exsul
se quoque fugit?
scandit aeratas vitiosa navis
Cura nec turmas equitum relinquit
ocior cervis et agente nimbos
ocior Euro.
laetus in praesens animus quod ultra est
oderit curare et amara lento
temperet risu: nihil est ab omni
parte beatum.
abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem,
longa Tithonum minuit senectus
et mihi forsan tibi quod negarit
porriget hora.
te greges centum Siculaeque circum
mugiunt vaccae, tibi tollit hinnitum
apta quadrigis equa, te bis Afro
murice tinctae
vestiunt lanae: mihi parva rura et
spiritum Graiae tenuem Camenae
Parca non mendax dedit et malignum
spernere volgus.
Cur me querelis exanimas tuis?
nec dis amicum est nec mihi te prius
obire, Maecenas, mearum
grande decus columenque rerum.
a, te meae si partem animae rapit
maturior vis, quid moror altera,
nec carus aeque nec superstes
integer? ille dies utramque
ducet ruinam. non ego perfidum
dixi sacramentum ibimus, ibimus,
utcumque praecedes, supremum
carpere iter comites parati.
me nec Chimaerae spiritus igneae
nec si resurgat centimanus Gyas
divellet umquam: sic potenti
Iustitiae placitumque Parcis.
seu Libra seu me Scorpios adspicit
formidolosus pars violentior
natalis horae seu tyrannus
Hesperiae Capricornus undae:
utrumque nostrum incredibili modo
consentit astrum; te Iovis inpio
tutela Saturno refulgens
eripuit volucrisque Fati
tardavit alas, cum populus frequens
laetum theatris ter crepuit sonum;
me truncus inlapsus cerebro,
sustulerat, nisi Faunus ictum
dextra levasset, Mercurialium
custos virorum. reddere victimas
aedemque votivam memento;
nos humilem feriemus agnam.
Non ebur neque aureum
mea renidet in domo lacunar,
non trabes Hymettiae
premunt columnas ultima recisas
Africa neque Attali
ignotus heres regiam occupavi
nec Laconicas mihi
trahunt honestae purpuras clientae.
at fides et ingeni
benigna vena est pauperemque dives
me petit: nihil supra
deos lacesso nec potentem amicum
largiora flagito,
satis beatus unicis Sabinis.
truditur dies die
novaeque pergunt interire lunae:
tu secanda marmora
locas sub ipsum funus et sepulcri
inmemor struis domos
marisque Bais obstrepentis urges
submovere litora,
parum locuples continente ripa;
quid quod usque proximos
revellis agri terminos et ultra
limites clientium
salis avarus? pellitur paternos
in sinu ferens deos
et uxor et vir sordidosque natos.
nulla certior tamen
rapacis Orci fine destinata
aula divitem manet
erum. quid ultra tendis? aequa tellus
pauperi recluditur
regumque pueris nec satelles Orci
callidum Promethea
revexit auro captus; hic superbum
Tantalum atque Tantali
genus coercet, hic levare functum
pauperem laboribus
vocatus atque non vocatus audit.
Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus
vidi docentem, credite posteri,
Nymphasque discentis et auris
capripedum Satyrorum acutas
euhoe, recenti mens trepidat metu,
plenoque Bacchi pectore turbidum
laetatur. euhoe, parce Liber,
parce gravi metuende thyrso.
fas pervicacis est mihi Thyiadas
vinique fontem lactis et uberes
cantare rivos atque truncis
lapsa cavis iterare mella;
fas et beatae coniugis additum
stellis honorem tectaque Penthei
disiecta non leni ruina
Thracis et exitium Lycurgi
tu flectis amnis, tu mare barbarum,
tu separatis uvidus in iugis
nodo coerces viperino
Bistonidum sine fraude crinis.
tu, cum parentis regna per arduum
cohors gigantum scanderet inpia,
Rhoetum retorsisti leonis
unguibus horribilique mala;
quamquam choreis aptior et iocis
ludoque dictus non sat idoneus
pugnae ferebaris; sed idem
pacis eras mediusque belli.
te vidit insons Cerberus aureo
cornu decorum leniter atterens
caudam et recedentis trilingui
ore pedes tetigitque crura.
Non usitata nec tenui ferar
penna biformis per liquidum aethera
vates neque in terris morabor
longius invidiaque maior
urbis relinquam. non ego, pauperum
sanguis parentum, non ego, quem vocas.
dilecte Maecenas, obibo
nec Stygia cohibebor unda.
iam iam residunt cruribus asperae
pelles et album mutor in alitem
superne nascunturque leves
per digitos umerosque plumae.
iam Daedaleo notior Icaro
visam gementis litora Bospori
Syrtisque Gaetulas canorus
ales Hyperboreosque campos.
me Colchus et qui dissimulat metum
Marsae cohortis Dacus et ultimi
noscent Geloni, me peritus
discet Hiber Rhodanique potor.
absint inani funere neniae
luctusque turpes et querimoniae;
conpesce clamorem ac sepulcri
mitte supervacuos honores.

## 3. Book III

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/3/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/3/#p-N

[¶0] Bid the unhallow'd crowd avaunt!

> Latin: Odi profanum volgus et arceo.

[¶1] Keep holy silence; strains unknown
Till now, the Muses' hierophant,
I sing to youths and maids alone.

> Latin: favete linguis: carmina non prius
audita Musarum sacerdos
virginibus puerisque canto.

[¶2] Kings o'er their flocks the sceptre wield;
E'en kings beneath Jove's sceptre bow:
Victor in giant battle-field,
He moves all nature with his brow.

> Latin: regum timendorum in proprios greges,
reges in ipsos imperium est Iovis,
clari Giganteo triumpho,
cuncta supercilio moventis.

[¶3] This man his planted walks extends
Beyond his peers; an older name
One to the people's choice commends;
One boasts a more unsullied fame;
One plumes him on a larger crowd
Of clients. What are great or small?
Death takes the mean man with the proud;
The fatal urn has room for all.

> Latin: est ut viro vir latius ordinet
arbusta sulcis, hic generosior
descendat in campum petitor,
moribus hic meliorque fama
contendat, illi turba clientium
sit maior: aequa lege Necessitas
sortitur insignis et imos,
omne capax movet urna nomen.

[¶4] When guilty Pomp the drawn sword sees
Hung o'er her, richest feasts in vain
Strain their sweet juice her taste to please;
No lutes, no singing birds again
Will bring her sleep. Sleep knows no pride;
It scorns not cots of village hinds,
Nor shadow-trembling river-side,
Nor Tempe, stirr'd by western winds.

> Latin: destrictus ensis cui super inpia
cervice pendet, non Siculae dapes
dulcem elaborabunt saporem,
non avium citharaeque cantus
somnum reducent: somnus agrestium
lenis virorum non humilis domos
fastidit umbrosamque ripam,
non Zephyris agitata Tempe.

[¶5] Who, having competence, has all,
The tumult of the sea defies,
Nor fears Arcturus' angry fall,
Nor fears the Kid-star's sullen rise,
Though hail-storms on the vineyard beat,
Though crops deceive, though trees complain,
One while of showers, one while of heat,
One while of winter's barbarous reign.

> Latin: desiderantem quod satis est neque
tumultuosum sollicitat mare
nec saevus Arcturi cadentis
impetus aut orientis Haedi,
non verberatae grandine vineae
fundusque mendax arbore nunc aquas
culpante, nunc torrentia agros
sidera, nunc hiemes iniquas.

[¶6] Fish feel the narrowing of the main
From sunken piles, while on the strand
Contractors with their busy train
Let down huge stones, and lords of land
Affect the sea: but fierce Alarm
Can clamber to the master's side:
Black Cares can up ihe galley swarm,
And close behind the horseman ride.

> Latin: contracta pisces aequora sentiunt
iactis in altum molibus: huc frequens
caementa demittit redemptor
cum famulis dominusque terrae
fastidiosus: sed Timor et Minae
scandunt eodem, quo dominus, neque
decedit aerata triremi et
post equitem sedet atra Cura.

[¶7] If Phrygian marbles soothe not pain,
Nor star-bright purple's costliest wear,
Nor vines of true Falernian strain,
Nor Achaemenian spices rare,
Why with rich gate and pillard range
Upbuild new mansions, twice as high,
Or why my Sabine vale exchange
For more laborious luxury?
To suffer hardness with good cheer,
In sternest school of warfare bred,
Our youth should learn; let steed and spear
Make him one day the Parthian's dread;
Cold skies, keen perils, brace his life.
Methinks I see from rampired town
Some battling tyrant's matron wife,
Some maiden, look in terror down,—
“Ah, my dear lord, untrain'd in war!
O tempt not the infuriate mood
Of that fell lion I see! from far
He plunges through a tide of blood! “
What joy, for fatherland to die!
Death's darts e'en flying feet o'ertake,
Nor spare a recreant chivalry,
A back that cowers, or loins that quake.
True Virtue never knows defeat:
Her robes she keeps unsullied still,
Nor takes, nor quits, her curule seat
To please a people's veering will.
True Virtue opens heaven to worth:
She makes the way she does not find:
The vulgar crowd, the humid earth,
Her soaring pinion leaves behind.
Seal'd lips have blessings sure to come:
Who drags Eleusis' rite today,
That man shall never share my home,
Or join my voyage: roofs give way
And boats are wreck'd: true men and thieves
Neglected Justice oft confounds:
Though Vengeance halt, she seldom leaves
The wretch whose flying steps she hounds.
The man of firm and righteous will,
No rabble, clamorous for the wrong,
No tyrant's brow, whose frown may kill,
Can shake the strength that makes him strong:
Not winds, that chafe the sea they sway,
Nor Jove's right hand, with lightning red:
Should Nature's pillar'd frame give way,
That wreck would strike one fearless head.
Pollux and roving Hercules
Thus won their way to Heaven's proud steep,
'Mid whom Augustus, couch'd at ease,
Dyes his red lips with nectar deep.
For this, great Bacchus, tigers drew
Thy glorious car, untaught to slave
In harness: thus Quirinus flew
On Mars' wing'd steeds from Acheron's wave,
When Juno spoke with Heaven's assent:
“O Ilium, Ilium, wretched town!
The judge accurst, incontinent,
And stranger dame have dragg'd thee down.
Pallas and I, since Priam's sire
Denied the gods his pledged reward,
Had doom'd them all to sword and fire,
The people and their perjured lord.
No more the adulterous guest can charm
The Spartan queen: the house forsworn
No more repels by Hector's arm
My warriors, baffled and outworn:
Hush'd is the war our strife made long:
I welcome now, my hatred o'er,
A grandson in the child of wrong,
Him whom the Trojan priestess bore.
Receive him, Mars! the gates of flame
May open: let him taste forgiven
The nectar, and enrol his name
Among the peaceful ranks of Heaven.
Let the wide waters sever still
Ilium and Rome, the exiled race
May reign and prosper where they will:
So but in Paris' burial-place
The cattle sport, the wild beasts hide
Their cubs, the Capitol may stand
All bright, and Rome in warlike pride
O'er Media stretch a conqueror's hand.
Aye, let her scatter far and wide
Her terror, where tbe land-lock'd waves
Europe from Afric's shore divide,
Where swelling Nile the corn-field laves—

> Latin: quodsi dolentem nec Phrygius lapis
nec purpurarum sidere clarior
delenit usus nec Falerna
vitis Achaemeniumque costum,
cur invidendis postibus et novo
sublime ritu moliar atrium?
cur valle permutem Sabina
divitias operosiores?
Angustam amice pauperiem pati
robustus acri militia puer
condiscat et Parthos ferocis
vexet eques metuendus hasta
vitamque sub divo et trepidis agat
in rebus. illum ex moenibus hosticis
matrona bellantis tyranni
prospiciens et adulta virgo
suspiret “eheu, ne rudis agminum
sponsus lacessat regius asperum
tactu leonem, quem cruenta
per medias rapit ira caedes.”
dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur virum
nec parcit inbellis iuventae
poplitibus timidoque tergo.
Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae,
intaminatis fulget honoribus
nec sumit aut ponit securis
arbitrio popularis aurae.
Virtus, recludens inmeritis mori
caelum, negata temptat iter via
coetusque volgaris et udam
spernit humum fugiente penna.
est et fideli tuta silentio
merces: vetabo, qui Cereris sacrum
volgarit arcanae, sub isdem
sit trabibus fragilemque mecum
solvat phaselon; saepe Diespiter
neglectus incesto addidit integrum,
raro antecedentem scelestum
deseruit pede Poena claudo.
Iustum et tenacem propositi virum
non civium ardor prava iubentium,
non voltus instantis tyranni
mente quatit solida neque Auster,
dux inquieti turbidus Hadriae,
nec fulminantis magna manus Iovis:
si fractus inlabatur orbis,
inpavidum ferient ruinae.
hac arte Pollux et vagus Hercules
enisus arcis attigit igneas,
quos inter Augustus recumbens
purpureo bibet ore nectar,
hac te merentem, Bacche pater, tuae
vexere tigres indocili iugum
collo trahentes, hac Quirinus
Martis equis Acheronta fugit,
gratum elocuta consiliantibus
Iunone divis: “Ilion, Ilion
fatalis incestusque iudex
et mulier peregrina vertit
in pulverem ex quo destituit deos
mercede pacta Laomedon, mihi
castaeque damnatum Minervae
cum populo et duce fraudulento.
iam nec Lacaenae splendet adulterae
famosus hospes nec Priami domus
periura pugnacis Achivos
Hectoreis opibus refringit
nostrisque ductum seditionibus
bellum resedit; protinus et gravis
iras et invisum nepotem,
Troica quem peperit sacerdos,
Marti redonabo; illum ego lucidas
inire sedes, discere nectaris
sucos et adscribi quietis
ordinibus patiar deorum.
dum longus inter saeviat Ilion
Romamque pontus, qualibet exsules
in parte regnanto beati;
dum Priami Paridisque busto
insultet armentum et catulos ferae
celent inultae, stet Capitolium
fulgens triumphatisque possit
Roma ferox dare iura Medis.
horrenda late nomen in ultimas
extendat oras, qua medius liquor
secernit Europen ab Afro,
qua tumidus rigat arva Nilus.

[¶8] Of strength more potent to disdain
Hid gold, best buried in the mine,
Than gather it with hand profane,
That for man's greed would rob a shrine.
Whate'er the bound to earth ordain'd,
There let her reach the arm of power,
Travelling, where raves the fire unrein'd,
And where the storm-cloud and the shower.

> Latin: aurum inrepertum et sic melius situm,
cum terra celat, spernere fortior
quam cogere humanos in usus
omne sacrum rapiente dextra,
quicumque mundo terminus obstitit
hunc tanget armis, visere gestiens,
qua parte debacchentur ignes,
qua nebulae pluviique rores.

[¶9] Yet, warlike Roman, know thy doom,
Nor, drunken with a conqueror's joy,
Or blind with duteous zeal, presume
To build again ancestral Troy.

> Latin: sed bellicosis fata Quiritibus
hac lege dico, ne nimium pii
rebusque fidentes avitae
tecta velint reparare Troiae.

[¶10] Should Troy revive to hateful life,
Her star again should set in gore,
While I, Jove's sister and his wife,
To victory led my host once more.

> Latin: Troiae renascens alite lugubri
fortuna tristi clade iterabitur
ducente victrices catervas
coniuge me Iovis et sorore.

[¶11] Though Phoebus thrice in brazen mail
Should case her towers, they thrice should fall,
Storm'd by my Greeks: thrice wives should wail
Husband and son, themselves in thrall.”—
Such thunders from the lyre of love!
Back, wayward Muse! refrain, refrain
To tell the talk of gods above,
And dwarf high themes in puny strain.
Come down, Calliope, from above:
Breathe on the pipe a strain of fire:
Or if a graver note thou love,
With Phoebus' cittern and his lyre.
You hear her? or is this the play
Of fond illusion? Hark! meseems
Through gardens of the good I stray,
'Mid murmuring gales and purling streams.
Me, as I lay on Vultur's steep,
A truant past Apulia's bound,
O'ertired, poor child, with play and sleep,
With living green the stock-doves crown'd—
A legend, nay, a miracle,
By Acherontia's nestlings told,
By all in Bantine glade that dwell,
Or till the rich Forentan mould.
“Bears, vipers, spared him as he lay,
The sacred garland deck'd his hair,
The myrtle blended with the bay:
The child's inspired: the gods were there.”
Your grace, sweet Muses, shields me still
On Sabine heights, or lets me range
Where cool Praeneste, Tibur's hill,
Or liquid Baiae proffers change.
Me to your springs, your dances true,
Philippi bore not to the ground,
Nor the doom'd tree in falling slew,
Nor billowy Palinurus drown'd.
Grant me your presence, blithe and fain
Mad Bosporus shall my bark explore;
My foot shall tread the sandy plain
That glows beside Assyria's shore;
'Mid Briton tribes, the stranger's foe,
And Spaniards, drunk with horses' blood,
And quiver'd Scythians, will I go
Unharm'd, and look on Tanais' flood.
When Caesar's self in peaceful town
The weary veteran's home has made,
You bid him lay his helmet down
And rest in your Pierian shade.
Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to see
Mild thoughts take root. The nations know
How with descending thunder he
The impious Titans hurl'd below,
Who rules dull earth and stormy seas,
And towns of men, and realms of pain,
And gods, and mortal companies,
Alone, impartial in his reign.
Yet Jove had fear'd the giant rush,
Their upraised arms, their port of pride,
And the twin brethren bent to push
Huge Pelion up Olympus' side.
But Typhon, Mimas, what could these,
Or what Porphyrion's stalwart scorn,
Rhoetus, or he whose spears were trees,
Enceladus, from earth uptorn,
As on they rush'd in mad career
'Gainst Pallas' shield? Here met the foe
Fierce Vulcan, queenly Juno here,
And he who ne'er shall quit his bow,
Who laves in clear Castalian flood
His locks, and loves the leafy growth
Of Lycia next his native wood,
The Delian and the Pataran both.
Strength, mindless, falls by its own weight;
Strength, mix'd with mind, is made more strong
By the just gods, who surely hate
The strength whose thoughts are set on wrong.
Let hundred-handed Gyas bear
His witness, and Orion known
Tempter of Dian, chaste and fair,
By Dian's maiden dart o'erthrown.

> Latin: ter si resurgat murus aeneus
auctore Phoebo, ter pereat meis
excisus Argivis, ter uxor
capta virum puerosque ploret”
non hoc iocosae conveniet lyrae —
quo, Musa, tendis? desine pervicax
referre sermones deorum et
magna modis tenuare parvis.
Descende caelo et dic age tibia
regina longum Calliope melos,
seu voce nunc mavis acuta
seu fidibus citharave Phoebi.
auditis? an me ludit amabilis
insania? audire et videor pios
errare per lucos, amoenae
quos et aquae subeunt et aurae.
me fabulosae Volture in Apulo
nutricis extra limina Pulliae
ludo fatigatumque somno
fronde nova puerum palumbes
texere, mirum quod foret omnibus
quicumque celsae nidum Aceruntiae
saltusque Bantinos et arvum
pingue tenent humilis Forenti,
ut tuto ab atris corpore viperis
dormirem et ursis, ut premerer sacra
lauroque conlataque myrto
non sine dis animosus infans.
vester, Camenae, vester in arduos
tollor Sabinos, seu mihi frigidum
Praeneste seu Tibur supinum
seu liquidae placuere Baiae.
vestris amicum fontibus et choris
non me Philippis versa acies retro,
devota non extinxit arbor
nec Sicula Palinurus unda.
utcumque mecum vos eritis, libens
insanientem navita Bosporum
temptabo et urentis harenas
litoris Assyrii viator,
visam Britannos hospitibus feros
et laetum equino sanguine Concanum,
visam pharetratos Gelonos
et Scythicum inviolatus amnem.
vos Caesarem altum, militia simul
fessas cohortes abdidit oppidis,
finire quaerentem labores
Pierio recreatis antro.
vos lene consilium et datis et dato
gaudetis, almae. scimus, ut inpios
Titanas immanemque turbam
fulmine sustulerit caduco
qui terram inertem, qui mare temperat
ventosum et urbis regnaque tristia
divosque mortalisque turmas
imperio regit unus aequo.
magnum illa terrorem intulerat Iovi
fidens iuventus horrida bracchiis
fratresque tendentes opaco
Pelion inposuisse Olympo.
sed quid Typhoeus et validus Mimas
aut quid minaci Porphyrion statu,
quid Rhoetus evolsisque truncis
Enceladus iaculator audax
contra sonantem Palladis aegida
possent ruentes? hinc avidus stetit
Volcanus, hinc matrona Iuno et
numquam umeris positurus arcum
qui rore puro Castaliae lavit
crinis solutos, qui Lyciae tenet
dumeta natalemque silvam
Delius et Patareus Apollo.
vis consili expers mole ruit sua,
vim temperatam di quoque provehunt
in maius; idem odere viris
omne nefas animo moventis.
testis mearum centimanus Gyas
sententiarum, notus et integrae
temptator Orion Dianae
virginea domitus sagitta.

[¶12] Hurl'd on the monstrous shapes she bred,
Earth groans, and mourns her children thrust
To Orcus; Aetna's weight of lead
Keeps down the fire that breaks its crust;
Still sits the bird on Tityos' breast,
The warder of Unlawful love;
Still suffers lewd Pirithous, prest
By massive chains no hand may move.
Jove rules in heaven, his thunder shows;
Henceforth Augustus earth shall own
Her present god, now Briton foes
And Persians bow before his throne.
Has Crassus' soldier ta'en to wife
A base barbarian, and grown grey
(Woe, for a nation's tainted life!)
Earning his foemen-kinsmen's pay,
His king, forsooth, a Mede, his sire
A Marsian? can he name forget,
Gown, sacred shield, undying fire,
And Jove and Rome are standing yet?
'Twas this that Regulus foresaw,
What time he spurn'd the foul disgrace
Of peace, whose precedent would draw
Destruction on an unborn race,
Should aught but death the prisoner's chain
Unrivet. “I have seen,” he said,
“Rome's eagle in a Punic fane,
And armour, ne'er a blood-drop shed,
Stripp'd from the soldier; I have seen
Free sons of Rome with arms fast tied;
The fields we spoil'd with corn are green,
And Carthage opes her portals wide.
The warrior, sure, redeem'd by gold,
Will fight the bolder! Aye, you heap
On baseness loss. The hues of old
Revisit not the wool we steep;
And genuine worth, expell'd by fear,
Returns not to the worthless slave.
Break but her meshes, will the deer
Assail you? then will he be brave
Who once to faithless foes has knelt;
Yes, Carthage yet his spear will fly,
Who with bound arms the cord has felt,
The coward, and has fear'd to die.
He knows not, he, how life is won;
Thinks war, like peace, a thing of trade!
Great art thou, Carthage! mate the sun,
While Italy in dust is laid!”
His wife's pure kiss he waved aside,
And prattling boys, as one disgraced,
They tell us, and with manly pride
Stern on the ground his visage placed.
With counsel thus ne'er else aread
He nerved the fathers' weak intent,
And, girt by friends that mourn'd him, sped
Into illustrious banishment.
Well witting what the torturer's art
Design'd him, with like unconcern
The press of kin he push'd apart
And crowds encumbering his return,
As though, some tedious business o'er
Of clients' court, his journey lay
Towards Venafrum's grassy floor,
Or Sparta-built Tarentum's bay.
Your fathers' guilt you still must pay,
Till, Roman, you restore each shrine,
Each temple, 'mouldering in decay,
And smoke-grimed statue, scarce divine.
Revering Heaven, you rule below;
Be that your base, your coping still;
'Tis Heaven neglected bids o'erflow
The measure of Italian ill.
Now Pacorus and Monaeses twice
Have given our unblest arms the foil;
Their necklaces, of mean device;
Smiling they deck with Roman spoil.
Our city, torn by faction's throes,
Dacian and Ethiop well-nigh razed,
These with their dreadful navy, those
For archer-prowess rather praised.
An evil age erewhile debased
The marriage-bed, the race, the home;
Thence rose the flood whose waters waste
The nation and the name of Rome.
Not such their birth, who stain'd for us
The sea with Punic carnage red,
Smote Pyrrhus, smote Antiochus,
And Hannibal, the Roman's dread.
Theirs was a hardy soldier-brood,
Inured all day the land to till
With Sabine spade, then shoulder wood
Hewn at a stern old mother's will,
When sunset lengthen'd from each height
The shadows, and unyoked the steer,
Restoring in its westward flight
The hour to toilworn travail dear.
What has not cankering Time made worse?
Viler than grandsires, sires beget
Ourselves, yet baser, soon to curse
The world with offspring baser yet.
Why weep for him whom sweet Favonian airs
Will waft next spring, Asteria, back to you,
Rich with Bithynia's wares,
A lover fond and true,
Your Gyges? He, detain'd by stormy stress
At Oricum, about the Goat-star's rise,
Cold, wakeful, comfortless,
The long night weeping lies.
Meantime his lovesick hostess' messenger
Talks of the flames that waste poor Chloe's heart
(Flames lit for you, not her!)
With a besieger's art;
Shows how a treacherous woman's lying breath
Once on a time on trustful Proetus won
To doom to early death
Too chaste Bellerophon;
Warns him of Peleus' peril, all but slain
For virtuous scorn of fair Hippolyta,
And tells again each tale
That e'er led heart astray.
In vain; for deafer than Icarian seas
He hears, untainted yet. But, lady fair,
What if Enipeus please
Your listless eye? beware!
Though true it be that none with surer seat
O'er Mars's grassy turf is seen to ride,
Nor any swims so fleet
Adown the Tuscan tide,
Yet keep each evening door and window barr'd;
Look not abroad when music strikes up shrill,
And though he call you hard,
Remain obdurate still.
The first of March! a man unwed!
What can these flowers, this censer mean?
Or what these embers, glowing red
On sods of green?
You ask, in either language skill'd!
A feast I vow'd to Bacchus free,
A white he-goat, when all but kill'd
By falling tree.
So, when that holyday comes round,
It sees me still the rosin clear
From this my wine-jar, first embrown'd
In Tullus' year.
Come, crush one hundred cups for life
Preserved, Maecenas; keep till day
The candles lit; let noise and strife
Be far away.
Lay down that load of state-concern;
The Dacian hosts are all o'erthrown;
The Mede, that sought our overturn,
Now seeks his own;
A servant now, our ancient foe,
The Spaniard, wears at last our chain;
The Scythian half unbends his bow
And quits the plain.
Then fret not lest the state should ail;
A private man such thoughts may spare;
Enjoy the present hour's regale,
And banish care.
Horace:
While I had power to bless you,
Nor any round that neck his arms did fling
More privileged to caress you,
Happier was Horace than the Persian king.
Lydia:
While you for none were pining
Sorer, nor Lydia after Chloe came,
Lydia, her peers outshining,
Might match her own with Ilia's Roman fame.
Horace:
Now Chloe is my treasure,
Whose voice, whose touch, can make sweet music flow:
For her I'd die with pleasure,
Would Fate but spare the dear survivor so.
Lydia:
I love my own fond lover,
Young Calais, son of Thurian Ornytus:
For him I'd die twice over,
Would Fate but spare the sweet survivor thus.
Horace:
What now, if Love returning
Should pair us 'neath his brazen yoke once more,
And, bright-hair'd Chloe spurning,
Horace to off-cast Lydia ope his door?
Lydia:
Though he is fairer, milder,
Than starlight, you lighter than bark of tree,
Than stormy Hadria wilder,
With you to live, to die, were bliss for me.
Ah Lyce! though your drink were Tanais,
Your husband some rude savage, you would weep
To leave me shivering, on a night like this,
Where storms their watches keep.
Hark! how your door is creaking! how the grove
In your fair courtyard, while the wild winds blow,
Wails in accord! with what transparence Jove
Is glazing the driven snow!
Cease that proud temper: Venus loves it not:
The rope may break, the wheel may backward turn:
Begetting you, no Tuscan sire begot
Penelope the stern.
O, though no gift, no “prevalence of prayer,”
Nor lovers' paleness deep as violet,
Nor husband, smit with a Pierian fair,
Move you, have pity yet!
O harder e'en than toughest heart of oak,
Deafer than uncharm'd snake to suppliant moans!
This side, I warn you, will not always brook
Rain-water and cold stones.
Come, Mercury, by whose minstrel spell
Amphion raised the Theban stones,
Come, with thy seven sweet strings, my shell,
Thy “diverse tones,”
Nor vocal once nor pleasant, now
To rich man's board and temple dear:
Put forth thy power, till Lyde bow
Her stubborn ear.
She, like a three-year colt unbroke,
Is frisking o'er the spacious plain,
Too shy to bear a lover's yoke,
A husband's rein.
The wood, the tiger, at thy call
Have follow'd: thou caust rivers stay:
The monstrous guard of Pluto's hall
To thee gave way,
Grim Cerberus, round whose Gorgon head
A hundred snakes are hissing death,
Whose triple jaws black venom shed,
And sickening breath.
Ixion too and Tityos smooth'd
Their rugged brows: the urn stood dry
One hour, while Danaus' maids were sooth'd
With minstrelsy.
Let Lyde hear those maidens' guilt,
Their famous doom, the ceaseless drain
Of outpour'd water, ever spilt,
And all the pain
Reserved for sinners, e'en when dead:
Those impious hands, (could crime do more?)
Those impious hands had hearts to shed
Their bridegrooms' gore!
One only, true to Hymen's flame,
Was traitress to her sire forsworn:
That splendid falsehood lights her name
Through times unborn.
“Wake!” to her youthful spouse she cried,
“Wake! or you yet may sleep too well:
Fly—from the father of your bride,
Her sisters fell:
They, as she-lions bullocks rend,
Tear each her victim: I, less hard
Than these, will slay you not, poor friend,
Nor hold in ward:
Me let my sire in fetters lay
For mercy to my husband shown:
Me let him ship far hence away,
To climes unknown.
Go; speed your flight o'er land and wave,
While Night and Venus shield you; go
Be blest: and on my tomb engrave
This tale of woe.”
How unhappy are the maidens who with Cupid may not play,
Who may never touch the wine-cup, but must tremble all the day
At an uncle, and the scourging of his tongue!
Neobule, there's a robber takes your needle and your thread,
Lets the lessons of Minerva run no longer in your head;
It is Hebrus, the athletic and the young!
O, to see him when anointed he is plunging in the flood!
What a seat he has on horseback! was Bellerophon's as good?
As a boxer, as a runner, past compare!
When the deer are flying blindly all the open country o'er,
He can aim and he can hit them; he can steal upon the boar,
As it couches in the thicket unaware.
Bandusia's fount, in clearness crystalline,
O worthy of the wine, the flowers we vow!
Tomorrow shall be thine
A kid, whose crescent brow
Is sprouting all for love and victory.
In vain: his warm red blood, so early stirr'd.
Thy gelid stream shall dye,
Child of the wanton herd.
Thee the fierce Sirian star, to madness fired,
Forbears to touch: sweet cool thy waters yield
To ox with ploughing tired,
And lazy sheep afield.
Thou too one day shalt win proud eminence
'Mid honour'd founts, while I the ilex sing
Crowning the cavern, whence
Thy babbling wavelets spring.
Our Hercules, they told us, Rome,
Had sought the laurel Death bestows:
Now Glory brings him conqueror home
From Spaniard foes.
Proud of her spouse, the imperial fair
Must thank the gods that shield from death;
His sister too:—let matrons wear
The suppliant wreath
For daughters and for sons restored:
Ye youths and damsels newly wed,
Let decent awe restrain each word
Best left unsaid.
This day, true holyday to me,
Shall banish care: I will not fear
Rude broils or bloody death to see,
While Caesar's here.
Quick, boy, the chaplets and the nard,
And wine, that knew the Marsian war,
If roving Spartacus have spared
A single jar.
And bid Neaera come and trill,
Her bright locks bound with careless art:
If her rough porter cross your will,
Why then depart.
Soon palls the taste for noise and fray,
When hair is white and leaves are sere:
How had I fired in life's warm May,
In Plancus' year!
Wife of Ibycus the poor,
Let aged scandals have at length their bound:
Give your graceless doings o'er,
Ripe as you are for going underground.
You the maidens' dance to lead,
And cast your gloom upon those beaming stars!
Daughter Pholoe may succeed,
But mother Chloris what she touches mars.
Young men's homes your daughter storms,
Like Thyiad, madden'd by the cymbals' beat:
Nothus' love her bosom warms:
She gambols like a fawn with silver feet.
Yours should be the wool that grows
By fair Luceria, not the merry lute:
Flowers beseem not wither'd brows,.
Nor wither'd lips with emptied wine-jars suit.
Full well had Danae been secured, in truth,
By oaken portals, and a brazen tower,
And savage watch-dogs, from the roving youth
That prowl at midnight's hour:
But Jove and Venus mock'd with gay disdain
The jealous warder of that close stronghold:
The way, they knew, must soon be smooth and plain
When gods could change to gold.
Gold, gold can pass the tyrant's sentinel,
Can shiver rocks with more resistless blow
Than is the thunder's. Argos' prophet fell,
He and his house laid low,
And all for gain. The man of Macedon
Cleft gates of cities, rival kings o'erthrew
By force of gifts: their cunning snares have won
Rude captains and their crew.
As riches grow, care follows: men repine
And thirst for more. No lofty crest I raise:
Wisdom that thought forbids, Maecenas mine,
The knightly order's praise.
He that denies himself shall gain the more
From bounteous Heaven. I strip me of my pride,
Desert the rich man's standard, and pass o'er
To bare Contentment's side,
More proud as lord of what the great despise
Than if the wheat thresh'd on Apulia's floor
I hoarded all in my huge granaries,
'Mid vast possessions poor.
A clear fresh stream, a little field o'ergrown
With shady trees, a crop that ne'er deceives,
Pass, though men know it not, their wealth, that own
All Afric's golden sheaves.
Though no Calabrian bees their honey yield
For me, nor mellowing sleeps the god of wine
In Formian jar, nor in Gaul's pasture-field
The wool grows long and fine,
Yet Poverty ne'er comes to break my peace;
If more I craved, you would not more refuse.
Desiring less, I better shall increase
My tiny revenues,
Than if to Alyattes' wide domains
I join'd the realms of Mygdon. Great desires
Sort with great wants. 'Tis best, when prayer obtains
No more than life requires.
Aelius, of Lamus' ancient name
(For since from that high parentage
The prehistoric Lamias came
And all who fill the storied page,
No doubt you trace your line from him,
Who stretch'd his sway o'er Formiae,
And Liris, whose still waters swim
Whore green Marica skirts the sea,
Lord of broad realms), an eastern gale
Will blow to-morrow, and bestrew
The shore with weeds, with leaves the vale,
If rain's old prophet tell me true,
The raven. Gather, while 'tis fine,
Your wood; tomorrow shall be gay
With smoking pig and streaming wine,
And lord and slave keep holyday.
O wont the flying Nymphs to woo,
Good Faunus, through my sunny farm
Pass gently, gently pass, nor do
My younglings harm.
Each year, thou know'st, a kid must die
For thee; nor lacks the wine's full stream
To Venus' mate, the bowl; and high
The altars steam.
Sure as December's Nones appear,
All o'er the grass the cattle play;
The village, with the lazy steer,
Keeps holyday.
Wolves rove among the fearless sheep;
The woods for thee their foliage strow;
The delver loves on earth to leap,
His ancient foe.
What the time from Inachus
To Codrus, who in patriot battle fell,
Who were sprung from Aeacus,
And how men fought at Ilion,—this you tell.
What the wines of Chios cost,
Who with due heat our water can allay,
What the hour, and who the host
To give us house-room,—this you will not say
Ho, there! wine to moonrise, wine
To midnight, wine to our new augur too!
Nine to three or three to nine,
As each man pleases, makes proportion true.
Who the uneven Muses loves,
Will fire his dizzy brain with three times three;
Three once told the Grace approves;
She with her two bright sisters, gay and free,
Shrinks, as maiden should, from strife:
But I'm for madness. What has dull'd the fire
Of the Berecyntian fife?
Why hangs the flute in silence with the lyre?
Out on niggard-handed boys!
Rain showers of roses; let old Lycus hear,
Envious churl, our senseless noise,
And she, our neighbour, his ill-sorted fere.
You with your bright clustering hair,
Your beauty, Telephus, like evening's sky,
Rhoda loves, as young, as fair;
I for my Glycera slowly, slowly die.
O born in Manlius' year with me,
Whate'er you bring us, plaint or jest,
Or passion and wild revelry,
Or, like a gentle wine-jar, rest;
Howe'er men call your Massic juice,
Its broaching claims a festal day;
Come then; Corvinus bids produce
A mellower wine, and I obey.
Though steep'd in all Socratic lore
He will not slight you; do not fear.
They say old Cato o'er and o'er
With wine his honest heart would cheer.
Tough wits to your mild torture yield
Their treasures; you unlock the soul
Of wisdom and its stores conceal'd,
Arm'd with Lyaeus' kind control.
'Tis yours the drooping heart to heal;
Your strength uplifts the poor man's horn;
Inspired by you, the soldier's steel,
The monarch's crown, he laughs to scorn,
Liber and Venus, wills she so,
And sister Graces, ne'er unknit,
And living lamps shall see you flow
Till stars before the sunrise flit.
Guardian of hill and woodland, Maid,
Who to young wives in childbirth's hour
Thrice call'd, vouchsafest sovereign aid,
O three-form'd power!
This pine that shades my cot be thine;
Here will I slay, as years come round,
A youngling boar, whose tusks design
The side-long wound.
If, Phidyle, your hands you lift
To heaven, as each new moon is born,
Soothing your Lares with the gift
Of slaughter'd swine, and spice, and corn,
Ne'er shall Scirocco's bane assail
Your vines, nor mildew blast your wheat.
Ne'er shall your tender younglings fail
In autumn, when the fruits are sweet.
The destined victim 'mid the snows
Of Algidus in oakwoods fed,
Or where the Alban herbage grows,
Shall dye the pontiff's axes red;
No need of butcher'd sheep for you
To make your homely prayers prevail;
Give but your little gods their due,
The rosemary twined with myrtle frail.
The sprinkled salt, the votive meal,
As soon their favour will regain,
Let but the hand be pure and leal,
As all the pomp of heifers slain.
Though your buried wealth surpass
The unsunn'd gold of Ind or Araby,
Though with many a ponderous mass
You crowd the Tuscan and Apulian sea,
Let Necessity but drive
Her wedge of adamant into that proud head,
Vainly battling will you strive
To 'scape Death's noose, or rid your soul of dread.
Better life the Scythians lead,
Trailing on waggon wheels their wandering home,
Or the hardy Getan breed,
As o'er their vast unmeasured steppes they roam;
Free the crops that bless their soil;
Their tillage wearies after one year's space;
Each in turn fulfils his toil;
His period o'er, another takes his place.
There the step-dame keeps her hand
From guilty plots, from blood of orphans clean;
There no downed wives command
Their feeble lords, or on adulterers lean.
Theirs are dowries not of gold,
Their parents' worth, their own pure chastity,
True to one, to others cold;
They dare not sin, or, if they dare, they die.
O, whoe'er has heart and head
To stay our plague of blood, our civic brawls,
Would he that his name be read
“Father of Rome” on lofty pedestals,
Let him chain this lawless will,
And be our children's hero! cursed spite!
Living worth we envy still,
Then seek it with strain'd eyes, when snatch'd from sight.
What can sad laments avail
Unless sharp justice kill the taint of sin?
What can laws, that needs must fail
Shorn of the aid of manners form'd within,
If the merchant turns not back
From the fierce heats that round the tropic glow,
Turns not from the regions black
With northern winds, and hard with frozen snow;
Sailors override the wave,
While guilty poverty, more fear'd than vice.
Bids us crime and suffering brave,
And shuns the ascent of virtue's precipice?
Let the Capitolian fane,
The favour'd goal of yon vociferous crowd,
Aye, or let the nearest main
Receive our gold, our jewels rich and proud:
Slay we thus the cause of crime,
If yet we would repent and choose the good:
Ours the task to take in time
This baleful lust, and crush it in the bud.
Ours to mould our weakling sons
To nobler sentiment and manlier deed:
Now the noble's first-born shuns
The perilous chase, nor learns to sit his steed:
Set him to the unlawful dice,
Or Grecian hoop, how skilfully he plays!
While his sire, mature in vice,
A friend, a partner, or a guest betrays,
Hurrying, for an heir so base,
To gather riches. Money, root of ill,
Doubt it not, still grows apace:
Yet the scant heap has somewhat lacking still.
Whither, Bacchus, tear'st thou me.
FiIl'd with thy strength? What dens, what forests these,
Thus in wildering race I see?
What cave shall hearken to my melodies,
Tuned to tell of Caesar's praise
And throne him high the heavenly ranks among?
Sweet and strange shall be my lays,
A tale till now by poet voice unsung.
As the Evian on the height,
Roused from her sleep, looks wonderingly abroad,
Looks on Thrace with snow-drifts white,
And Rhodope by barbarous footstep trod,
So my truant eyes admire
The banks, the desolate forests. O great King
Who the Naiads dost inspire,
And Bacchants, strong from earth huge trees to wring!
Not a lowly strain is mine,
No mere man's utterance. O, 'tis venture sweet
Thee to follow, God of wine,
Making the vine-branch round thy temples meet!
For ladies' love I late was fit,
And good success my warfare blest,
But now my arms, my lyre I quit,
And hang them up to rust or rest.
Here, where arising from the sea
Stands Venus, lay the load at last,
Links, crowbars, and artillery,
Threatening all doors that dared be fast.
O Goddess! Cyprus owns thy sway,
And Memphis, far from Thracian snow;
Raise high thy lash, and deal me, pray,
That haughty Chloe just one blow!
When guilt goes forth, let lapwings shrill,
And dogs and foxes great with young,
And wolves from far Lanuvian hill,
Give clamorous tongue:
Across the roadway dart the snake,
Frightening, like arrow loosed from string,
The horses. I, for friendship's sake,
Watching each wing,
Ere to his haunt, the stagnant marsh,
The harbinger of tempest flies,
Will call the raven, croaking harsh,
From eastern skies.
Farewell!—and wheresoe'er you go,
My Galatea, think of me:
Let lefthand pie and roving crow
Still leave you free.
But mark with what a front of fear
Orion lowers. Ah! well I know
How Hadria glooms, how falsely clear
The west-winds blow.
Let foemen's wives and children feel
The gathering south-wind's angry roar,
The black wave's crash, the thunder-peal,
The quivering shore.
So to the bull Europa gave
Her beauteous form, and when she saw
The monstrous deep, the yawning grave,
Grew pale with awe.
That morn of meadow-flowers she thought,
Weaving a crown the nymphs to please:
That gloomy night she look'd on nought
But stars and seas.
Then, as in hundred-citied Crete
She landed,—“O my sire!” she said,
“O childly duty! passion's heat
Has struck thee dead.
Whence came I? death, for maiden's shame,
Were little. Do I wake to weep
My sin? or am I pure of blame,
And is it sleep
From dreamland brings a form to trick
My senses? Which was best? to go
Over the long, long waves, or pick
The flowers in blow?
O, were that monster made my prize,
How would I strive to wound that brow,
How tear those horns, my frantic eyes
Adored but now!
Shameless I left my father's home;
Shameless I cheat the expectant grave;
O heaven, that naked I might roam
In lions' cave!
Now, ere decay my bloom devour
Or thin the richness of my blood,
Fain would I fall in youth's first flower,
The tigers' food.
Hark! 'tis my father—‘Worthless one!
What, yet alive? the oak is nigh.
'Twas well you kept your maiden zone,
The noose to tie.
Or if your choice be that rude pike,
New barb'd with death, leap down and ask
The wind to bear you. Would you like
The bondmaid's task,
You, child of kings, a master's toy,
A mistress' slave?’” Beside her, lo!
Stood Venus smiling, and her boy
With unstrung bow.
Then, when her laughter ceased, “Have done
With fume and fret,” she cried, “my fair;
That odious bull will give you soon
His horns to tear.
You know not you are Jove's own dame:
Away with sobbing; be resign'd
To greatness: you shall give your name
To half mankind.”
Neptune's feast-day! what should man
Think first of doing? Lyde mine, be bold,
Broach the treasured Caecuban,
And batter Wisdom in her own stronghold.
Now the noon has pass'd the full,
Yet sure you deem swift Time has made a halt,
Tardy as you are to pull
Old Bibulus' wine-jar from its sleepy vault.
I will take my turn and sing
Neptune and Nereus' train with locks of green;
You shall warble to the string
Latona and her Cynthia's arrowy sheen.
Hers our latest song, who sways
Cnidos and Cyclads, and to Paphos goes
With her swans, on holydays;
Night too shall claim the homage music owes.
Heir of Tyrrhenian kings, for you
A mellow cask, unbroach'd as yet,
Maecenas mine, and roses new,
And fresh-drawn oil your locks to wet,
Are waiting here. Delay not still,
Nor gaze on Tibur, never dried,
And sloping Aesule, and the hill
Of Telegon the parricide.
O leave that pomp that can but tire,
Those piles, among the clouds at home;
Cease for a moment to admire
The smoke, the wealth, the noise of Rome!
In change e'en luxury finds a zest:
The poor man's supper, neat, but spare,
With no gay couch to seat the guest,
Has smooth'd the rugged brow of care.
Now glows the Ethiop maiden's sire;
Now Procyon rages all ablaze;
The Lion maddens in his ire,
As suns bring back the sultry days:
The shepherd with his weary sheep
Seeks out the streamlet and the trees,
Silvanus' lair: the still banks sleep
Untroubled by the wandering breeze.
You ponder on imperial schemes,
And o'er the city's danger brood:
Bactrian and Serian haunt your dreams,
And Tanais, toss'd by inward feud.
The issue of the time to be
Heaven wisely hides in blackest night,
And laughs, should man's anxiety
Transgress the bounds of man's short sight.
Control the present: all beside
Flows like a river seaward borne,
Now rolling on its placid tide,
Now whirling massy trunks uptorn,
And waveworn crags, and farms, and stock,
In chaos blent, while hill and wood
Reverberate to the enormous shock,
When savage rains the tranquil flood
Have stirr'd to madness. Happy he,
Self-centred, who each night can say,
“My life is lived: the morn may see
A clouded or a sunny day:
That rests with Jove: but what is gone,
He will not, cannot turn to nought;
Nor cancel, as a thing undone,
What once the flying hour has brought.”
Fortune, who loves her cruel game,
Still bent upon some heartless whim,
Shifts her caresses, fickle dame,
Now kind to me, and now to him:
She stays; 'tis well: but let her shake
Those wings, her presents I resign,
Cloak me in native worth, and take
Chaste Poverty undower'd for mine.
Though storms around my vessel rave,
I will not fall to craven prayers,
Nor bargain by my vows to save
My Cyprian and Sidonian wares,
Else added to the insatiate main.
Then through the wild Aegean roar
The breezes and the Brethren Twain
Shall waft my little boat ashore.
And now 'tis done: more durable than brass
My monument shall be, and raise its head
O'er royal pyramids: it shall not dread
Corroding rain or angry Boreas,
Nor the long lapse of immemorial time.
I shall not wholly die: large residue
Shall 'scape the queen of funerals. Ever new
My after fame shall grow, while pontiffs climb
With silent maids the Capitolian height.
“Born,” men will say, “where Aufidus is loud,
Where Daunus, scant of streams, beneath him bow'd
The rustic tribes, from dimness he wax'd bright,
First of his race to wed the Aeolian lay
To notes of Italy.” Put glory on,
My own Melpomene, by genius won,
And crown me of thy grace with Delphic bay.

> Latin: iniecta monstris Terra dolet suis
maeretque partus fulmine luridum
missos ad Orcum; nec peredit
inpositam celer ignis Aetnen
incontinentis nec Tityi iecur
reliquit ales, nequitiae additus
custos; amatorem trecentae
Pirithoum cohibent catenae.
Caelo tonantem credidimus Iovem
regnare; praesens divus habebitur
Augustus adiectis Britannis
imperio gravibusque Persis.
milesne Crassi coniuge barbara
turpis maritus vixit et hostium,
pro curia inversique mores!
consenuit socerorum in armis
sub rege Medo Marsus et Apulus,
anciliorum et nominis et togae
oblitus aeternaeque Vestae,
incolumi Iove et urbe Roma?
hoc caverat mens provida Reguli
dissentientis condicionibus
foedis et exemplo trahentis
perniciem veniens in aevum,
si non periret inmiserabilis
captiva pubes. “signa ego Punicis
adfixa delubris et arma
militibus sine caede” dixit
“derepta vidi, vidi ego civium
retorta tergo bracchia libero
portasque non clausas et arva
Marte coli populata nostro.
auro repensus scilicet acrior
miles redibit: flagitio additis
damnum; neque amissos colores
lana refert medicata fuco
nec vera virtus, cum semel excidit,
curat reponi deterioribus.
si pugnat extricata densis
cerva plagis, erit ille fortis
qui perfidis se credidit hostibus
et Marte Poenos proteret altero;
qui lora restrictis lacertis
sensit iners timuitque mortem,
hic, unde vitam sumeret inscius,
pacem duello miscuit. o pudor!
o magna Carthago, probrosis
altior Italiae ruinis!”
fertur pudicae coniugis osculum
parvosque natos ut capitis minor
ab se removisse et virilem
torvus humi posuisse voltum,
donec labantis consilio patres
firmaret auctor numquam alias dato
interque maerentis amicos
egregius properaret exul.
atqui sciebat, quae sibi barbarus
tortor pararet: non aliter tamen
dimovit obstantis propinquos
et populum reditus morantem
quam si clientum longa negotia
diiudicata lite relinqueret
tendens Venafranos in agros
aut Lacedaemonium Tarentum.
Delicta maiorum inmeritus lues,
Romane, donec templa refeceris
aedisque labentis deorum et
foeda nigro simulacra fumo.
dis te minorem quod geris, imperas:
hinc omne principium, huc refer exitum:
di multa neglecti dederunt
Hesperiae mala luctuosae.
iam bis Monaeses et Pacori manus
inauspicatos contudit impetus
nostros et adiecisse praedam
torquibus exiguis renidet.
paene occupatam seditionibus
delevit urbem Dacus et Aethiops,
hic classe formidatus, ille
missilibus melior sagittis.
fecunda culpae saecula nuptias
primum inquinavere et genus et domos:
hoc fonte derivata clades
in patriam populumque fluxit.
motus doceri gaudet Ionicos
matura virgo et fingitur artibus
iam nunc et incestos amores
de tenero meditatur ungui.
mox iuniores quaerit adulteros
inter mariti vina neque eligit
cui donet inpermissa raptim
gaudia luminibus remotis,
sed iussa coram non sine conscio
surgit marito, seu vocat institor
seu navis Hispanae magister,
dedecorum pretiosus emptor.
non his iuventus orta parentibus
infecit aequor sanguine Punico
Pyrrhumque et ingentem cecidit
Antiochum Hannibalemque dirum,
sed rusticorum mascula militum
proles, Sabellis docta ligonibus
versare glaebas et severae
matris ad arbitrium recisos
portare fustis, sol ubi montium
mutaret umbras et iuga demeret
bubus fatigatis amicum
tempus agens abeunte curru.
damnosa quid non inminuit dies?
aetas parentum, peior avis, tulit
nos nequiores, mox daturos
progeniem vitiosiorem.
Quid fles, Asterie, quem tibi, candidi
primo restituent vere Favonii
Thyna merce beatum,
constantis iuvenem fide
Gygen? ille Notis actus ad Oricum
post insana Caprae sidera frigidas
noctis non sine multis
insomnis lacrimis agit.
atqui sollicitae nuntius hospitae,
suspirare Chloen et miseram tuis
dicens ignibus uri,
temptat mille vafer modis:
ut Proetum mulier perfida credulum
falsis inpulerit criminibus nimis
casto Bellerophontae
maturare necem, refert;
narrat paene datum Pelea Tartaro,
Magnessam Hippolyten dum fugit abstinens,
et peccare docentis
fallax historias movet.
frustra: nam scopulis surdior Icari
voces audit adhuc integer. at tibi
ne vicinus Enipeus
plus iusto placeat cave;
quamvis non alius flectere equum sciens
aeque conspicitur gramine Martio,
nec quisquam citus aeque
Tusco denatat alveo.
prima nocte domum claude neque in vias
sub cantu querulae despice tibiae
et te saepe vocanti
duram difficilis mane.
Martiis caelebs quid agam kalendis,
quid velint flores et acerra turis
plena miraris positusque carbo in
caespite vivo,
docte sermones utriusque linguae?
voveram dulcis epulas et album
Libero caprum prope funeratus
arboris ictu.
hic dies anno redeunte festus
corticem adstrictum pice dimovebit
amphorae fumum bibere institutae
consule Tullo.
sume, Maecenas, cyathos amici
sospitis centum et vigiles lucernas
perfer in lucem: procul omnis esto
clamor et ira.
mitte civilis super urbe curas:
occidit Daci Cotisonis agmen,
Medus infestus sibi luctuosis
dissidet armis,
servit Hispanae vetus hostis orae
Cantaber, sera domitus catena,
iam Scythae laxo meditantur arcu
cedere campis.
neglegens, ne qua populus laboret,
parce privatus nimium cavere et
dona praesentis cape laetus horae,
linque severa.
“Donec gratus eram tibi
nec quisquam potior bracchia candidae
cervici iuvenis dabat,
Persarum vigui rege beatior.”
“donec non alia magis
arsisti neque erat Lydia post Chloen,
multi Lydia nominis,
Romana vigui clarior Ilia.”
“me nunc Thressa Chloe regit,
dulcis docta modos et citharae sciens,
pro qua non metuam mori,
si parcent animae fata superstiti”
“me torret face mutua
Thurini Calais filius Ornyti,
pro quo bis patiar mori,
si parcent puero fata superstiti.”
“quid si prisca redit Venus
diductosque iugo cogit aeneo?
si flava excutitur Chloe
reiectaeque patet ianua Lydiae?”
“quamquam sidere pulchrior
ille est, tu levior cortice et inprobo
iracundior Hadria:
tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam lubens.”
Extremum Tanain si biberes, Lyce,
saevo nupta viro, me tamen asperas
porrectum ante foris obicere incolis
plorares Aquilonibus
audis, quo strepitu ianua, quo nemus
inter pulcra satum tecta remugiat
ventis et positas ut glaciet nives
puro numine Iuppiter?
ingratam Veneri pone superbiam,
ne currente retro funis eat rota:
non te Penelopen difficilem procis
Tyrrhenus genuit parens.
o quamvis neque te munera nec preces
nec tinctus viola pallor amantium
nec vir Pieria paelice saucius
curvat, supplicibus tuis
parcas, nec rigida mollior aesculo
nec Mauris animum mitior anguibus:
non hoc semper erit liminis aut aquae
caelestis patiens latus.
Mercuri, nam te docilis magistro
movit Amphion lapides canendo,
tuque testudo resonare septem
callida nervis,
nec loquax olim neque grata, nunc et
divitum mensis et amica templis,
dic modos, Lyde quibus obstinatas
adplicet auris,
quae velut latis equa trima campis
ludit exsultim metuitque tangi
nuptiarum expers et adhuc protervo
cruda marito.
tu potes tigris comitesque silvas
ducere et rivos celeres morari;
cessit immanis tibi blandienti
ianitor aulae
Cerberus, quamvis furiale centum
muniant angues caput eius atque
spiritus taeter saniesque manet
ore trilingui;
quin et Ixion Tityosque voltu
risit invito, stetit urna paulum
sicca, dum grato Danai puellas
carmine mulces.
audiat Lyde scelus atque notas
virginum poenas et inane lymphae
dolium fundo pereuntis imo
seraque fata,
quae manent culpas etiam sub Orco.
inpiae, (nam quid potuere maius?)
inpiae sponsos potuere duro
perdere ferro.
una de multis face nuptiali
digna periurum fuit in parentem
splendide mendax et in omne virgo
nobilis aevum,
“surge” quae dixit iuveni marito,
“surge, ne longus tibi somnus unde
non times detur; socerum et scelestas
falle sorores,
quae velut nactae vitulos leaenae
singulos eheu lacerant: ego illis
mollior nec te feriam neque intra
claustra tenebo.
me pater saevis oneret catenis,
quod viro clemens misero peperci,
me vel extremos Numidarum in agros
classe releget:
i pedes quo te rapiunt et aurae,
dum favet nox et Venus, i secundo
omine et nostri memorem sepulcro
scalpe querelam.”
Miserarum est neque amori dare ludum neque dulci
mala vino lavere, aut exanimari metuentis
patruae verbera linguae.
tibi qualum Cythereae puer ales, tibi telas
operosaeque Minervae studium aufert, Neobule,
Liparaei nitor Hebri,
simul unctos Tiberinis umeros lavit in undis,
eques ipso melior Bellerophonte, neque pugno
neque segni pede victus,
catus idem per apertum fugientis agitato
grege cervos iaculari et celer arto latitantem
fruticeto excipere aprum.
O fons Bandusiae splendidior vitro,
dulci digne mero non sine floribus,
cras donaberis haedo,
cui frons turgida cornibus
primis et venerem et proelia destinat;
frustra: nam gelidos inficiet tibi
rubro sanguine rivos
lascivi suboles gregis.
te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae
nescit tangere, tu frigus amabile
fessis vomere tauris
praebes et pecori vago.
fies nobilium tu quoque fontium
me dicente cavis inpositam ilicem
saxis, unde loquaces
lymphae desiliunt tuae.
Herculis ritu modo dictus, o plebs,
morte venalem petiisse laurum
Caesar Hispana repetit penatis
victor ab ora.
unico gaudens mulier marito
prodeat iustis operata sacris
et soror clari ducis et decorae
supplice vitta
virginum matres iuvenumque nuper
sospitum; vos, o pueri et puellae
iam virum expertae, male nominatis
parcite verbis.
hic dies vere mihi festus atras
exiget curas ego nec tumultum
nec mori per vim metuam tenente
Caesare terras.
i pete unguentum, puer, et coronas
et cadum Marsi memorem duelli,
Spartacum siqua potuit vagantem
fallere testa.
dic et argutae properet Neaerae
murreum nodo cohibere crinem;
si per invisum mora ianitorem
fiet, abito.
lenit albescens animos capillus
litium et rixae cupidos protervae;
non ego hoc ferrem calidus iuventa
consule Planco.
Uxor pauperis Ibyci,
tandem nequitiae fige modum tuae
famosisque laboribus;
maturo propior desine funeri
inter ludere virgines
et stellis nebulam spargere candidis.
non, siquid Pholoen, satis
et te, Chlori, decet: filia rectius
expugnat iuvenum domos,
pulso Thyias uti concita tympano.
illam cogit amor Nothi
lascivae similem ludere capreae,
te lanae prope nobilem
tonsae Luceriam, non citharae decent
nec flos purpureus rosae
nec poti, vetulam, faece tenus cadi.
Inclusam Danaen turris aenea
robustaeque fores et vigilum canum
tristes excubiae munierant satis
nocturnis ab adulteris,
si non Acrisium virginis abditae
custodem pavidum Iuppiter et Venus
risissent: fore enim tutum iter et patens
converso in pretium deo.
aurum per medios ire satellites
et perrumpere amat saxa potentius
ictu fulmineo: concidit auguris
Argivi domus ob lucrum
demersa exitio; diffidit urbium
portas vir Macedo et subruit aemulos
reges muneribus; munera navium
saevos inlaqueant duces.
crescentem sequitur cura pecuniam
maiorumque fames. iure perhorrui
late conspicuum tollere verticem,
Maecenas, equitum decus.
quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
ab dis plura feret nil cupientium
nudus castra peto et transfuga divitum
partis linquere gestio,
contemptae dominus splendidior rei,
quam si quidquid arat inpiger Apulus
occultare meis dicerer horreis,
magnas inter opes inops.
purae rivos aquae silvaque iugerum
paucorum et segetis certa fides meae
fulgentem imperio fertilis Africae
fallit sorte beatior.
quamquam nec Calabrae mella ferunt apes
nec Laestrygonia Bacchus in amphora
languescit mihi nec pinguia Gallicis
crescunt vellera pascuis:
inportuna tamen pauperies abest
nec, si plura velim, tu dare deneges.
contracto melius parva cupidine
vectigalia porrigam
quam si Mygdoniis regnum Alyattei
campis continuem. multa petentibus
desunt multa: bene est cui deus obtulit
parca quod satis est manu.
Aeli vetusto nobilis ab Lamo,
quando et priores hinc Lamias ferunt
denominatos et nepotum
per memores genus omne fastos,
auctore ab illo ducis originem,
qui Formiarum moenia dicitur
princeps et innantem Maricae
litoribus tenuisse Lirim,
late tyrannus:— cras foliis nemus
multis et alga litus inutili
demissa tempestas ab Euro
sternet, aquae nisi fallit augur
annosa cornix. dum potes, aridum
conpone lignum: cras genium mero
curabis et porco bimenstri
cum famulis operum solutis.
Faune, Nympharum fugientum amator,
per meos finis et aprica rura
lenis incedas abeasque parvis
aequus alumnis,
si tener pleno cadit haedus anno
larga nec desunt Veneris sodali
vina craterae, vetus ara multo
fumat odore.
ludit herboso pecus omne campo
cum tibi nonae redeunt Decembres,
festus in pratis vacat otioso
cum bove pagus,
inter audacis lupus errat agnos,
spargit agrestis tibi silva frondes,
gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor
ter pede terram.
Quantum distet ab Inacho
Codrus pro patria non timidus mori
narras et genus Aeaci
et pugnata sacro bella sub Ilio:
quo Chium pretio cadum
mercemur, quis aquam temperet ignibus,
quo praebente domum et quota
Paelignis caream frigoribus, taces.
da lunae propere novae,
da noctis mediae, da, puer, auguris
Murenae: tribus aut novem
miscentur cyathis pocula commodis.
qui Musas amat imparis,
ternos ter cyathos attonitus petet
vates; tris prohibet supra
rixarum metuens tangere Gratia
nudis iuncta sororibus.
insanire iuvat: cur Berecyntiae
cessant flamina tibiae?
cur pendet tacita fistula cum lyra?
parcentis ego dexteras
odi: sparge rosas, audiat invidus
dementem strepitum Lycus
et vicina seni non habilis Lyco.
spissa te nitidum coma,
puro te similem, Telephe, Vespero
tempestiva petit Rhode;
me lentus Glycerae torret amor meae.
Non vides, quanto moveas periclo,
Pyrrhe, Gaetulae catulos leaenae?
dura post paulo fugies inaudax
proelia raptor,
cum per obstantis iuvenum catervas
ibit insignem repetens Nearchum:
grande certamen, tibi praeda cedat,
maior an illa.
interim, dum tu celeres sagittas
promis, haec dentis acuit timendos,
arbiter pugnae posuisse nudo
sub pede palmam
fertur et leni recreare vento
sparsum odoratis umerum capillis,
qualis aut Nireus fuit aut aquosa
raptus ab Ida.
O nata mecum consule Manlio,
seu tu querellas sive geris iocos
seu rixam et insanos amores
seu facilem, pia testa, somnum,
quocumque lectum nomine Massicum
servas, moveri digna bono die,
descende Corvino iubente
promere languidiora vina.
non ille, quamquam Socraticis madet
sermonibus, te neglegit horridus:
narratur et prisci Catonis
saepe mero caluisse virtus.
tu lene tormentum ingenio admoves
plerumque duro, tu sapientium
curas et arcanum iocoso
consilium retegis Lyaeo,
tu spem reducis mentibus anxiis
virisque et addis cornua pauperi
post te neque iratos trementi
regum apices neque militum arma.
te Liber et si laeta aderit Venus
segnesque nodum solvere Gratiae
vivaeque producent lucernae,
dum rediens fugat astra Phoebus.
Montium custos nemorumque, virgo,
quae laborantis utero puellas
ter vocata audis adimisque leto,
diva triformis,
imminens villae tua pinus esto,
quam per exactos ego laetus annos
verris obliquum meditantis ictum
sanguine donem.
Caelo supinas si tuleris manus
nascente luna, rustica Phidyle,
si ture placaris et horna
fruge Laris avidaque porca:
nec pestilentem sentiet Africum
fecunda vitis nec sterilem seges
robiginem aut dulces alumni
pomifero grave tempus anno.
nam quae nivali pascitur Algido
devota quercus inter et ilices
aut crescit Albanis in herbis
victima, pontificum securis
cervice tinguet: te nihil attinet
temptare multa caede bidentium
parvos coronantem marino
rore deos fragilique myrto.
inmunis aram si tetigit manus,
non sumptuosa blandior hostia,
mollivit aversos Penatis
farre pio et saliente mica.
Intactis opulentior
thesauris Arabum et divitis Indiae
caementis licet occupes
terrenum omne tuis et mare publicum:
si figit adamantinos
summis verticibus dira Necessitas
clavos, non animum metu,
non mortis laqueis expedies caput.
campestres melius Scythae,
quorum plaustra vagas rite trahunt domos
vivunt et rigidi Getae,
inmetata quibus iugera liberas
fruges et Cererem ferunt
nec cultura placet longior annua
defunctumque laboribus
aequali recreat sorte vicarius.
illic matre carentibus
privignis mulier temperat innocens
nec dotata regit virum
coniunx nec nitido fidit adultero;
dos est magna parentium
virtus et metuens alterius viri
certo foedere castitas,
et peccare nefas aut pretium est mori.
o quisquis volet inpias
caedis et rabiem tollere civicam,
si quaeret pater urbium
subscribi statuis, indomitam audeat
refrenare licentiam,
clarus postgenitis: quatenus, heu nefas
virtutem incolumem odimus,
sublatam ex oculis quaerimus invidi.
quid tristes querimoniae,
si non supplicio culpa reciditur,
quid leges sine moribus
vanae proficiunt, si neque fervidis
pars inclusa caloribus
mundi nec Boreae finitimum latus
durataeque solo nives
mercatorem abigunt, horrida callidi
vincunt aequora navitae,
magnum pauperies opprobrium iubet
quidvis et facere et pati
virtutisque viam deserit arduae?
vel nos in Capitolium,
quo clamor vocat et turba faventium,
vel nos in mare proximum
gemmas et lapides aurum et inutile,
summi materiem mali,
mittamus, scelerum si bene paenitet.
eradenda cupidinis
pravi sunt elementa et tenerae nimis
mentes asperioribus
formandae studiis. nescit equo rudis
haerere ingenuus puer
venarique timet, ludere doctior,
seu Graeco iubeas trocho
seu malis vetita legibus alea,
cum periura patris fides
consortem socium fallat et hospites
indignoque pecuniam
heredi properet. scilicet inprobae
crescunt divitiae, tamen
curtae nescio quid semper abest rei.
Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui
plenum? quae nemora aut quos agor in specus,
velox mente nova? quibus
antris egregii Caesaris audiar
aeternum meditans decus
stellis inserere et consilio Iovis?
dicam insigne, recens, adhuc
indictum ore alio. non secus in iugis
exsomnis stupet Euhias
Hebrum prospiciens et nive candidam
Thracen ac pede barbaro
lustratam Rhodopen, ut mihi devio
ripas et vacuum nemus
mirari libet. o Naiadum potens
Baccharumque valentium
proceras manibus vertere fraxinos,
nil parvum aut humili modo,
nil mortale loquar. dulce periculum est,
o Lenaee, sequi deum
cingentem viridi tempora pampino.
Vixi puellis nuper idoneus
et militavi non sine gloria;
nunc arma defunctumque bello
barbiton hic paries habebit,
laevum marinae qui Veneris latus
custodit. hic, hic ponite lucida
funalia et vectis et arcus
oppositis foribus minacis.
o quae beatam diva tenes Cyprum et
Memphin carentem Sithonia nive,
regina, sublimi flagello
tange Chloen semel arrogantem.
Inpios parrae recinentis omen
ducat et praegnans canis aut ab agro
rava decurrens lupa Lanuvino
fetaque volpes;
rumpat et serpens iter institutum,
si per obliquum similis sagittae
terruit mannos: ego cui timebo,
providus auspex,
antequam stantis repetat paludes
imbrium divina avis imminentium,
oscinem corvum prece suscitabo
solis ab ortu.
sis licet felix, ubicumque mavis,
et memor nostri, Galatea, vivas
teque nec laevos vetet ire picus
nec vaga cornix.
sed vides, quanto trepidet tumultu
pronus Orion. ego quid sit ater
Hadriae novi sinus et quid albus
peccet Iapyx.
hostium uxores puerique caecos
sentiant motus orientis Austri et
aequoris nigri fremitum et trementis
verbere ripas.
sic et Europe niveum doloso
credidit tauro latus et scatentem
beluis pontum mediasque fraudes
palluit audax.
nuper in pratis studiosa florum et
debitae Nymphis opifex coronae
nocte sublustri nihil astra praeter
vidit et undas.
quae simul centum tetigit potentem
oppidis Creten, “pater, o relictum
filiae nomen pietasque” dixit
“victa furore!
unde quo veni? levis una mors est
virginum culpae. vigilansne ploro
turpe conmissum an vitiis carentem
ludit imago
vana, quae porta fugiens eburna
somnium ducit? meliusne fluctus
ire per longos fuit an recentis
carpere flores?
siquis infamem mihi nunc iuvencum
dedat iratae, lacerare ferro et
frangere enitar modo multum amati
cornua monstri.
inpudens liqui patrios Penates,
inpudens Orcum moror. o deorum
siquis haec audis, utinam inter errem
nuda leones.
antequam turpis macies decentis
occupet malas teneraeque sucus
defluat praedae, speciosa quaero
pascere tigris
“vilis Europe” pater urget absens:
“quid mori cessas? potes hac ab orno
pendulum zona bene te secuta
laedere collum.
sive te rupes et acuta leto
saxa delectant, age te procellae
crede veloci, nisi erile mavis
carpere pensum
regius sanguis dominaeque tradi
barbarae paelex.”” aderat querenti
perfidum ridens Venus et remisso
filius arcu.
mox ubi lusit satis, “abstineto”
dixit “irarum calidaeque rixae,
cum tibi invisus laceranda reddet
cornua taurus.
uxor invicti Iovis esse nescis.
mitte singultus, bene ferre magnam
disce fortunam; tua sectus orbis
nomina ducet.”
Festo quid potius die
Neptuni faciam? prome reconditum,
Lyde, strenua Caecubum,
munitaeque adhibe vim sapientiae.
inclinare meridiem
sentis et, veluti stet volucris dies,
parcis deripere horreo
cessantem Bibuli consulis amphoram.
nos cantabimus invicem
Neptunum et viridis Nereidum comas;
tu curva recines lyra
Latonam et celeris spicula Cynthiae;
summo carmine quae Cnidon
fulgentisque tenet Cycladas et Paphon
iunctis visit oloribus
dicetur, merita Nox quoque nenia.
Tyrrhena regum progenies, tibi
non ante verso lene merum cado
cum flore, Maecenas, rosarum et
pressa tuis balanus capillis
iamdudum apud me est: eripe te morae
ne semper udum Tibur et Aefulae
declive contempleris arvum et
Telegoni iuga parricidae.
fastidiosam desere copiam et
molem propinquam nubibus arduis,
omitte mirari beatae
fumum et opes strepitumque Romae.
plerumque gratae divitibus vices
mundaeque parvo sub lare pauperum
cenae sine aulaeis et ostro
sollicitam explicuere frontem.
Iam clarus occultum Andromedae pater
ostendit ignem, iam Procyon furit
et stella vesani Leonis,
sole dies referente siccos;
iam pastor umbras cum grege languido
rivumque fessus quaerit et horidi
dumeta Silvani, caretque
ripa vagis taciturna ventis.
tu civitatem quis deceat status
curas et urbi sollicitus times
quid Seres et regnata Cyro
Bactra parent Tanaisque discors.
prudens futuri temporis exitum
caliginosa nocte premit deus
ridetque, si mortalis ultra
fas trepidat. quod adest memento
conponere aequos; cetera fluminis
ritu feruntur, nunc medio alveo
cum pace delabentis Etruscum
in mare, nunc lapides adesos
stirpisque raptas et pecus et domos
volventis una, non sine montium
clamore vicinaeque silvae,
cum fera diluvies quietos
inritat amnis. ille potens sui
laetusque deget cui licet in diem
dixisse “vixi: cras vel atra
nube polum pater occupato
vel sole puro; non tamen inritum
quodcumque retro est efficiet neque
diffinget infectumque reddet
quod fugiens semel hora vexit.”
Fortuna saevo laeta negotio et
ludum insolentem ludere pertinax
transmutat incertos honores,
nunc mihi nunc alii benigna.
laudo manentem; si celeres quatit
pennas, resigno quae dedit et mea
virtute me involvo probamque
pauperiem sine dote quaero.
non est meum, si mugiat Africis
malus procellis, ad miseras preces
decurrere et votis pacisci
ne Cypriae Tyriaeque merces
addant avaro divitias mari:
tunc me biremis praesidio scaphae
tutum per Aegaeos tumultus
aura feret geminusque Pollux.
Exegi monumentum aere perennius
regalique situ pyramidum altius,
quod non imber edax, non aquilo impotens
possit diruere aut innumerabilis
annorum series et fuga temporum.
non omnis moriar multaque pars mei
vitabit Libitinam; usque ego postera
crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium
scandet cum tacita virgine pontifex.
dicar, qua violens obstrepit Aufidus
et qua pauper aquae Daunus agrestium
regnavit populorum, ex humili potens,
princeps Aeolium carmen ad Italos
deduxisse modos. sume superbiam
quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica
lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.

## 4. Book IV

Source: https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/4/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/horace-odes/4/#p-N

[¶0] Yet again thou wak'st the flame
That long had slumber'd! Spare me, Venus, spare!

> Latin: Intermissa, Venus, diu
rursus bella moves? parce, precor precor.

[¶1] Trust me, I am not the same
As in the reign of Cinara, kind and fair.
Cease thy softening spells to prove
On this old heart, by fifty years made hard,
Cruel Mother of sweet Love!
Haste, where gay youth solicits thy regard.

> Latin: non sum qualis eram bonae
sub regno Cinarae. desine, dulcium
mater saeva Cupidinum,
circa lustra decem flectere mollibus
iam durum imperiis: abi,
quo blandae iuvenum te revocant preces.

[¶2] With thy purple cygnets fly
To Paullus' door, a seasonable guest;
There within hold revelry,
There light thy flame in that congenial breast.

> Latin: tempestivius in domum
Pauli purpureis ales oloribus
comissabere Maximi,
si torrere iecur quaeris idoneum;

[¶3] He, with birth and beauty graced,
The trembling client's champion, ne'er tongue-tied,
Master of each manly taste,
Shall bear thy conquering banners far and wide.
Let him smile in triumph gay,
True heart, victorious over lavish hand,
By the Alban lake that day
'Neath citron roof all marble shalt thou stand:

> Latin: namque et nobilis et decens
et pro sollicitis non tacitus reis
et centum puer artium
late signa feret militiae tuae
et, quandoque potentior
largi muneribus riserit aemuli,
Albanos prope te lacus
ponet marmoream sub trabe citrea.

[¶4] Incense there and fragrant spice
With odorous fumes thy nostrils shall salute;
Blended notes thine ear entice,
The lyre, the pipe, the Berecyntine flute:

> Latin: illic plurima naribus
duces tura lyraeque et Berecyntiae
delectabere tibiae
mixtis carminibus non sine fistula;

[¶5] Graceful youths and maidens bright
Shall twice a day thy tuneful praise resound,
While their feet, so fair and white,
In Salian measure three times beat the ground.

> Latin: illic bis pueri die
numen cum teneris virginibus tuum
laudantes pede candido
in morem Salium ter quatient humum.

[¶6] I can relish love no more,
Nor flattering hopes that tell me hearts are true,
Nor the revel's loud uproar,
Nor fresh-wreathed flowerets, bathed in vernal dew.

> Latin: me nec femina nec puer
iam nec spes animi credula mutui
nec certare iuvat mero
nec vincire novis tempora floribus.

[¶7] Ah! but why, my Ligurine,
Steal trickling tear-drops down my wasted cheek?

> Latin: sed cur heu, Ligurine, cur
manat rara meas lacrima per genas?

[¶8] Wherefore halts this tongue of mine,
So eloquent once, so faltering now and weak?

> Latin: cur facunda parum decoro
inter verba cadit lingua silentio?

[¶9] Now I hold you in my chain,
And clasp you close, all in a nightly dream;
Now, still dreaming, o'er the plain
I chase you; now, ah cruel! down the stream.
Who fain at Pindar's flight would aim,
On waxen wings, Iulus, he
Soars heavenward, doom'd to give his name
To some new sea.
Pindar, like torrent from the steep
Which, swollen with rain, its banks o'erflows,
With mouth unfathomably deep,
Foams, thunders, glows,
All worthy of Apollo's bay,
Whether in dithyrambic roll
Pouring new words he burst away
Beyond control,
Or gods and god-born heroes tell,
Whose arm with righteous death could tame
Grim Centaurs, tame Chimaeras fell,
Out-breathing flame,
Or bid the boxer or the steed
In deathless pride of victory live,
And dower them with a nobler meed
Than sculptors give,
Or mourn the bridegroom early torn
From his young bride, and set on high
Strength, courage, virtue's golden morn,
Too good to die.
Antonius! yes, the winds blow free,
When Dirce's swan ascends the skies,
To waft him. I, like Matine bee,
In act and guise,
That culls its sweets through toilsome hours,
Am roaming Tibur's banks along,
And fashioning with puny powers
A laboured song.
Your Muse shall sing in loftier strain
How Caesar climbs the sacred height,
The fierce Sygambrians in his train,
With laurel dight,
Than whom the Fates ne'er gave mankind
A richer treasure or more dear,
Nor shall, though earth again should find
The golden year.

> Latin: nocturnis ego somniis
iam captum teneo, iam volucrem sequor
te per gramina Martii
campi, te per aquas, dure, volubilis.
Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari,
Iulle, ceratis ope Daedalea
nititur pennis vitreo daturus
nomina ponto.
monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres
quem super notas aluere ripas,
fervet inmensusque ruit profundo
Pindarus ore,
laurea donandus Apollinari,
seu per audacis nova dithyrambos
verba devolvit numerisque fertur
lege solutis,
seu deos regesque canit, deorum
sanguinem, per quos cecidere iusta
morte Centauri, cecidit tremendae
flamma Chimaerae,
sive quos Elea domum reducit
palma caelestis pugilemve equomve
dicit et centum potiore signis
munere donat,
flebili sponsae iuvenemve raptum
plorat et viris animumque moresque
aureos educit in astra nigroque
invidet Orco.
multa Dircaeum levat aura cycnum,
tendit, Antoni, quotiens in altos
nubium tractus: ego apis Matinae
more modoque
grata carpentis thyma per laborem
plurimum circa nemus uvidique
Tiburis ripas operosa parvos
carmina fingo.
concines maiore poeta plectro
Caesarem, quandoque trahet ferocis
per sacrum clivum merita decorus
fronde Sygambros;
quo nihil maius meliusve terris
fata donavere bonique divi
nec dabunt, quamvis redeant in aurum
tempora priscum.

[¶10] Your Muse shall tell of public sports,
And holyday, and votive feast,
For Caesar's sake, and brawling courts
Where strife has ceased.

> Latin: concines laetosque dies et urbis
publicum ludum super inpetrato
fortis Augusti reditu forumque
litibus orbum.

[¶11] Then, if my voice can aught avail,
Grateful for him our prayers have won,
My song shall echo, “Hail, all hail,
Auspicious Sun!”

> Latin: tum meae, si quid loquar audiendum,
vocis accedet bona pars et “o sol
pulcher, o laudande!” canam recepto
Caesare felix.

[¶12] There as you move, “Ho! Triumph, ho!
Great Triumph!” once and yet again
All Rome shall cry, and spices strow
Before your train.

> Latin: teque, dum procedis, “Io Triumphe”
non semel dicemus, “Io Triumphe”
civitas omnis dabimusque divis
tura benignis.

[¶13] Ten bulls, ten kine, your debt discharge:
A calf new-wean'd from parent cow,
Battening on pastures rich and large,
Shall quit my vow.
Like moon just dawning on the night
The crescent honours of his head;
One dapple spot of snowy white,
The rest all red.
He whom thou, Melpomene,
Hast welcomed with thy smile, in life arriving,
Ne'er by boxer's skill shall be
Renown'd abroad, for Isthmian mastery striving;
Him shall never fiery steed
Draw in Achaean car a conqueror seated;
Him shall never martial deed
Show, crown'd with bay, after proud kings defeated,
Climbing Capitolian steep:
But the cool streams that make green Tibur flourish,
And the tangled forest deep,
On soft Aeolian airs his fame shall nourish.
Rome, of cities first and best,
Deigns by her sons' according voice to hail me
Fellow-bard of poets blest,
And faint and fainter envy's growls assail me.
Goddess, whose Pierian art
The lyre's sweet sounds can modulate and measure,
Who to dumb fish canst impart
The music of the swan, if such thy pleasure:
O, 'tis all of thy dear grace
That every finger points me out in going
Lyrist of the Roman race;
Breath, power to charm, if mine, are thy bestowing!
E'en as the lightning's minister,
Whom Jove o'er all the feather'd breed
Made sovereign, having proved him sure
Erewhile on auburn Ganymede;
Stirr'd by warm youth and inborn power,
He quits the nest with timorous wing,
For winter's storms have ceased to lower,
And zephyrs of returuing spring
Tempt him to launch on unknown skies
Next on the fold he stoops downright;
Last on resisting serpents flies,
Athirst for foray and for flight:
As tender kidling on the grass
Espies, uplooking from her food,
A lion's whelp, and knows, alas!
Those new-set teeth shall drink her blood:
So look'd the Raetian mountaineers
On Drusus:—whence in every field
They learn'd through immemorial years
The Amazonian axe to wield,
I ask not now: not all of truth
We seekers find: enough to know
The wisdom of the princely youth
Has taught our erst victorious foe
What prowess dwells in boyish hearts
Rear'd in the shrine of a pure home,
What strength Augustus' love imparts
To Nero's seed, the hope of Rome.
Good sons and brave good sires approve:
Strong bullocks, fiery colts, attest
Their fathers' worth, nor weakling dove
Is hatch'd in savage eagle's nest.
But care draws forth the power within,
And cultured minds are strong for good:
Let manners fail, the plague of sin
Taints e'en the course of gentle blood.
How great thy debt to Nero's race,
O Rome, let red Metaurus say,
Slain Hasdrubal, and victory's grace
First granted on that glorious day
Which chased the clouds, and show'd the sun,
When Hannibal o'er Italy
Ran, as swift flames o'er pine-woods run,
Or Eurus o'er Sicilia's sea.
Henceforth, by fortune aiding toil,
Rome's prowess grew: her fanes, laid waste
By Punic sacrilege and spoil,
Beheld at length their gods replaced.
Then the false Libyan own'd his doom:—
“Weak deer, the wolves' predestined prey,
Blindly we rush on foes, from whom
'Twere triumph won to steal away.
That race which, strong from Ilion's fires,
Its gods, on Tuscan waters tost,
Its sons, its venerable sires,
Bore to Ausonia's citied coast;
That race, like oak by axes shorn
On Algidus with dark leaves rife,
Laughs carnage, havoc, all to scorn,
And draws new spirit from the knife.

> Latin: te decem tauri totidemque vaccae,
me tener solvet vitulus, relicta
matre qui largis iuvenescit herbis
in mea vota,
fronte curvatos imitatus ignis
tertium lunae referentis ortum,
qua notam duxit, niveus videri,
cetera fulvos.
Quem tu, Melpomene, semel
nascentem placido lumine videris,
illum non labor Isthmius
clarabit pugilem, non equos inpiger
curru ducet Achaico
victorem neque res bellica Deliis
ornatum foliis ducem,
quod regum tumidas contuderit minas,
ostendet Capitolio:
sed quae Tibur aquae fertile praefluunt
et spissae nemorum comae
fingent Aeolio carmine nobilem.
Romae principis urbium
dignatur suboles inter amabilis
vatum ponere me choros
et iam dente minus mordeor invido.
o testudinis aureae
dulcem quae strepitum, Pieri, temperas,
o mutis quoque piscibus
donatura cycni, si libeat, sonum,
totum muneris hoc tui est,
quod monstror digito praetereuntium
Romanae fidicen lyrae:
quod spiro et placeo, si placeo, tuum est.
Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem,
cui rex deorum regnum in avis vagas
permisit expertus fidelem
Iuppiter in Ganymede flavo,
olim iuventas et patrius vigor
nido laborum propulit inscium,
vernique iam nimbis remotis
insolitos docuere nisus
venti paventem, mox in ovilia
demisit hostem vividus impetus,
nunc in reluctantis dracones
egit amor dapis atque pugnae;
qualemve laetis caprea pascuis
intenta fulvae matris ab ubere
iam lacte depulsum leonem
dente novo peritura vidit:
videre Raetis bella sub Alpibus
Drusum gerentem Vindelici. quibus
mos unde deductus per omne
tempus Amazonia securi
dextras obarmet, quaerere distuli
nec scire fas est omnia, sed diu
lateque victrices catervae
consiliis iuvenis revictae
sensere, quid mens rite, quid indoles
nutrita faustis sub penetralibus
posset, quid Augusti paternus
in pueros animus Nerones.
fortes creantur fortibus et bonis:
est in iuvencis, est in equis patrum
virtus neque inbellem feroces
progenerant aquilae columbam.
doctrina sed vim promovet insitam
rectique cultus pectora roborant;
utcumque defecere mores,
indecorant bene nata culpae.
quid debeas, o Roma, Neronibus,
testis Metaurum flumen et Hasdrubal
devictus et pulcher fugatis
ille dies Latio tenebris,
qui primus alma risit adorea,
dirus per urbis Afer ut Italas
ceu flamma per taedas vel Eurus
per Siculas equitavit undas.
post hoc secundis usque laboribus
Romana pubes crevit et inpio
vastata Poenorum tumultu
fana deos habuere rectos.
dixitque tandem perfidus Hannibal:
“cervi, luporum praeda rapacium,
sectamur ultro quos opimus
fallere et effugere est triumphus.
gens, quae cremato fortis ab Ilio
iactata Tuscis aequoribus sacra
natosque maturosque patres
pertulit Ausonias ad urbis,
duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus
nigrae feraci frondis in Algido,
per damna, per caedis ab ipso
ducit opes animumque ferro.

[¶14] Not the lopp'd Hydra task'd so sore
Alcides, chafing at the foil:
No pest so fell was born of yore
From Colchian or from Theban soil.

> Latin: non hydra secto corpore firmior
vinci dolentem crevit in Herculem
monstrumve submisere Colchi
maius Echioniaeve Thebae.

[¶15] Plunged in the deep, it mounts to sight
More splendid: grappled, it will quell
Unbroken powers, and fight a fight
Whose story widow'd wives shall tell.

> Latin: merses profundo, pulchrior evenit;
luctere, multa proruet integrum
cum laude victorem geretque
proelia coniugibus loquenda.

[¶16] No heralds shall my deeds proclaim
To Carthage now: lost, lost is all:
A nation's hope, a nation's name,
They died with dying Hasdrubal.”

> Latin: Carthagini iam non ego nuntios
mittam superbos: occidit, occidit
spes omnis et fortuna nostri
nominis Hasdrubale interempto.

[¶17] What will not Claudian hands achieve?
Jove's favour is their guiding star,
And watchful potencies unweave
For them the tangled paths of war.
Best guardian of Rome's people, dearest boon
Of a kind Heaven, thou lingerest all too long:
Thou bad'st thy senate look to meet thee soon:
Do not thy promise wrong.
Restore, dear chief, the light thou tak'st away:
Ah! when, like spring, that gracious mien of thine
Dawns on thy Rome, more gently glides the day,
And suns serener shine.
See her whose darling child a long year past
Has dwelt beyond the wild Carpathian foam;
That long year o'er, the envious southern blast
Still bars him from his home:
Weeping and praying to the shore she clings,
Nor ever thence her straining eyesight turns:
So, smit by loyal passion's restless stings,
Rome for her Caesar yearns.
In safety range the cattle o'er the mead:
Sweet Peace, soft Plenty, swell the golden grain:
O'er unvex'd seas the sailors blithely speed:
Fair Honour shrinks from stain:
No guilty lusts the shrine of home defile:
Cleansed is the hand without, the heart within:
The father's features in his children smile
Swift vengeance follows sin.
Who fears the Parthian or the Scythian horde,
Or the rank growth that German forests yield,
While Caesar lives? who trembles at the sword
The fierce Iberians wield?
In his own hills each labours down the day,
Teaching the vine to clasp the widow'd tree:
Then to his cups again, where, feasting gay,
He hails his god in thee.
A household power, adored with prayers and wine,
Thou reign'st auspicious o'er his hour of ease:
Thus grateful Greece her Castor made divine,
And her great Hercules.
Ah! be it thine long holydays to give
To thy Hesperia! thus, dear chief, we pray
At sober sunrise; thus at mellow eve,
When ocean hides the day.
Thou who didst make thy vengeful might
To Niobe and Tityos known,
And Peleus' son, when Troy's tall height
Was nigh his own,
Victorious else, for thee no peer,
Though, strong in his sea-parent's power,
He shook with that tremendous spear
The Dardan tower.
He, like a pine by axes sped,
Or cypress sway'd by angry gust,
Fell ruining, and laid his head
In Trojan dust.
Not his to lie in covert pent
Of the false steed, and sudden fall
On Priam's ill-starr'd merriment
In bower and hail:
His ruthless arm in broad bare day
The infant from the breast had torn,
Nay, given to flame, ah, well a way!
The babe unborn:
But, won by Venus' voice and thine,
Relenting Jove Aeneas will'd
With other omens more benign
New walls to build.
Sweet tuner of the Grecian lyre,
Whose locks are laved in Xanthus' dews,
Blooming Agyieus! help, inspire
My Daunian Muse!
'Tis Phoebus, Phoebus gifts my tongue
With minstrel art and minstrel fires:
Come, noble youths and maidens sprung
From noble sires,
Blest in your Dian's guardian smile,
Whose shafts the flying silvans stay,
Come, foot the Lesbian measure, while
The lyre I play:
Sing of Latona's glorious boy,
Sing of night's queen with crescent horn,
Who wings the fleeting months with joy,
And swells the corn.
And happy brides shall say, “'Twas mine,
When years the cyclic season brought,
To chant the festal hymn divine
By Horace taught.”
The snow is fled: the trees their leaves put on,
The fields their green:
Earth owns the change, and rivers lessening run
Their banks between.
Naked the Nymphs and Graces in the meads
The dance essay:
“No 'scaping death” proclaims the year, that speeds
This sweet spring day.
Frosts yield to zephyrs; Summer drives out Spring,
To vanish, when
Rich Autumn sheds his fruits; round wheels the ring,—
Winter again!
Yet the swift moons repair Heaven's detriment:
We, soon as thrust
Where good Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
What are we? dust.
Can Hope assure you one more day to live
From powers above?
You rescue from your heir whate'er you give
The self you love.
When life is o'er, and Minos has rehearsed
The grand last doom,
Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst
Torquatus' tomb.
Not Dian's self can chaste Hippolytus
To life recall,
Nor Theseus free his loved Pirithous
From Lethe's thrall.
Ah Censorinus! to my comrades true
Rich cups, rare bronzes, gladly would I send:
Choice tripods from Olympia on each friend
Would I confer, choicer on none than you,
Had but my fate such gems of art bestow'd
As cunning Scopas or Parrhasius wrought,
This with the brush, that with the chisel taught
To image now a mortal, now a god.
But these are not my riches: your desire
Such luxury craves not, and your means disdain:
A poet's strain you love; a poet's strain
Accept, and learn the value of the lyre.
Not public gravings on a marble base,
Whence comes a second life to men of might
E'en in the tomb: not Hannibal's swift flight,
Nor those fierce threats flung back into his face,
Not impious Carthage in its last red blaze,
In clearer light sets forth his spotless fame,
Who from crush'd Afric took away—a name,
Than rude Calabria's tributary lays.
Let silence hide the good your hand has wrought,
Farewell, reward! Had blank oblivion's power
Dimm'd the bright deeds of Romulus, at this hour,
Despite his sire and mother, he were nought.
Thus Aeacus has 'scaped the Stygian wave,
By grace of poets and their silver tongue,
Henceforth to live the happy isles among.
No, trust the Muse: she opes the good man's grave,
And lifts him to the gods. So Hercules,
His labours o'er, sits at the board of Jove:
So Tyndareus' offspring shine as stars above,
Saving lorn vessels from the yawning seas:
So Bacchus, with the vine-wreath round his hair,
Gives prosperous issue to his votary's prayer.
Think not those strains can e'er expire,
Which, cradled 'mid the echoing roar
Of Aufidus, to Latium's lyre
I sing with arts unknown before.
Though Homer fill the foremost throne,
Yet grave Stesichorus still can please,
And fierce Alcaeus holds his own
With Pindar and Simonides.
The songs of Teos are not mute,
And Sappho's love is breathing still:
She told her secret to the lute,
And yet its chords with passion thrill.
Not Sparta's queen alone was fired
By broider'd robe and braided tress,
And all the splendours that attired
Her lover's guilty loveliness:
Not only Teucer to the field
His arrows brought, nor Ilion
Beneath a single conqueror reel'd:
Not Crete's majestic lord alone,
Or Sthenelus, earn'd the Muses' crown:
Not Hector first for child and wife,
Or brave Deiphobus, laid down
The burden of a manly life.
Before Atrides men were brave:
But ah! oblivion, dark and long,
Has lock'd them in a tearless grave,
For lack of consecrating song.
'Twixt worth and baseness, lapp'd in death,
What difference? You shall ne'er be dumb,
While strains of mine have voice and breath:
The dull neglect of days to come
Those hard-won honours shall not blight:
No, Lollius, no: a soul is yours,
Clear-sighted, keen, alike upright
When fortune smiles, and when she lowers:
To greed and rapine still severe,
Spurning the gain men find so sweet:
A consul, not of one brief year,
But oft as on the judgment-seat
You bend the expedient to the right,
Turn haughty eyes from bribes away,
Or bear your banners through the fight,
Scattering the foeman's firm array.
The lord of boundless revenues,
Salute not him as happy: no,
Call him the happy, who can use
The bounty that the gods bestow,
Can bear the load of poverty,
And tremble not at death, but sin:
No recreant he when called to die
In cause of country or of kin.
Here is a cask of Alban, more
Than nine years old: here grows for you
Green parsley, Phyllis, and good store
Of ivy too
(Wreathed ivy suits your hair, you know):
The plate shines bright: the altar, strew'd
With vervain, hungers for the flow
Of lambkin's blood.
There's stir among the serving folk;
They bustle, bustle, boy and girl;
The flickering flames send up the smoke
In many a curl.
But why, you ask, this special cheer?
We celebrate the feast of Ides,
Which April's month, to Venus dear,
In twain divides.
O, 'tis a day for reverence,
E'en my own birthday scarce so dear,
For my Maecenas counts from thence
Each added year.
'Tis Telephus that you'd bewitch:
But he is of a high degree;
Bound to a lady fair and rich,
He is not free.
O think of Phaethon half burn'd,
And moderate your passion's greed:
Think how Bellerophon was spurn'd
By his wing'd steed.
So learn to look for partners meet,
Shun lofty things, nor raise your aims
Above your fortune. Come then, sweet,
My last of flames
(For never shall another fair
Enslave me), learn a tune, to sing
With that dear voice: to music care
Shall yield its sting.
The gales of Thrace, that hush the unquiet sea,
Spring's comrades, on the bellying canvas blow:
Clogg'd earth and brawling streams alike are free
From winter's weight of snow.
Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain,
Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time
Of Cecrops' house, for bloody vengeance ta'en
On foul barbaric crime.
The keepers of fat lambkins chant their loves
To silvan reeds, all in the grassy lea,
And pleasure Him who tends the flocks and groves
Of dark-leaved Arcady.
It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine:
But would you taste the grape's Calenian juice,
Client of noble youths, to earn your wine
Some nard you must produce.
A tiny box of nard shall bring to light
The cask that in Sulpician cellar lies:
O, it can give new hopes, so fresh and bright,
And gladden gloomy eyes.
You take the bait? then come without delay
And bring your ware: be sure, 'tis not my plan
To let you drain my liquor and not pay,
As might some wealthy man.
Come, quit those covetous thoughts, those knitted brows,
Think on the last black embers, while you may,
And be for once unwise. When time allows,
'Tis sweet the fool to play.
The gods have heard, the gods have heard my prayer;
Yes, Lyce! you are growing old, and still
You struggle to look fair;
You drink, and dance, and trill
Your songs to youthful Love, in accents weak
With wine, and age, and passion. Youthful Love!
He dwells in Chia's cheek,
And hears her harp-strings move.
Rude boy, he flies like lightning o'er the heath
Past wither'd trees like you; you're wrinkled now;
The white has left your teeth
And settled on your brow.
Your Coan silks, your jewels bright as stars,
Ah no! they bring not back the days of old,
In public calendars
By flying Time enroll'd.
Where now that beauty? where those movements? where
That colour? what of her, of her is left,
Who, breathing Love's own air,
Me of myself bereft,
Who reign'd in Cinara's stead, a fair, fair face,
Queen of sweet arts? but Fate to Cinara gave
A life of little space;
And now she cheats the grave
Of Lyce, spared to raven's length of days,
That youth may see, with laughter and disgust,
A fire-brand, once ablaze,
Now smouldering in grey dust.
What honours can a grateful Rome,
A grateful senate, Caesar, give
To make thy worth through days to come
Emblazon'd on our records live,
Mightiest of chieftains whomsoe'er
The sun beholds from heaven on high?
They know thee now, thy strength in war,
Those unsubdued Vindelici.
Thine was the sword that Drusus drew,
When on the Breunian hordes he fell,
And storm'd the fierce Genaunian crew
E'en in their Alpine citadel,
And paid them back their debt twice told
'Twas then the elder Nero came
To conflict, and in ruin roll'd
Stout Raetian kernes of giant frame.
O, 'twas a gallant sight to see
The shocks that beat upon the brave
Who chose to perish and be free!
As south winds scourge the rebel wave
When through rent clouds the Pleiads weep,
So keen his force to smite, and smite
The foe, or make his charger leap
Through the red furnace of the fight.
Thus Daunia's ancient river fares,
Proud Aufidus, with bull-like horn,
When swoln with choler he prepares
A deluge for the fields of corn.
So Claudius charged and overthrew
The grim barbarian's mail-clad host,
The foremost and the hindmost slew,
And conquer'd all, and nothing lost.
The force, the forethought, were thine own,
Thine own the gods. The selfsame day
When, port and palace open thrown,
Low at thy footstool Egypt lay,
That selfsame day, three lustres gone,
Another victory to thine hand
Was given; another field was won
By grace of Caesar's high command.
Thee Spanish tribes, unused to yield,
Mede, Indian, Scyth that knows no home,
Acknowledge, sword at once and shield
Of Italy and queenly Rome.
Ister to thee, and Tanais fleet,
And Nile that will not tell his birth,
To thee the monstrous seas that beat
On Britain's coast, the end of earth,
To thee the proud Iberians bow,
And Gauls, that scorn from death to flee;
The fierce Sygambrian bends his brow,
And drops his arms to worship thee.
Of battles fought I fain had told,
And conquer'd towns, when Phoebus smote
His harp-string: “Sooth, 'twere over-bold.
To tempt wide seas in that frail boat.”
Thy age, great Caesar, has restored
To squalid fields the plenteous grain,
Given back to Rome's almighty Lord
Our standards, torn from Parthian fane,
Has closed Quirinian Janus' gate,
Wild passion's erring walk controll'd,
Heal'd the foul plague-spot of the state,
And brought again the life of old,
Life, by whose healthful power increased
The glorious name of Latium spread
To where the sun illumes the east
From where he seeks his western bed.
While Caesar rules, no civil strife
Shall break our rest, nor violence rude,
Nor rage, that whets the slaughtering knife
And plunges wretched towns in feud.
The sons of Danube shall not scorn
The Julian edicts; no, nor they
By Tanais' distant river horn,
Nor Persia, Scythia, or Cathay.
And we on feast and working-tide,
While Bacchus' bounties freely flow,
Our wives and children at our side,
First paying Heaven the prayers we owe,
Shall sing of chiefs whose deeds are done,
As wont our sires, to flute or shell,
And Troy, Anchises, and the son
Of Venus on our tongues shall dwell.

> Latin: nil Claudiae non perficient manus,
quas et benigno numine Iuppiter
defendit et curae sagaces
expediunt per acuta belli”.
Divis orte bonis, optume Romulae
custos gentis, abes iam nimium diu;
maturum reditum pollicitus patrum
sancto concilio redi.
lucem redde tuae, dux bone, patriae:
instar veris enim voltus ubi tuus
adfulsit populo, gratior it dies
et soles melius nitent.
ut mater iuvenem, quem Notus invido
flatu Carpathii trans maris aequora
cunctantem spatio longius annuo
dulci distinet a domo,
votis ominibusque et precibus vocat
curvo nec faciem litore dimovet:
sic desideriis icta fidelibus
quaerit patria Caesarem.
tutus bos etenim rura perambulat,
nutrit rura Ceres almaque Faustitas,
pacatum volitant per mare navitae;
culpari metuit fides,
nullis polluitur casta domus stupris,
mos et lex maculosum edomuit nefas,
laudantur simili prole puerperae,
culpam poena premit comes.
quis Parthum paveat, quis gelidum Scythen,
quis Germania quos horrida parturit
fetus incolumi Caesare? quis ferae
bellum curet Hiberiae?
condit quisque diem collibus in suis
et vitem viduas ducit ad arbores;
hinc ad vina redit laetus et alteris
te mensis adhibet deum;
te multa prece, te prosequitur mero
defuso pateris et Laribus tuum
miscet numen, uti Graecia Castoris
et magni memor Herculis.
“longas o utinam, dux bone, ferias
praestes Hesperiae!” dicimus integro
sicci mane die, dicimus uvidi,
cum sol Oceano subest.
Dive, quem proles Niobea magnae
vindicem linguae Tityosque raptor
sensit et Troiae prope victor altae
Pthius Achilles,
ceteris maior, tibi miles inpar,
filius quamvis Thetidis marinae
Dardanas turris quateret tremenda
cuspide pugnax—
ille, mordaci velut icta ferro
pinus aut inpulsa cupressus Euro,
procidit late posuitque collum in
pulvere Teucro;
ille non inclusus equo Minervae
sacra mentito male feriatos
Troas et laetam Priami choreis
falleret aulam,
sed palam captis gravis, heu nefas, heu,
nescios fari pueros Achivis
ureret flammis, etiam latentem
matris in alvo,
ni tuis victus Venerisque gratae
vocibus divum pater adnuisset
rebus Aeneae potiore ductos
alite muros.
doctor argutae fidicen Thaliae
Phoebe, qui Xantho lavis amne crinis,
Dauniae defende decus Camenae,
levis Agyieu.
spiritum Phoebus, mihi Phoebus artem
carminis nomenque dedit poetae.
virginum primae puerique claris
patribus orti,
Deliae tutela deae, fugacis
lyncas et cervos cohibentis arcu,
Lesbium servate pedem meique
pollicis ictum
rite Latonae puerum canentes,
rite crescentem face Noctilucam,
prosperam frugum celeremque pronos
volvere mensis.
nupta iam dices “ego dis amicum
saeculo festas referente luces
reddidi carmen docilis modorum
vatis Horati.”
Diffugere nives, redeunt iam gramina campis
arboribusque comae;
mutat terra vices et decrescentia ripas
flumina praetereunt;
Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet
ducere nuda choros:
inmortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum
quae rapit hora diem.
frigora mitescunt Zephyris, ver proterit aestas
interitura, simul
pomifer autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox
bruma recurrit iners.
damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae:
nos ubi decidimus
quo pius Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus,
pulvis et umbra sumus.
quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae
tempora di superi?
cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis amico
quae dederis animo.
cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos
fecerit arbitria,
non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te
restituet pietas;
infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum
liberat Hippolytum
nec Lethaea valet Theseus abrumpere caro
vincula Pirithoo.
Donarem pateras grataque commodus,
Censorine, meis aera sodalibus,
donarem tripodas, praemia fortium
Graiorum, neque tu pessuma munerum
ferres, divite me scilicet artium
quas aut Parrhasius protulit aut Scopas,
hic saxo, liquidis ille coloribus
sollers nunc hominem ponere, nunc deum
sed non haec mihi vis, nec tibi talium
res est aut animus deliciarum egens.
gaudes carminibus; carmina possumus
donare et pretium dicere muneri.
non incisa notis marmora publicis,
per quae spiritus et vita redit bonis
post mortem ducibus, non “celeres fugae
reiectaeque retrorsum Hannibalis minae”
non “incendia Karthaginis inpiae”,
eius, “qui domita nomen ab Africa
lucratus rediit”, clarius indicant
laudes quam “Calabrae Pierides” neque,
si chartae sileant quod bene feceris,
mercedem tuleris. quid foret Iliae
Mavortisque puer, si taciturnitas
obstaret meritis invida Romuli?
ereptum Stygiis fluctibus Aeacum
virtus et favor et lingua potentium
vatum divitibus consecrat insulis.
dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori,
caelo Musa beat. sic Iovis interest
optatis epulis inpiger Hercules,
clarum Tyndaridae sidus ab infimis
quassas eripiunt aequoribus ratis,
ornatus viridi tempora pampino
Liber vota bonos ducit ad exitus.
Ne forte credas interitura quae
longe sonantem natus ad Aufidum
non ante volgatas per artis
verba loquor socianda chordis:
non, si priores Maeonius tenet
sedes Homerus, Pindaricae latent
Ceaeque et Alcaei minaces
Stesichorique graves Camenae
nec siquid olim lusit Anacreon
delevit aetas; spirat adhuc amor
vivuntque conmissi calores
Aeoliae fidibus puellae.
non sola comptos arsit adulteri
crinis et aurum vestibus inlitum
mirata regalisque cultus
et comites Helene Lacaena
primusve Teucer tela Cydonio
direxit arcu; non semel Ilios
vexata; non pugnavit ingens
Idomeneus Sthenelusve solus
dicenda Musis proelia; non ferox
Hector vel acer Deiphobus gravis
excepit ictus pro pudicis
coniugibus puerisque primus.
vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
multi; sed omnes inlacrimabiles
urgentur ignotique longa
nocte, carent quia vate sacro.
paullum sepultae distat inertiae
celata virtus. non ego te meis
chartis inornatum silebo,
totve tuos patiar labores
inpune, Lolli, carpere lividas
obliviones. est animus tibi
rerumque prudens et secundis
temporibus dubiisque rectus,
vindex avarae fraudis et abstinens
ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniae,
consulque non unius anni,
sed quotiens bonus atque fidus
iudex honestum praetulit utili,
reiecit alto dona nocentium
voltu, per obstantis catervas
explicuit sua victor arma.
non possidentem multa vocaveris
recte beatum; rectius occupat
nomen beati qui deorum
muneribus sapienter uti
duramque callet pauperiem pati
peiusque leto flagitium timet,
non ille pro caris amicis
aut patria timidus perire.
O crudelis adhuc et Veneris muneribus potens,
insperata tuae cum veniet pluma superbiae
et, quae nunc umeris involitant, deciderint comae,
nunc et qui color est puniceae flore prior rosae
mutatus Ligurinum in faciem verterit hispidam,
dices “heu,” quotiens te speculo videris alterum,
“quae mens est hodie, cur eadem non puero fuit,
vel cur his animis incolumes non redeunt genae?”
Est mihi nonum superantis annum
plenus Albani cadus, est in horto,
Phylli, nectendis apium coronis;
est hederae vis
multa, qua crinis religata fulges,
ridet argento domus, ara castis
vincta verbenis avet immolato
spargier agno;
cuncta festinat manus, huc et illuc
cursitant mixtae pueris puellae,
sordidum flammae trepidant rotantes
vertice fumum.
ut tamen noris, quibus advoceris
gaudiis: Idus tibi sunt agendae,
qui dies mensem Veneris marinae
findit Aprilem,
iure sollemnis mihi sanctiorque
paene natali proprio, quod ex hac
luce Maecenas meus adfluentis
ordinat annos.
Telephum, quem tu petis, occupavit
non tuae sortis iuvenem puella
dives et lasciva tenetque grata
compede vinctum.
terret ambustus Phaethon avaras
spes et exemplum grave praebet ales
Pegasus terrenum equitem gravatus
Bellerophontem,
semper ut te digna sequare et ultra
quam licet sperare nefas putando
disparem vites. age iam, meorum
finis amorum,
(non enim posthac alia calebo
femina) condisce modos, amanda
voce quos reddas: minuentur atrae
carmine curae.
Iam veris comites, quae mare temperant,
inpellunt animae lintea Thraciae,
iam nec prata rigent nec fluvii strepunt
hiberna nive turgidi.
nidum ponit, Ityn flebiliter gemens,
infelix avis et Cecropiae domus
aeternum opprobrium, quod male barbaras
regum est ulta libidines.
dicunt in tenero gramine pinguium
custodes ovium carmina fistula
delectantque deum, cui pecus et nigri
colles Arcadiae placent.
adduxere sitim tempora, Vergili:
sed pressum Calibus ducere Liberum
si gestis, iuvenum nobilium cliens,
nardo vina merebere.
nardi parvus onyx eliciet cadum,
qui nunc Sulpiciis adcubat horreis,
spes donare novas largus amaraque
curarum eluere efficax.
ad quae si properas gaudia, cum tua
velox merce veni: non ego te meis
inmunem meditor tinguere poculis,
plena dives ut in domo.
verum pone moras et studium lucri
nigrorumque memor, dum licet, ignium
misce stultitiam consiliis brevem:
dulce est desipere in loco.
Audivere, Lyce, di mea vota, di
audivere, Lyce: fis anus et tamen
vis formosa videri
ludisque et bibis inpudens
et cantu tremulo pota Cupidinem
lentum sollicitas. ille virentis et
doctae psallere Chiae
pulcris excubat in genis.
inportunus enim transvolat aridas
quercus et refugit te quia luridi
dentes, te quia rugae
turpant et capitis nives.
nec Coae referunt iam tibi purpurae
nec cari lapides tempora, quae semel
notis condita fastis
inclusit volucris dies.
quo fugit venus, heu, quove color, decens
quo motus? quid habes illius, illius,
quae spirabat amores,
quae me surpuerat mihi
felix post Cinaram notaque et artium
gratarum facies? sed Cinarae brevis
annos fata dederunt,
servatura diu parem
cornicis vetulae temporibus Lycen,
possent ut iuvenes visere fervidi
multo non sine risu
dilapsam in cineres facem.
Quae cura patrum quaeve Quiritium
plenis honorum muneribus tuas,
Auguste, virtutes in aevum
per titulos memoresque fastos
aeternet, o, qua sol habitabilis
inlustrat oras, maxime principum,
quem legis expertes Latinae
Vindelici didicere nuper
quid Marte posses. milite nam tuo
Drusus Genaunos, inplacidum genus,
Breunosque velocis et arcis
Alpibus inpositas tremendis
deiecit acer plus vice simplici;
maior Neronum mox grave proelium
conmisit immanisque Raetos
auspiciis pepulit secundis,
spectandus in certamine Martio
devota morti pectora liberae
quantis fatigaret ruinis,
indomitas prope qualis undas
exercet Auster Pleiadum choro
scindente nubis, inpiger hostium
vexare turmas et frementem
mittere equum medios per ignis.
sic tauriformis volvitur Aufidus,
qui regna Dauni praefluit Apuli,
cum saevit horrendamque cultis
diluviem meditatur agris,
ut barbarorum Claudius agmina
ferrata vasto diruit impetu
primosque et extremos metendo
stravit humum sine clade victor,
te copias, te consilium et tuos
praebente divos. nam tibi quo die
portus Alexandrea supplex
et vacuam patefecit aulam,
Fortuna lustro prospera tertio
belli secundos reddidit exitus
laudemque et optatum peractis
imperiis decus adrogavit.
te Cantaber non ante domabilis
Medusque et Indus, te profugus Scythes
miratur, o tutela praesens
Italiae dominaeque Romae.
te fontium qui celat origines
Nilusque et Hister, te rapidus Tigris,
te beluosus qui remotis
obstrepit Oceanus Britannis,
te non paventis funera Galliae
duraeque tellus audit Hiberiae,
te caede gaudentes Sygambri
conpositis venerantur armis.
Phoebus volentem proelia me loqui
victas et urbis increpuit lyra,
ne parva Tyrrhenum per aequor
vela darem. tua, Caesar, aetas
fruges et agris rettulit uberes
et signa nostro restituit Iovi
derepta Parthorum superbis
postibus et vacuum duellis
Ianum Quirini clausit et ordinem
rectum evaganti frena licentiae
iniecit emovitque culpas
et veteres revocavit artis,
per quas Latinum nomen et Italae
crevere vires famaque et imperi
porrecta maiestas ad ortus
solis ab Hesperio cubili.
custode rerum Caesare non furor
civilis aut vis exiget otium,
non ira, quae procudit ensis
et miseras inimicat urbis.
non qui profundum Danuvium bibunt
edicta rumpent Iulia, non Getae,
non Seres infidique Persae,
non Tanain prope flumen orti.
nosque et profestis lucibus et sacris
inter iocosi munera Liberi
cum prole matronisque nostris,
rite deos prius adprecati,
virtute functos more patrum duces
Lydis remixto carmine tibiis
Troiamque et Anchisen et almae
progeniem Veneris canemus.