ODES OF HORACE The best of Lyric Poets, Containing much morality, and sweetness.  
Selected, and Translated by Sr: T: H: 1625  
Imprinted at London by A: M: for Will: Lée and are to be sold at his shop in Fleet: street: at the sign of the Goolden Buck    

To the Reader.  
FRiendly, and generous Reader) I present not Horace to thee, in his native lustre, nor Language. Take these rather (if so thou please) for a reflection, from that brighter body of his living Odes. Behold in them Morality touched, and Virtue heightened, with clearness of Spirit, and accurateness of judgement. These have I selected amongst many, not with desire to prescribe the same choice to others, as a rule; nor yet with any diffidence in my own election. Abundat quisque suo sensu. When in a Garden we gather a Coronet of Flowers, we intent not the total beauty of that fair piece of prospective, but particular ornament, and intermingled delight. These supply both. But many (no doubt) will say, Horace is by me forsaken, his Lyric softness, and emphatical Muse maimed: That in all there is a general defection from his genuine Harmony. Those I must tell, I have in this Translation, rather sought his Spirit, than Numbers; yet the Music of Verse not neglected neither, since the English ear better heareth the Distich, and findeth that sweetness, and air in these proportions, which the Latin affecteth, and (questionless) attaineth in Saphick or jambick measures. Some will urge again, why were not these Wreaths of moral, and serious Odes, for the more variety, and general entertainment of most, mixed with his wanton and loser strains of Poesy? These I answer, and with it conclude. The Translator of these, had rather teach Virtue to the modest, then discover Vice to the dissolute. The streams of Helicon, are clear, and Crystalline. Drink thou goodness from these purer Fountains, whilst such take unhappy draughts, from the troubled and muddy waters of Sensuality.   

Jn Fidelissimum HORATII interpretem T. H. Equitem Auratum.  

ANglia nunc Musis dominatur; Horatius Anglus  
Laetatur; Lyrico victaque Roma suo est;  
Talia, linguarum Dominam mirabere posse  
Dicere; non magis est, haec potuisse, rudem?  
Flaccus mutatur, remanet sed candor in Illo;  
Plumeus, in doctas, concidit imber, aquas;  
Sic tibi gent is honos, nostrae tibi debita linguae  
Gloria; & Angliacae Laurea vitta Comae.   
F. L.   

To the Translator.  

What shall I fi●st commend? your happy choice  
Of this most useful Poet? or your skill,  
To make the Echo equal with the voice,  
And trace the Lines drawn by the Author's quill?  
The Latin Writers by unlearned hands,  
In foreign Robes unwillingly are dressed,  
But thus invited into other Lands,  
Are glad to change their tongue at such request.  
The good, which in our minds their labours breed,  
Lays open to their Fame a larger way.  
These strangers England with rich plenty feed,  
Which with our countries' freedom we repay:  
When sitting in pure Language like a Throne,  
They prove as great with us, as with their own.   
john Beaumond.   

To his worthy Friend, Sr. T. H. Knight, upon his Translation.  

While to thy Time the Lyric Poet sings,  
And takes new graces from thy tuned strings;  
Behold, whole Quires of Muses, ready stand,  
To beg like favour at thy curious hand.  
Who would not join with them, and move the same,  
That sees this One so happy in thy Name?  
We whom the Romans held for dull and weak,  
Now teach their best of Poets how to speak.  
They need not lay to thee, the want of skill,  
Of Music, or of Muses, he that will,  
May hear them both expressed by thee, in veins  
Equal, if not beyond the Roman strains.   
George Fortescue.   

To my Noble Friend, Sir T. H. Knight.  

a O de in pure lymbic feet.  
I Knew before thy dainty tuch,  
Upon the Lordly Viol:  
But of thy Lyre who knew so much  
Before this happy trial?  
So tuned is thy sacred Harp,  
To make her echo sweetly sharp.   

I wot not how to praise enough  
Thy Music and thy Muses:  
Thy Gloss so smooth, the Text so tough,  
Be judge, who both peruses.  
Thy choice of Odes is also chaste,  
No want it hath, it hath no waste.   

A grace it is for any Knight,  
A stately Steed to stable:  
But unto Pegasus the light  
Is any comparable?  
No Courser of so comely Course,  
Was ever as the winged Horse.   

That Astrophill, of Arts the life, 
S. Phi. Sidney.   
A Knight was, and a Poet:  
So was the Man, who took to wife 
S. Geof. Chancer.   
The Daughter of La-Roët.  
So Thou that hast reserved a part,  
To rouse my johnson, and his Arte.   

Receive the while my lowly Verse  
to wait upon thy Muses:  
Who ca●not half thy worth rehearse,  
My brain that height refuses.  
Beveath thy Meede is all my praise;  
That, asks a Crown of holy Bayss.   
Hugh Holland.   

In laudem Authoris. Oda, In quâ Versiones nonnullae ab eodem factae praenotantur.  
QValis Sonoro voluitur alueo  
Veruis Hydaspes imbribus intumens,  
Ripaeque debellator undas  
Per teneras rapit amnis herbas.  
Horatiano talis ab aequore  
Linguae decorus flumine patriae  
Manas, & inspiras amorem  
Cordibus, imperio Camoe●ae.  
Scu cantu avit is Regibus editum 
Moecenae Ataui● etc. jam satis terris, etc.   
H●roa promis: seu violentiùs  
Vndas retorquentem minacis  
Tibridos in dominam Orbis urbem  
Cantas Etrusci littoris aggerem:  
Vitae ipse purus seu canis integ●um; 
Integer vit●, etc. Quis desiderio, etc. Dianam tenerae, etc. O Diua gratum, etc.   
Raptumque non deduci ab Orco  
Quinctilium lacrymis perurges.  
Per te Dianam dicere Virgines  
Novere. Divam, quae regit Antium,  
Eheu! quid vrges in Britannos  
Caesareis comitem ire turmis?  
Nunc quaeris auro quis color abdito. 
Nullus argento, etc. Aequam memento, etc. Non semper imbres, etc. Beatus ilbe, qul, etc. Exegi monumentum, etc.   
Nunc mentis ornas aequanimae fidem.  
Nunc Mystis extincti calores  
Picrijs moderaris undis.  
Tandem beato ruris in otio  
Laudas agentes. His tibi sacula  
Post mille duraturum, & ultra  
Carminibus monum●ntum adornas.  
G. D.   

V. Cl. T. H. Equiti Aurato, Suo.  

ANglica Romani iam prodit Musa leporis  
Aemula, nec caeptis excidit illa suis.  
Quàm sibi Narcisso similis Narcissus in undis,  
Tam similis nostras Flacce Poeta tibi.  
Quàm similis linguae rediviuis vocibus Echo  
Permeat aethereas, Nympha canora, plagas,  
Tam similis Lyricae respondet nostra Camoenae,  
Romanumque melos Anglica plectra movent.  
Romanas tenuit Romanus Horatius aures,  
Nunc Anglas Anglus non tenet ille minùs.  
Nam quod dulce sonat Romanis Appula Musa.  
Hoc resonas Anglis Cantia Musa tuis.   
I. CHAPPERLINUS.   

ODES OF HORACE.  

The First Book.  

Ode. I. To MAECENAS.  
All things please not all men. HORACE most especially affecteth the name of a Lyric Poet.  

Maecenas atavis.  
MAecenas sprung from Grandsire King's descent,  
O, my defence, and sweetest ornament.  
There are, who in their Chariots speedy flight,  
To raise Olimpique dust, do take delight:  
And having with chassed wheels, the goal declined,  
For Conquest's meed, have style of gods assigned.  
This man, if wavering Citizens contend,  
His worth, with threefold hohours to commend:  
That other, if he in his Garnier stores,  
What ever hath been swept from Lybian flores,  
From painful Tillage, and the countries' love,  
The wealth of Attalus can never move,  
That he a Mariner in fear of loss,  
With Cyprian Bark Myrtonan Seas should cross.  
When Southwest winds, Icarian waves do raise,  
The Merchant rest, & Country grange doth praise;  
Strait his torn Vessel, he repairs again,  
The force of want unable to sustain.  
Some others use, old Massique Wines to ply,  
Nor from the day, some part to take deny;  
Now, seeking under Arbutt's shade to cling,  
Now near the soft head of some gentle Spring.  
In Tents, and Trumpets Echo some delight,  
Mixed with the Flute, and Wars that Mothers fright  
In Fields the Hunter on the coldest day,  
Forgetful of his tender Wife, doth stay:  
Wither his faithful dogs, have viewed the Hind,  
Or, Marsyan Boar his round nets have untwined.  
Me, Iuy the reward, for Learned brows.  
A place, among supernal gods allows  
Light qui●es of Wood Nymphs, that with Satyrs bide,  
And shady groves from Vulgar me divide:  
So that my Pipe Eu●erpe not restrain,  
Nor Polyhimne to tune my Lute refrain.  
But if you me, 'mongst Lyrics will account,  
My raised Crest above the Stars shall mount.    

Ode II. To AUGUSTUS CAESAR.  
Many storms are poured upon the People of Rome in revenge of julius Caesar slain. The only hope of the Empire is placed in the safety of Augustus.  

jam satis terris.  
jove, now on Earth, sufficient,  
Of Snow, and direful Hail hath sent;  
Who shaking Towers, with fiery hand,  
Affrighted made the City stand:  
He Nations scared, left Pirrah's Reign  
New Monsters should produce again;  
As erst when Pro●eus drove his Flock,  
To feed on Cliff of steepy Rock,  
Then to the Elme's Tope Fishes clavae,  
Which Turtles used for seat to have  
And Does, whom sudden frights disease,  
Swum boldly over swelling Seas.  
Our eyes have yellow Tiber's Flood  
Beheld, by Tyrrhen Shores withstood  
With violence; run down to beat,  
The Tombs of Kings, and Vesta's seat.  
While Ilia much to him complains,  
He vows revenge: Though jove disdains,  
His wand'ring, and uxorious wave,  
Upon the City bank, should rave.  
Succeeding Youth, through Parent's crimes,  
Impaired, shall hear that passed times,  
Have sharp'ned swords; shall hear of bralls,  
Wherewith the Persian better falls.  
To which god, shall we Vows assign,  
Now, that our State affairs decline?  
What prayer shall holy Virgin Saints,  
To Vèsta yield, made dease to plaints?  
To whom shall jove, the power dispense,  
Of expiating Sins offence?  
(Divining Phoebus) come we pray,  
Whose shoulders white the Clouds array.  
Or, if thou please (smooth Venus) hy  
About whom Sport and Pleasures fly.  
Or founder Mars, if Stock, or Kin,  
Thou Love, which have neglected been.  
O, thou that cloyed art with fight,  
Whom clamour, and smooth Helms delight:  
And Mauritanian's visage bold,  
When his stern Foe, he doth behold.  
Or, mayst thou (gentle Maia's Son)  
With winged speed be hither won.  
Augustus' figure, changed in thee,  
Caesar's revengeful friend to be.  
Oh, mayst thou (late) to heaven retire;  
Be present long, to Rome's desire:  
Nor may the speedy blast of Time,  
Take thee offended with our Crime.  
Hear Triumphs seek, and lasting fame,  
Instilled with Prince, and Father's name;  
Nor suffer Caesar (thou our Guide)  
The Medians unrevenged to ride.    

Ode XXII. To ARISTIUS.  
Integrity of life is every where safe, which he proveth, by his own example.  

Integer Vitae.  
Fuscus') the man whose life's entire,  
And free from sin, needs not desire;  
The Bow, nor Dart from Moor to borrow,  
Nor from full Quiver poisoned A-row:  
Wither o'er Libya's parched Sands,  
Or Caucasus, that houselesse stands,  
He taketh his journey; or those places,  
By which the famed Hydaspes' traces.  
For I, while, in the Sabine Grove,  
My Lalage do chanting rove,  
From me not marking limits dew,  
A Wolf (though I unarmed) slew.  
A Monster such, as all exceeds,  
Which in large woods fierce Daunia feeds:  
Or those, which Iuba's Kingdom hath,  
The Desert nurse of Lion's wroth.  
Place me in coldest Champains, where,  
No Summer warmth, the Trees doth cheer:  
Let me in that dull Climate rest,  
Which Clouds, and sullen jove infest:  
Yea place me underneath the Car  
Of too-neere Phoebus: seated fare  
From dwellings. Lalage, I'll love,  
Whose smiles, whose words so sweetly move.    

Ode XXIV. To VIRGIL.  
Who immoderately bemoaned the death of Quintilius.  

Quis desiderio sit.  
MElpomene) on whom great jupiter  
Did shrillest voice to tuneful Harp confer:  
Declare in mournful Notes; what shame, or let  
Should on the love of such a friend beset.  
Shall then Quintilius sleep eternally?  
An equal unto whom, pure Modesty  
And justice Sister, Faith sincere and plain,  
And naked Verity, shall never gain?  
Of many worthy men bemoaned he fell:  
But (Virgil) no man's grief can thine excel.  
Thou (loving) dost (alas) the gods in vain  
Quintil us, not so lent thee, ask again.  
What if more sweet, than Thracian Orphens' wire,  
You Trees persuade, to hearken to your Lyre;  
Yet can you not, return of Life command,  
To shadow vain; which once with dreadful wand,  
God Mercury, unwilling Fate t'unlock,  
Hath forced to dwell among the Stygian flock.  
'tis hard I grant." But Patience makes that light,  
Which to correct, or change, exceeds our might.    

Ode XXVIII.  
Architas, a Philosopher and Geometrician is presented, answering to a certain Mariner, that all men must dye, and entreating him, that he would not suffer his body to lie on the shore unburied.  

Te Maris, & Terrae.  
THee, who the Sea, Earth, Sands, that none can tell  
To bond with measure, knewest (Architas) well.  
The poor gift of a little dust confiries,  
And near unto the Matine shore enshrines:  
Nor could it any help, or profit be,  
Death being ready still to call for thee;  
Those ay'rie mansions to inquire from hence,  
And search in mind the Heaven's circumference.  
The Sire of Pelops, who with Gods did feast,  
And aged Tithon, shrunk at Death's arrest:  
And Minos, to Ioues Counsels called, was slain,  
And Panthois died, let out of Hell again,  
Though he with Shield affixed, proving well  
That his first Birth in Trojan ages fell,  
Affirmed, that death nought killed, but nerves, & skin:  
(No man in Nature's power was better seen:)  
But we into oneself same night do fall,  
And must the paths of Death tread once for all.  
The Furies, some to games of Mars apply  
The greedy Sailor, drenched in Seas doth lie.  
In death both young and old by heaps do join;  
Nor any head escapes sad Proserpina.  
Yea, the Southwind, crooked Orion's mate,  
O'er whelmed me in Illyrian waves of late:  
But be thou pleased (gentle Mariner,)  
MY bones, and head, in lose sand to inter.  
Which done (so thou be safe) may th' Eastern wind,  
That moves Hesperian billows be assigned,  
To bluster loudly in Venusium woods:  
And may on every side, thy trafficked goods,  
In plenty flow to thee, from Jove's just hand,  
And Neptune, who Tarentum doth command:  
But if to frustrate me thou be not nice,  
Which may thy guiltless issue prejudice;  
I wish due punishment, and proud neglect,  
May on thy Funeral Obscquys reflect:  
Nor may my Prayers be poured forth in vain,  
Nor vows have strength to set thee free again.  
Yet if thou hast, no longer stay I crave,  
Then, thrice the dust be thrown upon my grave.    

Ode XXXI. To APOLLO.  
He desireth not riches of Apollo, but that he may have a sound mind in a healthy body.  

Quid dedicatum poscit.  
WHat doth thy Poet ask Phoebus' divine?)  
What craves he, when he pours thee bowls of wine?  
Not the rich corn of fat Sardinia,  
Nor grateful flocks of  Calabria,  
Nor Gold, nor Indian ivory; nor the grounds,  
Which silent Lyris, with soft stream arrounds:  
Let those whom Fortune so much store assigns,  
Dress with Calenian hook, their fertile Vines:  
Let the rich Merchant to the Gods so dear,  
(For so I term him right, who every year  
Three, or four times, visits th' Atlantic Seas,  
From shipwreck free:) Let him his palate please,  
And drink in gilt bowls, wines of highest price,  
Bought with the sale of Syrian Merchandise.  
Lose Mallows, Succory, and Olive plant  
Serve me for food. O (great Apollo) grant,  
To me in health, and free from life's annoy,  
Things native, and soon gotten to enjoy;  
And with a mind composed old age attain,  
Not loathsome, nor deprived of Lyric strain.    

Ode XXXIV. To HIMSELF.  
Who repenteth, that having followed the Epicurean Sect, he thereby hath negligently honoured the gods.  

Parcus Deorum cultor.  
I, Of the gods a tardy worshipper,  
Whilst (skilled) in frantic wisdom I do err,  
Now backward forced am my sails to raise,  
And to seek out again forsaken ways.  
For jupiter, who light to day inspires,  
Dividing sable clouds, with shining fires,  
Hath through the clear sky oft ordained his drift,  
With thunder breathing horse and chariot swift,  
Wherewith d●ll earth, and wand'ring rivers quake,  
The Stygian Fen, and horrid Seat doth shake  
Of hateful Taenarus, and Atlas' bounds.  
" God, in exchange, the high with low confounds:  
" He abject baseness on the highest flings,  
" And casteth lustre on obscured things.  
Hence restless Fortune, height from one man takes,  
With shrillest noise, and great another makes.    

Ode XXXV. To FORTUNE.  
He beseecheth her, that she would preserve Caesar going into Britain.  

O diva gratum.  
O Goddess, which beloved Antium sways,  
Still ready with thy powerful arm to raise,  
Men from the low degree of wretched thralls,  
Or turn proud triumphs into funerals.  
The poor, and rustic Clown, with humble plea  
Solicits thee: Thee Lady of the Sea,  
He loudly invocates; who e'er doth sweep  
In Asian vessel the Carpathian deep.  
The Dacian rough, the wand'ring Scythian,  
Cities, and Kingdoms; The fierce Latian;  
Thee Mothers of Barbarian Kings do fear,  
And Tyrants, which bright purple garments wear.  
Let not a standing pillar be or'ethrowne  
With thy offended foot; nor be it known,  
That people apt for arms, yet now at rest,  
Take arms again, and Empire's peace infest.  
Thee sharp Necessity, doth still forego,  
Holding in brazen hand, as pledge of woe,  
Tormenting beams, and racks: and more to daunt,  
Sharp hooks, and molten lead do never want.  
Thee Hope, and simple Faith in white attire,  
Doth honour, and thy company desire,  
How e'er another habit thou dost take,  
And made a foe, great houses thou forsake.  
But the false multitude, and perjured whore  
Doth back retire; yea friends when vessels store,  
Is to the dregges drunk up; Away they fly,  
Shunning the yoke of mutual poverty.  
Preserve thou Caesar safe, we thee implore,  
Bound to the world's remotest Briton shore,  
And the late raised troops of youth most able,  
To Eastern parts, and red Sea formidable.  
We at our scars do blush, Sin, Brother's fall.  
(Vile Age) what mischiefs do we shun at all?  
What youth, his hand, for fear of gods contains?  
Or who himself from Altars spoil restrains?  
Ah wouldst thou now our blunted swords new frame  
Th' Arabians, and the Massagetes to tame.     
The end of the first Book.   

ODES OF HORACE.  

The Second Book.  

Ode. II. To C. SALUSTIUS CRISPUS.  
He praiseth Proculeius for liberality towards his brothers. Only contempt of money maketh a man happy.  

Nullus Argento colour.  
NO colour is in Golden vain,  
(Oh Sallust, enemy of gain)  
Hidden within a greedy Mine,  
Unless with temperate use it shine.  
Never shall Proculeius die,  
'Mongst Brothers marked for piety:  
Suruiving Fame with daring flight,  
Shall yield his Name eternal right.  
In larger circuit thou dost reign,  
If greedy humour thou restrain.  
Then if thou Gades to Lybia join,  
Or both the Carthages were thine.  
The selfe-indulgent Dropsy grows,  
Nor doth the palate's thirst unlose,  
Till man from veins, the sickness cause,  
And pallid watery faintness draws.  
Virtue, that vulgar doth oppose,  
Not in the rank of happy, chose  
Phraat with Cyrus' throne indu'de.  
And doth forbid the multitude  
False acclamations to make;  
And rule, and Sceptre safe partake,  
And Bays to him alone apply,  
Who views huge heaps with careless eye.    

Ode III. To DELIUS.  
Prosperous, and adverse Fortune are to be moderately borne, since one, and the self same condition of death, hangeth over every man.  

Aequam memento.  
IN adverse chance, an equal mind retain,  
As in best fortunes tempered, free from vain  
Of mirth profuse: For (Delius) thou must die,  
Wither in sadness, thou dost ever lie;  
Or, on Feast days retired to grassy shade,  
Thou with close Falerne wine art happy made:  
Where the white Poplar, and the lofty Pine,  
Their friendly shade in mutual branches twine:  
And Rivers swiftly gliding strive, apace  
'Bout crooked banks, their trembling streams to chase.  
Bring hither Wine, and odorous Unguents. Bring  
The dainty Rose, a fair, but fading thing.  
While Fortune, age, and wealth yield seasons fit.  
And the three Sisters sable looms permit:  
Thou from thy house must part, & purchased woods,  
And village laved, with yellow Tiber's floods.  
And thy high hoarded heaps of wealth's excess,  
An Heir (perhaps) ungrateful shall possess.  
No matter 'tis, whither thou rich art borne,  
Of Argine Kings; or low, exposed to scorn,  
Sprung from poor Parents, livest in open fields;  
Thou art Death's sacrifice, (who never yields.)  
We all are thither brought, 'tis he that turns,  
And winds our mortal life's uncertain Urns.  
Sooner or later each man hath his lot,  
And exiled hence, embarks in Charon's Boat.    

Ode IX. To VALGIUS.  
That now at length he would desist, to deplore his deceased Mist.  

Non semper imbres.  
THe swelling cloud, not always powers,  
On rugged fields impetuous showers.  
Nor Caspian Sea (Valgius beloved)  
With tossing storms, is ever moved.  
Nor on Armenia's bordering shore,  
The sluggish ice stands always door:  
Or Ga●gan groves, with North-winds rived,  
Or Ash trees are of leaves deprived.  
You still in mournful sort complain  
That death, hath dearest Mist slain.  
Your love not fails, if Vesper rise,  
Nor when bright Hesper, Phoebus flies.  
But thrice-aged Nestor, mourned not still,  
That death An●ilochus did kill:  
Nor Parents, nor sad Sisters, ever  
To wail young Troilus persever.  
Cease then at length, thy soft complaint;  
And in our Songs, now, let us paint,  
Great Caesar's Trophies, and command,  
And how conjoined to conquered land,  
The Median stream, and Nyphate strong,  
Do in less Channels, run along;  
And Gelon's to less limits tied,  
In fare more aightned fields do ride.    

Ode X. To LICINIUS.  
Mediocrity to be used in either Fortunes.  

Rectius vives Licini.  
YOur safer course (Licinius) count,  
Not always on the Main to mount:  
Not whilst you (wisely) storms abhor,  
Too much to trust the shelfie shore.  
He that affects the golden means,  
Life's safe from Cottages unclean,  
And (sober) doth as much despise,  
In Envy breeding Courts to rise.  
The blustering winds more often fare,  
'Gainst lofty Pinès, do threaten war:  
Brave Towers with greater ruin fall,  
And Thunders highest hills enthrall,  
Each Fortune, minds prepared doth glad,  
They fear in good, and hope in bad.  
jove brings in horrid Winter's rage,  
And suddenly doth it assuage.  
If with thee now, it be but ill,  
Think that it cannot be so still.  
Sometimes Apollo's silent Muse,  
Speaks in his Harp; nor doth he use,  
Always to bend his angry Bow;  
In crosses strength, and courage show.  
And let your sails with prosperous wind  
Too much advanced, be declined.    

Ode XI. To QVINTUS HIRPINUS.  
Cares laid aside, let us live merrily.  

Quid bellicosus Cantaber.  
What the Cantabrian stout, or Scythian think,  
Divided with opposed Adria's brink,  
(Quintus Hirpinus) do not thou inquire,  
Nor for life's use, which little doth desire,  
Be thou too careful. Smooth-faced youth, apace  
Doth backward fly, and with it beauties grace.  
Dry aged hoariness with furrows deep,  
Dispelling amorous fires, and gentle sleep.  
The Summer flowers keep not their native grace,  
Nor shines the bright Moon, with a constant face.  
Why dost thou tire thy mind, subordinate  
Unto the Counsels of Eternal Fate?  
Why under this high Plane, or Pine trees shade  
In discomposed manner, careless laid,  
Our hoary hair perfumed with fragrant Rose,  
And odours, which Assyria doth disclose.  
Do we (anointed) not to drink prepare?  
Free Bacchus dissipates consuming care.  
But (oh) what Boy, Falernian wines hot rage,  
Will soon for me, with gliding streams assuage?  
(Ah) who retired Lyde will require,  
Hither to come. Boy with her ivory Lyre,  
Bid her make haste, and hair to tie not shame,  
In careless knot, like a Laconian Dame.    

Ode XIV. To POSTHUMUS.  
Life is short, and Death is necessary.  

Eheu fugaces Posthume.  
AH Posthumus, swift years do pass,  
Nor can religious zeal (alas)  
To wrinkles, or decrepit days,  
Or Death untamed bring delays:  
Not, if thou to harsh Plutoe's shrine  
Each day three hundred Bulls assign:  
Who Geryon, and Tytius bound,  
With sable River, doth surround.  
A stream on which each man must sail,  
From royal Sceptre to the flail.  
We bloody Mars decline in vain,  
Or broken waves of Adrian main:  
And (needless) fear in Autumn rife,  
The South-wind's hurtful to our life.  
Wand'ring Cocytus Flood, with slow  
And heavy Current, thou must know.  
And Danâus infamous train,  
And Sisyphus with endless pain.  
Thou House, Land, lovely Wife must want,  
Nor of the Trees, which thou dost plant,  
(Thou dead) will any wait on thee,  
But the despised Cypress tree.  
Thy worthier Heir, drinks precious wine,  
Which thou with hundred keys didst shrine;  
And with it the rich pavement dews;  
None such the high Priests Banquet shows.    

Ode. XV.  
Against the excess of that Age.  

jam pauca aratro.  
Magnific buildings will leave shortly, now,  
Few Acres of firm land, unto the Plough;  
Now many are beheld huge Pools to make  
Of much more wide extent, than Lucrine Lake.  
The solitary Plane, the Elm supplants,  
And now no sort of odorous flowers wants,  
As Roses, Violets, and Venus-Mirtle,  
Where th'olive grew, to former Lords so fertile.  
The Laurel now, to Phoebus' piercing eye,  
Through his thick branches passage doth deny.  
No such Prescript, did R●mulus exact,  
Nor Elders, nor rough Cato did enact.  
Private Revenues, then, were short, and low,  
And each man sought to make the public flow.  
Proud Galleries no private man, then made,  
Of ten foot wide, to let in Northern shade.  
Nor did our Laws, then, suffer us disdain,  
A casual Turf, for Pillow to retain;  
Commanding towns to build, at public charge,  
And the gods Temples, with new stone enlarge.    

Ode XVI. TO GROSPHUS.  
All men desire tranquillity of mind, which can neither with Riches, nor Honours be acquired, but only with bridleling our Appetites.  

Otium Divos rogat.  
Soon as black clouds have hid the Moon's bright eye,  
And Pilots cannot best known Stars espy,  
The Mariner tossed in Aegean Sea,  
Strait to the gods for rest makes humble plea.  
The Thracians fierce in war do ease require,  
And Quiver-bearing Medes repose desire,  
Repose, which not with gems, purple, or gold,  
(Believe me Grosphus) will be bought, or sold.  
No Wealth, nor Consul's Lictors that make way,  
Can from the Heart disturbed tumults fray,  
Nor cares which round about gilt roofs do fly.  
He with a little liveth happily,  
Who having on his homely Table placed,  
His Father's Cup, and Salt kept vndefaced,  
So life's, that fear, nor sordid lucre keep  
His waking eyes from soft, and gentle sleep.  
Why do we (boldly) many things propose  
In ●●ort lived age, which Time doth quickly close?  
Why lands with other Son inflamed change?  
Who from himself, though far from home can range?  
Strong Ships are boarded by consuming Care:  
Nor doth she bravest troops of Horsemen spare:  
More swift she is, than the light footed Hind,  
Or tempeft-raising storms of Eastern wind.  
The mind in present cheerful, hates to care  
For what beyond it lies; And doth prepare  
To temper bitter things with laughter free:  
" Nothing in all respects can happy be.  
Death quickly snatched brave Achilles hence,  
Nor did with Tython's long lived age dispense:  
And that (perhaps) of time I may obtain,  
Which thy expecting hopes shall never gain.  
You many fertile flocks of sheep command,  
Siciliax Kine about you lowing stand.  
Your Mares for Chariot fit, are heard from fare,  
Loudly to neigh: Nor garments wanting are,  
Of Purple cloth, dipped twice in Africa Die;  
While a poor state, by upright destiny,  
To me is given; mixed with a slender name,  
Of Greekish Muse, and scorn of vulgar Fame.    

Ode XVII. TO MAECENAS being sick.  
Whom he resolveth not to survive.  

Cur Me querelis.  
WHy kill you me with your laments?  
It neither gods, nor me contents,  
Macenas (first) should yield to Fate,  
The Grace, and Pillar of my State.  
But if a speedier stroke of death,  
Rob thee (my soul's best part) of breath?  
Why stay I in the other, Sole,  
Not pleasing to my Self, nor whole?  
One day shall see us perish both:  
I have not sworn an idle oath.  
Go, when you please, I will not stay,  
But be your partner in the way.  
Chimaeras spirit breathing fire,  
Nor hundred-handed Gyas, Ire;  
Shall this my fixed vow abate;  
Thus justice hath it pleased, and Fate.  
Though Libra in his full aspect,  
And feared- Scorpius, direct,  
My Horoscope with rage infest,  
Or, Capricorn, that rules the West;  
Our Constellations both agree  
In admirable sort. And thee  
love's radiant lustre, hath exempt,  
From Saturn's Beam malevolent,  
And slacked the wings of speedy death,  
What time the people with loud breath,  
Thrice in the Theatre did sound  
That gladsome newe●: Even than a wound,  
By a trees fall, my skull had broke.  
But Wood-god Faunus, from the stroke,  
Me than did happily assist,  
(Patron of each Mercurialist.)  
Then pay thy vows, thy Temple build,  
And I a tender Lamb will yield.    

Ode XVIII.  
He affirmeth himself content with little, while others are wholly addicted to their desires, and increase of riches, as if they should always line.  

Non ebur, neque aureum.  
No guilded roof, nor ivory fret,  
For splendour in my house is set;  
Nor beams are from Hymettia sought,  
To lie athwart rich Columns, brought  
From Africa; nor an heir unknown.  
Altalus wealth, make I mine own.  
No honest Clients wives you see,  
Laconian Purples wove for me:  
A loyal heart, and gentle vain,  
Of wit I have; which doth constrain  
Rome's richest men, to seek the love,  
Of me but poor: Nor gods above,  
Do I invoke for larger store;  
Nor of Macenas ask I more.  
To me, my only Sabine field,  
Sufficient happiness doth yield.  
" One day thrust's on another fast,  
And new Moons to the Wane do haste.  
When death (perhaps) is near at hand,  
Thou fairest Marbles dost command  
Be cut for use, yet dost neglect  
Thy grave, and houses still erect,  
And wouldst abridge, the vast Sea's shore,  
Which loudly doth at Baia roar:  
Enriched little, less content,  
With limits of the Continent.  
Why often pull you up your bounds,  
T'enlarge the Circuit of your grounds,  
And greedily your list extend  
Beyond your neighbour straightly penn'd●  
Both man, and wife with sordid brood,  
And ancient household gods, that stood  
In quiet peace, must be expelled;  
Yet is no habitation, held,  
For the rich Landlord, so assured,  
As in deep Hell to be immured.  
Then whither do you further tend?  
Th'indifferent Earth, an equal friend,  
As willingly opens her womb,  
For Beggar's grave, as Prince's Tomb.  
Gold could of Charon not obtain,  
To bear Prometheus back again.  
Proud Tantalus, and all his stock,  
He, in the bands of Fate did lock.  
And called, or not called still is pressed,  
To give the labouring poor man, Rest.     
The end of the second Book.   

ODES OF HORACE.  

The Third Book.  

Ode I.  
Life is made happy, not with Riches, but Mind's Tranquillity.  

Odi profanum vulgus.  
I Hate, and from me do exclude,  
The most illiterate Multitude.  
You knowing Spirits, favour bring  
To me the Muse's Priest, who sing  
To Boys, and spotless Virgins, Verse  
Which none did ever yet rehearse.  
King's awful, their own Subjects sway,  
And Kings themselves do love obey:  
Who famous for the Giant's fall,  
With brow austere doth manage all.  
Say one, more large in furrows plant  
Trees, which another man doth want.  
What though one boast a nobler strain,  
Affected honours to attain:  
One better life, and Fame pretends,  
Another hath more troops of friends:  
With equal Law, ne'er failing death,  
The rich, and poor deprives of breath:  
Casting that name, from forth his Urn,  
Which next by lot to death must turn.  
To him, who o'er his wicked head,  
A drawn sword sees in twine of thread,  
Sicilian Feasts, with dainties graced,  
Procure not Palate-pleasing taste;  
No chant of Birds, nor charm of Lyre,  
Can to his eyes, soft sleep inspire:  
Delicious Sleep, no whit disdains,  
The homely Cottages of Swains:  
Nor shady banks, nor Tempe grove,  
Where Zephyrus doth gently rove.  
He who desires, but what's enough,  
Fears not the Ocean billows rough:  
Nor stern Arcturus force, that sets,  
Nor rising Kid, who storms begets:  
His Vines, nor ruined are with hail,  
Nor do his crops in Harvest fail:  
His fields, now blaming water-falls,  
Now parching Stars, now Winter-thralls.  
Yea Fishes feel the Seas grown strait,  
With Bulwarks raised, of wondrous weight:  
Hear the Surveyor, with his train,  
And Lord himself, filled with disdain;  
Of his firm Land's too narrow ring,  
Building materials frequent bring:  
But angry threats, and restless Fear,  
Go with their Master every where.  
Black Care, in ship, with him abides,  
And sits behind him, when he rides.  
But if, nor Phrygian Columns, can,  
Nor use of Purples brighter, than  
Heaven's Lights, disturbed minds content,  
Nor Falerne Vine, nor Persian Sent.  
Why Pillars proud, should I erect,  
Or Gallery of new Architect?  
Why should I Sabine's Country Grange,  
For much more busy wealth exchange?    

Ode II. To his FRIENDS.  
Boys are to be enured from their tender age, to poverty, warfare, and painful Life.  

Angustam amici.  
LEt able Youth, itself enure,  
By wars sharp use, want to endure.  
And mounted on his Horse, with Spear,  
No whit bold Parthians valour fear:  
Let him exposed to open air,  
Live, and attempt, the hardest affair.  
Whom wife of Tyrant, used to war,  
Viewing, from hostile walls afar;  
And Maid for marriage ripe may cry,  
With sighs, which from sad passion fly.  
Oh, that my royal Love, untrained  
In martial feats, would be restrained,  
Not to fierce Combats fatal stroke,  
That wrathful Lion to provoke,  
Whom bloody angers direful rage,  
In thickest slaughters doth engage.  
" It is a sweet, and noble gain,  
" In Country's quarrel to be slain.  
Death, the swift flying man pursues  
With ready steps: Nor doth he use,  
To spare, from unavoided wrack,  
Youth's supple hams, or fearful back.  
Virtue disdaining base neglect,  
Doth shine with taintless honours decked:  
Nor takes, or leaves she honour's choice,  
To please the people's ay'ry voice.  
Virtue, unlocking Heaven to praise,  
Doth dauntless try, denied ways.  
Vulgar assemblies doth despise,  
And leaving Earth, to Heaven flies.  
Yea, trusty Silence is not barred,  
To have a merited reward.  
He, who to blab the holy Rites,  
Of secret Ceres' Fane delights,  
Under the same roof shall not be,  
Nor in frail Vessel sail with me.  
" jove oft neglected, makes the Just  
" To smart with those are stained with lust;  
" Seldom Revenge, with halting pace,  
Leaves bad foregoing men to trace.    

Ode. III.  
A man with virtue adorned, feareth nothing. Juno's Oration of Troye's overthrow, and the end of that war. And how the Roman Empire shall take beginning from the Troyans'.  

justum & tenacem.  
HEe, that is just, and of resolved mind,  
No voice of Citizens to bad inclined,  
Nor angry brow of hasty Tyrant's threat,  
Can shake his solid thoughts from virtue's seat.  
Not the South wind, which doth rough Adria stir,  
Nor potent hand of thundering jupiter;  
Yea, should the world dissolved perish quite,  
The so ●aine ruins would him not affright.  
With this same Art, the wand'ring Hercules,  
And Pollux, did the fiery Turrets seize.  
Twixt whom Augustus placed, with rosy lips  
Nectar, the Gods eternal liquor, sips.  
With this god Bacchus, high his worth did rear,  
By Tigers drawn, untaught the yoke to bear.  
With this Art Romulus on Mars his Steeds,  
Leaves Acheron, and to Heaven's glory speeds.  
What time the gods consulting. juno said  
In grateful accents this; Troy, Troy, betrayed,  
A fatal, and incestuous judge hath burned,  
And a strange woman unto Ashes turned.  
Even from that time, that Priam's wayward Sire,  
Bereft the righteous gods their promised hire,  
Which Troy by me, and Pallas once contemned,  
With Prince and people, were to flames condemned.  
Now the known guest, of that adulterous Dame  
Which fled from Greece, no more shall merit fame;  
And Priam's perjured stock, with Hector's aid,  
No more shall make the warlike Greeks' dismayed.  
The fatal wars, which our seditions fed,  
Are now composed, and angry storms are dead.  
Henceforth to Mars my fury will I leave,  
And Vesta's offspring unto grace receive:  
Him I to Heaven's bright mansions will admit,  
To drink of Nectar, and with gods to sit:  
While the vast Sea, 'twixt Troy, and Rome is found,  
Reign happy banished men on any ground:  
Whilst herds o'er Priam's tomb, and Paris stray,  
And beasts preserve their young from hunters pray,  
Let the bright Capitol its glory spread,  
And Rome give Laws unto the conquered Mead.  
Yea let her, her far-dreaded name extend,  
And with the Earth's remotest confines end:  
Where the Mid-stream, Europe from Africa bounds,  
Or swelling Nilus, watreth fertile grounds.  
Rome abler fare, to scorn gold, yet unfound,  
(Which best is placed, when deepest under ground,)  
Then to extract it thence for humane use,  
Each hand things sacred foiling with abuse.  
What limit of the world, so  contend,  
Let thither Rome, her arms victorious send.  
Glad to behold, where the  Zones do stand,  
Or cloudy Poles, which showry dews command.  
But to the most unvanquished Roman State,  
On this condition I prescribe this Fate,  
Lest they, too pious, and indulgent yield,  
The ruin'd walls of ancient Troy to build.  
Yet if that Fortune by unhappy chance,  
Should once again decayed Troy advance,  
I Wife, and Sister of love, Heaven's King,  
With armed troops, would new destruction bring.  
If thrice a Brazen wall, by Phoebus' hand  
Should reared be, it thrice by my command,  
The Greeks should raze, and thrice the captive wife  
Her child, and husband mourn, deprived of life.  
But these things nothing fit, my sportive Lyre;  
Muse whither go'st thou? Ah! do not aspire,  
The god's discourse, thus boldly to relate,  
Or great things with low Lays extenuate.    

Ode VI To The ROMANS.  
Of the corrupt manners of that Age.  

Delicta maiorum.  
(Roman) resolve, thou shalt desertless taste,  
sin's scourge, for vice of Predecessor past,  
Until thou dost again, repair  
Decayed Temples, and make fair,  
The falling houses of the gods, disgraced,  
And cleanse their Images, with smoke defaced.  
To think thee less than Gods, thy power commends;  
Hence take beginnings, hither aim thy ends.  
The Gods neglected, did impose  
On sad Hesperia many woes.  
Twice Pacorus, and twice Monaeses hand,  
Our inauspicious forces did disband:  
Who with a plenteous prey made glad,  
To little chains new links did add.  
The Dacian, and the Aethiop fierce in wars,  
Hath almost razed the City, rend with jars.  
One with his Navy formidable,  
With Darts, the other better able.  
This Age in Vice abounding, did begin,  
 Stocks, and Nuptials to pollute with sin:  
The woes which from this fountain flow,  
People, and Country overthrew.  
The Maid for Marriage ripe, much joys to learn,  
jonick Dances, and can well discern,  
With art to feign, and quickly prove,  
The pleasures of unlawful love.  
Strait made a wife in midst of husband's cups,  
She with young Gallants, and adulterers sups.  
Nor doth she care, to whom by stealth,  
(Light's out) she yield loves lawless wealth.  
But asked, doth rise, (her knowing husband by)  
To prostitute her Marriage modesty:  
At Factors call, or Pilot's hire,  
Of lustful shame, a costly buyer.  
That youth came not, from such Forefathers strain,  
Who did the Sea with Punic blood distain.  
By such hands, Pyrrhus did not fall.  
Antiochus, nor Hannibal.  
But in those days, a brave and manly race  
Of rustic Soldiers lived in this place,  
Well skilled in Plough, and Sabine spade,  
And so to strict obedience made.  
That if sharp mother's bad, at home return,  
They on their shoulders brought logs newed to burn:  
Soon, as the Sun, did change the mountain's shade.  
And weary vnyoaked Oxen homeward made,  
Night gave their labours free dispense,  
Chase the Sun's bright Chariot hence.  
" What wasteth not with Times devouring rage?  
" Our Father's life, much worse the Grandsire's age,  
" Sees us more wicked, to produce  
" An of spring fuller of abuse.    

Ode IX. To LYDIA.  
A Dialogue of his passed Loves, and renewing of them again.  
This Ode, though less moral than the rest, I have admitted, for jul. Scaliger's sake, who much admireth it.  

Donec gratus eram.  

Horace.  
WHilst I was pleasing in thy eye,  
Nor any to thy heart more nigh,  
Clasped, that white neck in amorous Ring,  
More blessed I lived, than Persia's King.   

Lydia.  
Whilst you no other Fire embraced,  
Nor Chlone before Lydia placed.  
I Lydia then with honour signed,  
More than the Roman Illia shined.   

Horace.  
Now Thracian Chlone I obey,  
Skilful, and prompt in music's lay:  
For whom I will not fear to die,  
So Fate to her the same deny.   

Lydia.  
Calais Ornithus son doth fire  
My heart with flames of like desire.  
For whom I twice to die, will dare  
So Fates, the youth surviving spare.   

Horace.  
But what if ancient Love return,  
And us with mutual passion burn;  
If I shake off bright Chlôe's hope,  
And doors to scorned Lydia open?   

Lydia.  
Though he be brighter than a Star,  
And lighter thou, than Cork by fare.  
More angry, then rough Adria; I  
With thee would live, with thee would die.     

Ode XIV. To the ROMAN PEOPLE.  
This Ode containeth the praises of Augustus returning out of Spain, after his Conquest over the Cantabrians.  

Herculis ritu.  
AS Hercules, sometime was thought  
Bays with life's hazard to have sought;  
So Caesar now, to us restores,  
Our household gods from Spanish shores.  
The wife that's with one husband pleased,  
Let her come forth, the gods appeased.  
Octavia Caesar's Sister, haste,  
And Head with humble veil embraced,  
Now Mothers with your Virgins dear,  
And sons (late) safe returned, appear.  
Now Boys, and you new married train  
Of wives, from evil words abstain.  
From me this new made Holiday,  
Black sullen cares, shall take away.  
Nor fear I in great Caesar's reign,  
By force, or tumult to be slain.  
(Boy) Crowns, and Unguents now prepare,  
And vessel kept, since Marsian war:  
If any such concealed hath been,  
By wand'ring Spartacus not seen.  
Let shrill Neaera here be found,  
With golden hair in tresses bound.  
But if the Porter, make delay  
With churlish answer; Hast away.  
White hairs do mollify my mind,  
To brawls, and quarrels erst inclined.  
This in Youth's heat, I could not brook,  
When Consul Plancus, Office took.    

Ode XVI. To MAECENAS.  
All things lie open to Gold, but Horace is content with his own Fortune, whereby bee is made happy.  

Inclusam Danäen.  
Doors strongly fenced, and a Brazen Tower,  
With careful Guard of waking dogs had power  
Fair Dana● in stony walls immured,  
From night-Adulterers to have secured:  
Did not both love and Venus then deride  
Acrisius, who the Maid with fear did hide.  
For they the way knew free, and safe the hold,  
Were but the god once turned into gold.  
Gold abler, armed troops to pass, than thunder,  
The strongest Fortresses doth rend asunder.  
The Argive Angur's house, with all his State,  
Desire of gain did wholly ruinated.  
With gifts the Macedonian did subdue,  
Strong City gates, and proud Kings overthrew.  
Seamen are snared with gifts, and golden store;  
" Care, growing wealth pursues with thirst of more.  
Then (dear Maecenas) well may I detest,  
To vaunt myself with elevated crest.  
" How much the more, man doth himself deny,  
" So much the more, the gods will him supply.  
I poor in state, seek those that nought desire,  
And, flying, do from rich men's tents retire,  
And better live, Lord of a slender store,  
Then, were I said to hold upon my flore,  
What the Apulian painfully hath tilled,  
And in great wealth be poor, and never filled.  
My stream of waters pure, my little Copps;  
My certain hope of happy fruitful crops,  
From him his hidden in my better chance,  
Who Empire in rich Africa doth advance.  
Though me Portuguese Bees, no Honey give,  
Nor wines in Laestrigonian Flagons, live  
Till age make good the taste, though no man knows  
That my rich fleece in fertile Gallia grows.  
Yet from me, craving poverty doth fly;  
Nor should I ask you more, will you deny.  
I, better will with limited desire,  
Pay Caesar little tributes, then aspire  
By greatness, to unite the Phrygian plain,  
To Alliatts ample state, and royal reign.  
" Who much desire, want much: He richly life's  
" Whom God, with sparing hand sufficient gives.    

Ode XXIV.  
Against covetous rich men.  

Intactis opulentior.  
ALthough you richer be by fare,  
Then th' Arabs Mines untouched, or Indies are:  
Though you with deep piles, land would gain,  
Even from the Tyrrhene, and large Pontic Main.  
If, on your head sad Fate prevails,  
Transfixing it with Adamantine nails,  
Yet can you not your mind set free,  
Or life, from snares of death exempted see.  
The savage Scithyans' better live,  
(Who in their Carts, unconstant dwelling drive)  
And rigid Geteses, whose common ground  
Doth in full store of Corn and Fruits abound.  
And love their tillage to extend,  
No longer, than the yearly season's end:  
So as, whilst one man weary lies,  
A Substitute, him with like pains supplies.  
The Stepdame, there, in peaceful awe,  
Commands her mother-wanting son in law:  
Nor wife, though rich, her husband sways,  
Or, to adulterer spruce, herself betrays.  
" Virtue of Parents, is great Dower,  
" And Chastity restrained to Wedlock's power,  
" Fearful of others touch; that knows  
" The breach is sin, and Death the payment owes.  
Oh, he that would quite take away  
All impious slaughters, and each civil fray:  
If he the city's Father, care  
On statues to be styled: Ah! let him dare,  
(So shall he future glory gain)  
Lose liberty with bridle to restrain.  
But virtue (living) we despise,  
And much admire it, taken from our eyes.  
But what need sad complaints be spent,  
If vice be not cut off with punishment?  
What profit Laws, in vain composed,  
Without good lives? If neither Climes exposed,  
To parched heats: Nor Northern star,  
Nor snow hard crusted, can the Merchant scar:  
Wife Mariners, through rough Seas fly,  
The greatest imputation (Poverty)  
Bids us do that, or suffer this,  
Yet doth the painful way of Virtue miss.  
Then go we to the Capital,  
Where vulgar voice, and troops of friends do call:  
Or, in the nearest Sea be bold,  
Our gems, and precious stones, with fruitless gold,  
The root of many ills to cast.  
If thou wilt fully sins repentance taste,  
Let this first scope thy thoughts inspire,  
To raze the Elements of foul desire:  
And in minds tender, apt to ill,  
To seek the sharpest studies to instill:  
Youth nobly board, as yet vn●●ide,  
Fears hunting sport, and speedy horse to ride:  
Fare better skilled Greek Tops to ply,  
Or Dice, which ancient Roman Laws deny:  
Whilst his false Sire, with cunning wi●es,  
His fellow-neighbour, and his guest beguiles,  
And all this, that he may prepare  
Great heaps of riches, for his worthless heir.  
" Thus, though vile riches grow: yet will  
" Somewhat to our weak state, be wanting still.    

Ode XXVIII. To LYDE.  
He persuadeth Lyde, to spend the day dedicated to Nep●●●● 〈◊〉  

Festo quid potius die.  
WHat do we else on Neptune's Feast?  
Be therefore (Lyde) ready pressed,  
To broach Caecubian Wines, enclosed;  
And let strong wisdom be opposed.  
Thou seest, ' its mid-time of the day,  
And yet, as if swi●t time did stay,  
A Butt, thou sparest, was Cellar-stalld,  
When Bibulus was Consul called.  
With mutual Songs, we'll Neptune please,  
And the greene-hayrd Neretdes.  
On crooked Lyre, sing thou with art,  
Latona, and swift Cynthia's dart:  
Whilst our last strain, her praise unfolds,  
Who Cn●dos, and bright Cyclads holds:  
And Paphos with payrd Swans doth view;  
Yet (Night) we'll pay th●e Verses due.    

Ode XXIX. To MAECENAS.  
He inviteth him to a merry Supper, laying publiques cares aside.  

Tyrrhena regum.  
OH my Maecenas, sprung from roy I●straine,  
Of Tyrrhene Kings; Behold, I do retain,  
Long since by me reserved, to be thine,  
A vessel, yet vnbroached of milder wine;  
Soft rosy flowers, for thee I will prepare,  
And supple Unguents, pressed for thy hair.  
Then free thee from delay: Nor always yield,  
To view from fare Aesulus hanging field,  
Moist Tybur's Site: Nor let thy eyes abide,  
On hills of Telegon, the Particide.  
Leave off to see, successful Rome rejoice,  
In smoky hopes, much wealth, and vulgar voice.  
To great men, changes oft times grateful are:  
And under humble roofs, neat srugall fare,  
Without rich hangings, or gay purple state,  
Doth the most busy brow to mirth dilate.  
Now bright Andromeda's refulgent Sire,  
Shows to this under-world, his hidden fire:  
Now protion, and the raging Lion sways,  
Phoebus reducing dry, and parched days.  
The Shepherd tired, with his faint flock doth high,  
To find cook shades, or trembling current nigh,  
And rough Syluanus thickets: while the shore,  
Becalmed stands, from wind's tumukuons roar.  
Mean time the good of Rome, in mind you bear,  
And of her much solicitous, do fear  
What Seres plot, or Bactria Cyrus' state,  
Or, Tanais war like-dweller perpetrate.  
All-knowing god, with cloudy night doth close  
Events of future times, and laughs at those,  
Who beyond reason fear: Thy present state,  
See then with equal mind thou moderate.  
All other things, like to a River's source,  
Who in the middle Channel of his course,  
Now to the Tyrrhene Sea in silence strays;  
But when fierce Deluges, calm Rivers raise,  
He then in heaps rowles down with dreadful sound  
Stones billow-gnawn, & trees torn from the ground.  
With house, and cattles borne along the flood,  
Frighting the hill with noise, & neighbouring wood.  
He Master of himself, life's merry days,  
Who (this day I have lived) and truly, says;  
To morrow (jove) with black clouds heaven embrace,  
Or let the Sun show forth his golden face.  
Yet notwithstanding God will not agree,  
That what is passed once, shall frustrate be:  
Nor what the once swift-sliding hour hath wrought,  
Will he unfashioned leave, or bring to nought.  
Fortune in adverse chances, sportive ever,  
And bold in scornful pastime to persever,  
Transferreth he● uncertain honours: Now  
To me propitious, instantly to you.  
I praise her, while she stays, but if she shake  
Her fleet wings, I restore what I did take:  
And me with my own virtue, do invest,  
Making thin honest poverty my guest.  
'tis not for me, inprayer time to waste,  
When wracking, Southern ●ind hath rend the Mast,  
And bargain with the gods, that the vast floods,  
May to their wealth, not add my Tyrian goods:  
When I, into such dangerous hazard fall,  
The Wind, and ●●ll●●● with his brother, shall  
Me with a poor two-oated Vessels aid,  
See, safely through Aegtian stor●es conveyed.    

Ode XXX. To MELPOMENE.  
Horace hath obtained eternal glory, by writing of Lyric Verses.  

Exegi Monumentum.  
A Monument by me is brought to pass,  
Out-living Pyramids, or lasting brass,  
The Sepulchre of Kings; which eating rain,  
Nor the fierce Northern tempest can restrain:  
Nor Years (though numberless:) nor Times swift start.  
I will not wholly die; my better part,  
Shall scape the sullen hearse: Bright Fame shall raise  
My memory renewed, with future praise:  
While in the Capitol the Priest ascends,  
With Vestals pure, whom silence so commends.  
I (though) of humble strain will be declared,  
The first, and able most, that ever dared,  
Unto Italian Proportion's use,  
Aecolian antique Measures to reduce.  
Where Aufidus with wrathful stream doth roar,  
Or Daunus poor in waters, reigneth o'er  
Rough barbarous Nations. Take to thee a name,  
Which best (Melpomene) may suit thy fame.  
And (willingly) thy Poet doth request,  
My hair with Delphic Laurel thou invest.     
The End of the third Book.   

ODES OF HORACE.  

The Fourth Book.  

Ode III. To MELPOMENE.  
Horace is borne to Poetry, by whose aid, he hath obtained immortal glory.  

Quem tu Melpomene.  
ON whom (Melpomene) with mild aspect,  
Thou shalt thy favour at his Birth reflect,  
Him; Istmian Labour shall not higher rear  
With Wrestlers title, nor swift horses bear  
By Grecian Chariot drawn, for Victors meeed  
In pompous triumph; nor for warlike deed,  
A Captain in the Capitol be made,  
And decked with Delian Bays, who durst invade,  
And break the swelling threats of hostile Kings:  
But rather those soft-falling gentle Springs,  
Which wash fat Tybur, and Groves thickly grown,  
Shall make his worth in Lyric Verse be shown.  
Rome Queen of Cities, doth no whit disdain  
Me for the Muse's sake to entertain  
Amongst the Poets, loved Quires to sit,  
So that I now, am less with Envy bit.  
(Oh thou Pierian) which with Harp of gold,  
Dost in sweet notes harmonious air unfold;  
(Oh thou) who if thou please, to Fishes mute,  
The Swan's delicious Song canst attribute:  
It wholly is a gift derived from thee,  
That by each finger, which doth pass by me,  
The Roman Lyric Harper they design.  
That I do breath, and please (if please) is thine.    

Ode V To AUGSTUS.  
That now at length he would return into the City.  

Divis orte bonis.  
(CAesar.) thou from the gods propitious sprung,  
Our best preserver, stayest away too long.  
We promise of thy quick return require,  
Made to the sacred Senate: Oh retire,  
(Good Caesar) on thy Country light reflect,  
For where thy Springlike face doth beams eiect,  
More joyful to the people are the days,  
And better doth the Sun, transfuse his rays.  
Like as a Mother (when the Southern wind,  
Her son with envious tempest hath confined,  
Beyond the billows of Carpathian straits  
More than a year:) His home-return a weights  
With vows, and prayers; And the gods implores,  
Her eye not stirring from the crooked shores.  
So strucken with their faithful heart's desire,  
Thy Country (Caesar) doth thyself require.  
Behold the Ox, safe, wandreth up and down;  
Ceres, and bright Felicity do crown,  
And feed the Land. The Seas are calmer framed  
For Sailor's use. Faith feareth to be blamed.  
No chaste house, with Adultery's defiled;  
Custom, and Law, hath spotted sin exiled.  
For Sons like Sires, the Mothers we commend.  
" Companion punishment doth vice attend.  
Who fears the Parthian now, or Scythian bold;  
Or Monsters, which rough Germany doth hold.  
Or Caesar being safe, who will regard,  
That fierce Iberia stands for arms prepared?  
Each man in his own hills, doth close the day,  
And Vines about the widow-Elme display.  
Then frolic to his banquet he retires,  
And thee a god, in second Cups admires.  
With many prayers, he doth his Vows inflame,  
And powers full goblets out unto thy name;  
Thy Godhead seeking with his Lar to please,  
As Greece their Caest●r, and great Hercules.  
(Good Caesar) render long repose we pray,  
To glad Hesperia: This we (sober) say  
When day first breaks: This moistened, when to rest  
The Sun invites us, wa●ing in the West.    

Ode VII. To LUCIUS MANLIUS TORQVATUS.  
Since Time changeth all things, let us live merrily.  

Diffugêre nives.  
NOw snows are quite dissolved, fresh grass we see  
To fields returned, and leaves to every tree.  
The earth with various change each season ranks,  
And falling Rivers glide within their banks.  
Aglaia dareth (naked) on the ground,  
With Nymphs, and her two sisters dance around.  
The year us warns immortal things to doubt,  
And Hour, which circumvolues the day about.  
Soft Western winds, on Winter mildness bring,  
Soon withered Summer, weareth out the Spring,  
Then mellow Autumn, pours his fruits amain,  
And instantly dull Winter turns again.  
Yet speedy Moons celestial harms restore  
To after times: when we are gone before,  
Where Tullus, good Aeneas, Ancus trade,  
Nought are we else (alas) but dust, and shade.  
Who is it knows, whether the heavenly powers,  
Will add to this day's sum to morrow's hours.  
Your greedy heir in nothing shall have part,  
Which you in life shall give with bounteous heart.  
But when you once are dead, and powers divine,  
To you, an equal sentence shall assign;  
Then (oh Torquatus) blood, nor eloquence,  
Nor piety, can life again dispense:  
For neither chaste Hippolytus, was free  
By Diana set, from Hell's obscurity;  
Nor were Laethean bands, by Theseus  
Dissolved, for his dear Pyrithonus.    

Ode VIII. To MARTIUS CENSORINUS.  
There is nothing which can more immortalize men, than Poets Verses.  

Donarem pateras.  
TO friends I would give freely (Censorine)  
Pieces of richest Plate, and Bowls for Wine,  
Threefooted Tables, (valiant Greeks' reward:)  
Nor from my choicest gifts should you be barred,  
Were I with artful figures richly sped,  
Which Parrhase drew, or Scopas portrayed.  
In colours one, in stone the other bold,  
A man sometimes, sometimes a God to mould.  
But I have not this power: Nor do suppose,  
Your wealth, or wish, wants such delights, as those.  
You Verses love, for Verse we make a shift,  
And know what price to set on such a gift;  
Not Marbles with deep Characters engraved,  
By which to valiant Captain's life is saved,  
And spirit after death: Not speedy flight,  
Nor threats of Hannibal, rejected quite:  
Not flames of Carthage better sound his praise,  
Who did his name from conquered Africa raise,  
Then Ennius' Muse: Nor can reward be won,  
If paper tell not, what was bravely done.  
What would become of Mars, and Illia's brood,  
If spiteful silence, Romulus withstood?  
The strength, and grace of Poets powerful wit,  
Makes Aeacus in fields Elysian sir,  
Snatched from Stygian floods." Muses deny,  
A man deserving praise should ever die.  
" Muses give heaven: So dauntless Hercules,  
In love's wished Banquets doth his palate please:  
Castor and Pollux bright Star doth redeem,  
Storme-beaten Vessels, which do shipwrecked seem.  
God Bacchus' brow, adorned with verdant Vine,  
Doth happy end, unto our vows assign.    

Ode XIII. To VIRGIL.  
He describeth the approach of the Spring, and inviteth Virgil under condition to a Banquet.  

jam veris comites.  
SOuth winds, the Spring attending still,  
Now Seas do calm, and Sails do fill:  
Now Frosts do not make Meadows door,  
Nor Winter-Snow, swollen Rivers roar.  
The luckless Bird, her nest doth frame,  
Bewailing Itis, and the shame,  
Of Cecrops house; and that so ill,  
On King's rude lust, she wrought her will.  
The Shepherds of rich Flocks rehearse,  
And to their Pipes chant rural Verse:  
And seek his Godhead to appease,  
Whom flocks, and hills Arcadian please.  
These times do thirsty Seasons send:  
But if (thou Virgil) Caesar's friend,  
With pressed Calenian Liquor high,  
For Wine, thou shalt sweet unguents buy,  
And purchase with a little Box,  
Wine, which Sulpitius safely locks.  
New hopes most powerful to create,  
And bitter ca●es to dissipate.  
Unto which comfort, if thou hast,  
Come hither with thy Unguents fast.  
I'll not (free cost) my cups carrotise,  
As rich men in a plenteous house.  
Then leave delays, and Gain's desire,  
And mindful of black Funeral fire,  
" Short folly mix with Counsels best.  
" 'tis sweet, sometime to be in jest.    

Ode XIII. Against LYCE.  
Who being old, it become a scorn to young men.  

Audivere Lice.  
THe gods have (Lice) heard my vow,  
My vow is heard. thou'rt old, yet thou,  
Vaine wouldst (forsooth) be counted fair,  
And quaff, and wanton with the air:  
And (dru●●●e) with trembling voyee invite  
Slow Cupid; who 〈◊〉 more delight,  
On Chia's rosy cheeks to stay,  
Both young, and skilled in music's lay.  
For he, delay not booking, flies  
From withered Oaks; and from thee hies,  
Whom rotten teeth, and wrinkled face,  
And head of snowy hair, disgrace.  
Now cannot Coamn Purple's use,  
Nor brightest gems, the Time reduce,  
Which once swift-winged Age hath closed  
In public Calendars disposed.  
Where is thy beauty fled? (Ay me)  
Thy colour fresh, and motion free?  
What hast thou of that, that entire,  
Which erst inspired amorous fire?  
And did me from myself divert;  
Next Cynaras, thou happy wert,  
For pleasing beauty, and sweet grace,  
Discovered in a lovely face.  
But Fates to Cynaras did owe,  
Short life, and Lice like the Crow;  
They here surviving longer hold,  
That servant young men may behold.  
Not without laughter, and much scorn,  
A flaming torch to ashes worn.    

Ode XV.  
The praises of Augustus.  

Phoebus' volentem.  
MY Muse by Phoebus was rebuked of late,  
For singing wars, and vanquished cities fate:  
Like those, who in the Tyrrhene Ocean's rage,  
Do little Sails advance. (Caesar) thy age,  
Affordeth plenteous fruits, unto the fields,  
And to Ioues Capitol our Ensigns yields,  
From Parthian Pillars snatched, and after jars  
Hath closed janus' Temple free from wars.  
Confusion hath with Order rectified,  
And wand'ring Liberty in fetters tied.  
Hath antique arts recalled: By which 'tis known  
Hesperia's strength and Latin name hath grown.  
Imperial pomp hath spread, and glory won,  
Stretched from the rising, to the setting Sun.  
While Caesar is our Guardian, civil war,  
Nor violence, our peaceful rest, shall mar.  
Not anger, which swords sharpeneth, and confounds  
Cities, unhappy made with mutual wounds.  
Not they for thirst, that drink in Ister deep,  
Shall once refuse, the julian Laws to keep.  
Not Seres, faithless Persians, nor the Geteses,  
Nor those, which near to Tanais have their seats.  
And we on holy Eves, and holy Days,  
Amongst free Cups, to merry Bacchus' praise:  
With wife, and children, standing in our sight.  
(First Gods invoking with religious Rite)  
Will gladly (as our grandsires did) rehearse,  
(And tuning Lydian Pipe to various Verse,)  
Heroic Captains, Troy, Anobise●gone,  
And brave Aeneas, Cytherea's son.     
The end of the fourth Book.   

CERTAIN EPODS OF HORACE  

Epod I. To MAECEMAS.  
Horace will wa●●● 〈◊〉 M●●ccn●●, going to the Actiack war●●● against M● Anthony.  

I●i● lib●●nis.  
IN low built ●arkes, thou wilt not fail,  
'Mongst lofty tow●ing Ships to s●yle;  
And dost (Macenas) much incline,  
To make great Caesar's peril thi●●.  
What shall we do? Whose life is blest,  
If thou surnive: If not, distressed.  
Shall we (commanded) idle bee:  
Repose is toil, if not with thee.  
Or shall we undergo these pains,  
With minds which no soft ease restrains?  
We will? And through the Alps ascent,  
And Caucasus, where none frequent:  
Yea to the utmost Western parts,  
Will follow thee, with constant hearts.  
You'll ask; How can thy labour please,  
Vntrayned in arms, and weak with ease?  
" In company, Fears little seem,  
Which men in absence, great esteem.  
As Bird, her plumelesse young ones, left,  
More fears to find by Serpent's rest;  
Not that she can with presence, bring  
Force able to resist the sting.  
This warrfare will I undertake,  
Or any other, for thy sake.  
Not that my many Ploughs are found,  
With Oxen more, to till the ground.  
Or Beasts to Lucan Meads are sent,  
Portuguese feruors to prevent.  
Nor Tusculum, my Village clear,  
May to Circaean walls, come near.  
Thy favour me enough hath store,  
Which I, as Chremes will not ●oard  
Within the earth, nor ever shall  
Spend like a wasteful prodigal.    

Epod II.  
The praise of the Country life.  

Beatus ille qui procul negotijs.  
HEe happy is, who fare from busy toil,  
(As elder ages) tills the soil  
With his own Cattle, which his father left,  
From thralling interest bereft.  
He is not moved, when warlike Drums do beat,  
Nor fears the angry Ocean's threat.  
He Pleas, and Suits abhors, and doth refuse,  
The grace of mighty men to use.  
But either doth to tallest Poplars twine,  
The tender offsprings of the Vine.  
And cutting branches off, which useless were,  
Graft those, which better fruit may bear.  
Or, vieweth in some winding valley's maze,  
His wandering Herds of Cattle, graze.  
Or, doth pressed honey in pure vessels keep,  
Or, shear his wool o're-burdned sheep.  
But when with mellow fruit ripe Autumn crowned,  
His head upreareth from the ground.  
How he to taste the grafted Pear delights,  
And grape, that with the Purple fights.  
Which to Priapus, as a gift redounds,  
Or, old Silvanus, God of Bounds.  
Now under aged Oak, he hours doth pass,  
And now reposeth on the grass.  
While gentle Rivers from high banks do glide,  
And Birds their warbling notes divide:  
Small streams, on purling pebbles murmur keep,  
To summon soft, and easy sleep.  
But when loud love, rough Winter sends below,  
In stormy showers, and chilling snow.  
Then he the hardy Boar, from place to place,  
With Fleet-Hounds, into Toils doth chase:  
Or else, the fearful Hare, and fortaine Crane  
With pleasing spoil, in grinns are ta'en.  
Ah! who in thought, 'mongst such delights retains  
Lest sense, of love's disturbing pains?  
But if (in part) a modest wife direct  
The house, and children dear affect.  
As Sabine erst, or swift Apuli●●'s dame,  
Parched with tawny Phebus ●la●●e,  
With old dry w●od, a blessed fire make to burn,  
'Gainst weary husband's wished return:  
And folding glad some stocks in woven grates,  
Dries up their dugs, which milk dildoes;  
And broaching new wines kept in vessels fair,  
An (unbought) Supper doth prepare.  
The Latrine Oyster (sure) not G●i●●head bright,  
Nor Turbot, ye●ldeth more delight;  
If Winter such, when Eastern tempests roar,  
Do drive upon our Terrhene shore.  
jonick Partridges, not Africa Quail,  
Upon my palate more prevail,  
Then doth the unctuous Olive choicely culled,  
From fertile Branches newly pulled:  
Or Sorrell that in Meadows doth abound,  
And Mellowes, bodies making sound.  
Or Lamb, on Terminus his Feast th●t dies,  
Or Kidd redeemed, from Wolf's surprise.  
Amongst these dainties, what content it yields,  
To see the fed-stocks leave the fields.  
To see the weary O●e with neck worn ba●e,  
Dregging the turned plough and share:  
And Hinds (the plenteous household swarm)  
'Bout shining L●rs to sit, and warm.  
This said, rich Al●hins that money lends,  
To lead a Country life intends;  
And in the Ideses his De●●● called in amain,  
But in the Calends lent again.    

Epod VII. To the people of ROME.  
An Exetration of the ci●ill war, raised, on the one side by B●u●● 〈◊〉 Cassius; 〈◊〉 the other, by Octavian, M. Anthony, and Lepidu● the Roman Consuls.  

Quo, quo scelesti.  
AH Traitors, whither hast you? To what end,  
Do your right hands, to shethed swords descend?  
Is there so little yet, of Latin blood,  
Poured on the Champain fields, or Ocean flood?  
Not that the Roman should with flames abate,  
The Towers of Carthage, ●●●●ous of our state:  
Or Britton should (unconquered to this day)  
Be taught, 〈◊〉 chaln●● to ●●ead the Pacred way.  
But that (which now ●lie Parthian would de●●nd)  
This City should be 〈◊〉 by civil hand.  
'Mongst Wol●●s, and Lions never was this use,  
But beasts, whom nature different doth produce.  
Doth Fury blind? Or greater power command?  
Or sin's offence? Oh let me understand?  
They silent are: Th●● 〈…〉  
And fears their horror-strucken minds invade.  
'Tis so: Sour ●ates do Rome with fury stain,  
And tyrannous offence of brother flame.  
Which on ensuing ages laid the guilt,  
When Remus harmless blood on earth was spilt.    

Epod. XIII.  
To his merry friend's, that they should pass the W●●●er 〈◊〉  

H●●rida tempestas.  
ROugh tempests have the brow of heaven bend,  
And showers, and snowed, cause thi●●●●●●●●●e's descent.  
Now Thracian Northwinds, Sea, and woods affray.  
Friends, let us take occasion, from the day;  
While strength is fresh, and us it well becomes,  
Let Age be lightened, which the brow benumbs.  
Boy, see you broach those elder wines were pressed,  
When Torquate first, the Consull's place possessed.  
Speak not of other things. God will perchance,  
These to their seat, with happy change advance.  
Unguents of Persian Odours, now delight;  
Cares driving with Cylenian Harp to flight;  
As noble Chiron to Achilles sang.  
Unvanquished Mortal, that from Thetis sprang,  
Thee Troy expects; which Simois rolling Tide,  
And small Scamander's colder streams divide,  
Whence to return, so Fates thy thread undo,  
Thou canst not back with thy blue Mother go.  
All Sorrow there, with wine, and Song depress,  
(Sweet comforts, of deformed heaviness.)    
The end of the Epods.