f UC-NRLF IUC-I| $B 273 EE7 O •race E.NOLISHEB >ir. 11- yci\\\% <=^ -^ 't^ —4 Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive in 2007 witii funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fiftyodesoflioracOOIioraricli Fifty Odes of Horace ENGLISHED BY William Hathorn Mills SAN BBKNAKUINO, CALIFORNIA BARNUM &. FLAGG COMPANY 19 2 COPYRIGHT 7 < ■ 78 5^ PREFACE In the preparation of these versions I consulted with advantage Mr. Page's abbreviated edition of Horace. But my debt of debts was to my memories of the days when I sat at the feet of Arthur Gray Butler, Head-Master of Haileybury School in the early Sixties. W. H. M. 41855T ^ CONTENTS PAGE Od. I. 1 7 Od. I. 3 8 Od. I. 5 9 Od. I. 6 10 Od. I. 7 11 Od. I. 8 12 Od. I. 13 12 Od. I. 15 13 Od. I. 19 14 Od. I. 23 15 Od. I. 24 15 Od. I. 27 16 Od. I. 28 17 Od. I. 29 18 Od. I. 31 19 Od. I. 32 20 Od. I. 33 20 Od. I. 34 21 Od. I. 35 21 Od. I. 36 28 Od. I. 37 28 Od. I. 38 24 Od. II. 1 25 Od. II. 2 26 Od. II. 4 27 Od. II. 7 28 Od. II. 11 29 Od. II. 12 80 Od. II, 13 : 31' Od. II. 15 82 Od. II. 17 88 Od. II. 18 84 Od. II. 19 85 Od. II. 20 86 Od. III. 1 87 Od. III. 8 88 Od. III. 4 40 Od. III. 6 48 Od. III. 7 44 Od. III. 8 46 Od. III. 9 46 Od. III. 12 47 Od. III. 17 48 Od. III. 20 .48 Od. III. 21 49 Od. III. 25 50 Od. III. 28 60 Od. IV. 2 61 Od. rv. 3 68 Od. IV. 11 68 Od. L I. MAECENAS, heir of ancient kings, my heart's dear pride, my guardian: In chariot-races some delight to gather dust Olympian, Whom post, just missed by glowing wheels, and victory's palm Palladian, Make gods on earth; this man exults if fickle mobs lift him on high. With threefold honours; that, if Libya's produce fills his granary. Attalic wealth would never move one, glad to hoe his sire's domain. To plough, a frightened mariner, in Cyprian galley, Myrtos' main. The merchant, scared by Afric's war with waves Icarian, magnifies Home's rural ease, but soon refits, unused to want, his argosies. There's one who scorns not Massic old, nor hours snatched from the working day. Stretched 'neath green arbutus, or where some sacred fount's rills softly play. Full many love, what mothers hate, wars, camps, horns' scream, and trumpets' blare. The hunter keen, young bride forgot, still lingers in the chilly air. When his good hounds have viewed a hind, or Mars- ian boar has burst his nets' Strong toils. Me ivy, meed of brows poetic, 'mid the high Gods sets. 8 Me the cool grove, and fleet Nymphs trooped with Satyrs, sever from the throng, If but Euterpe's j^ute, and sweet Polymnia's harp, cease not their song. Rank me with lyric bards; my head shall smite the stars, their choirs among. Od. I. 3. FOR this may Cyprus' Goddess-Queen, and Helen's brethren bright, And the winds' Sire, releasing but lapyx from his cave, O ship, whose ward our Virgil is, direct your course aright, So^ landing hira on Attic shore, my being's half you save. His breast was armed with triple bronze and oak, who to rude seas First trusted his frail bark, nor feared squalls of Sirocco fell. Battling it out with Aquilo, nor rainy Hyades, Nor Notus, arbiter whose will bids Hadria sink or swell. What death feared he, who saw dry-eyed the monsters of the deep; Saw the rough main, the Thunder-Heights of infamous renown? If impious galleons none the less o'er waves forbid- den leap, In vain Heaven's wisdom parted lands by Ocean's sundering frown. 9 Bold to endure all things, mankind rushed thro' all wickedness; Prometheus bold brought fire to earth by fraud unfortunate; Soon as the fire had left its heaven, strange fevers and distress Swooped on the world, and death — till then a distant doom and late — Quickened its steps. Thus Daedalus, with wings to man denied. Tempted the void air; Hercules by toil broke Acheron's sway; Naught is too hard for mortal men, who seek in senseless pride The skies: whose sin forbids Jove's ire to put his bolts away. Od. I. 5. WHAT scent-besprinkled stripling lad, Pyrrha, would win your favour, where Some grotto smiles with roses clad? For whom bind you your golden hair, Simple, yet dainty? Soon he'll weep, How oft! changed troth, changed deities. And marvel, as the wind-lashed deep Darkens, and threats his startled eyes. Who in his folly counts you now All gold, and hopes that free for aye And kind you'll be, unwitting how Your favours cheat. Unhappy they 10 On whom you smile untried. For me, His temple-wall and tablet show That to the God, who rules the sea, I hung my drenched robes long ago. Od. I. 6. BY Varius, bird of Homer's strain, Shall you be sung as hero wight, Leader on land or on the main Of troops victorious in the fight. But we, Agrippa, may not tell Your feats, nor staunch Achilles* wrath. Nor chant the house of Pelops fell. Nor sly Ulysses' sea-tossed path. Too weak our strength for paean-hymn, While honour, and a Muse who sways A peaceful lyre, forbid to dim Your fame and Caesar's with poor praise. Mars mailed in adamant, Tydeus' son. By Pallas matched with Gods in might, And, black with dust of Ilion, Meriones — what pen could write Of these? We tell of banquets; we Sing lasses making fierce onset On lads with pared nails, fancy-free, Or, if love-fired, light-hearted yet. u Od. I. 7. RHODES, Mytilene, Ephesus, or Corinth set where two seas foam, Thessalian Tempe, Bacchus' Thebes, or Delphi, seat of Phoebus' pride. Others shall sing. Some only care to hymn chaste Pallas' Attic home. From first to last, and crown their brows with olives plucked from every side. In Juno's honour most will tell of Argos' steeds, Mycenae's gold. Me Sparta staunch, Larisa's plains, never so thrilled as echoing Albuna's fount, and Anio's rush, orchards and groves of Tibur's wold, And restless rills. As Notus oft clears darkened skies, nor loves to bring Perpetual rains, so be you wise, Plancus, to drown life's care and grief In mellow wine, where ensigns light your camp, or 'neath your Tibur's shade. Banished from Salamis and sire, yet Teucer bound with poplar-leaf His wine-moist brows, and bade his friends, a sorrowing crowd, be undismayed. "Whithersoever fate more kind than sire shall lead us, friends, we'll fare; None may despair, where Teucer guides and guards: Apollo's truth has sworn That a new Salamis shall rise elsewhere; with wine now banish care; 12 Worse things weVe known, brave hearts; once more we'll plough the main to-morrow mom." Od, L 8. COME, Lydia, tell me why— by all The Gods I beg you — you would lure By love young Sybaris to his fall: Why now he hates, who could endure Sunshine and dust, the Field, nor rides, In soldier's guise, among his peers: Nor with toothed bit controls and guides His Gallic steed's mouth; aye, and fears Tiber. Why would he sooner risk Venom than oil, who never now Bears bruises, marks of strain — of disc, Or javelin, thrown a winning throw? Why lies he hid, as Thetis' son Lay hid ere Troy's sad fall, they say, Lest man's attire should speed him on. With Lycia's troops, to join the fray? Od. I. 13. WHEN, Lydia, you praise the waxen arms And rosy neck of Telephus, Ah, then my heart swells with the fierce alarms Of jealousy tumultuous. Then reels my brain; my colour comes and goes; Adown my cheeks tears steal and stray — Proofs of my inward anguish — ^with what throes, What smouldering fires, I dwine away. Aye, for I bum when quarrels fired by wine j&i' 13 Have marred your shoulders' argentry: When your mad lover^s teeth have set their sign Upon your lips — an infamy. You would not hope, if but to me you list, To keep him yours, whose brute offence Scars lips on which Venus herself has kissed Her grace — ^her nectar's quintessence. Thrice happy they, and more than thrice, by bond Unbroken linked, whose union A love, uplift all bickerings beyond. Shall bind until life's day is done. Od. I. 15. WHAT time the treacherous shepherd o'er the deep In Mysian bark his hostess Helen bare, Then Nereus lulled the stormy winds to sleep Unwelcome, that he might, as seer, declare His doom. "With evil omens home you take Her, whom the armies of the Hellene name. Sworn to lay waste Priam's old realm, and break Your marriage-bond, shall, as one man, reclaim. Ah me, what agonies threat man and steed! What mischiefs for the Dardan race — ^what dire Ruin — you stir! Pallas, to meet the need. Gets ready helm, shield, chariots, battle-ire. In vain, as counting Venus your ally. You'll comb your long locks, and to peaceful harp Sing songs that women love; in vain youll fly In nuptial room fell spears, and arrows sharp Of Gnossian cane, the battle's stour and boom. 14 The swift pursuit of Ajax — all in vain Your flights; for spite of all, tho* late your doom, Your locks adulterous with dust you'll stain. See you not on your trail Laertes' son, Bane of your race, and Nestor, Pylos' sage ? Teucer of Salamis presses hard upon Your heels, and Sthenelus, well skilled to wage War, or, if steeds need rule, keen charioteer, A dauntless pair. Aye, and you'll learn to know Meriones. More than his sire's peer, Lo, Diomede hunts you, raging, even now: Whom you — as a scared stag flies, soon as he Has spied a wolf, crouched on the vale's far side. Herbage forgot — ^with panting gasps will flee. Not this the life you promised to your bride. The day of doom for Troy and Phrygian dames Achilles' angry warships will delay. After fixed winters' term, Achaian flames Shall waste the homes of Ilion for aye." Od. I. 19. THE cruel mother of the Loves, and Theban Semele's winged Son, And sportive License call me back to wars I fought in bygone days. Its fires — that sheen of Glycera's grace, more purely bright than Parian stone! It fires — ^her pretty petulance: her face that dazzles eyes that gaze! Venus has flung herself on me from Cyprus, nor would have me sing 15 Of Parthian fighting as he flies, of Scyths, of things that matter not. Place me a live turf here, my boys, vervain and incense; aye, and bring Two-year old wine. A victim slain, she'll come in gentler mood, I wot. Od. L 23. /^ HLOE, you always fly from me ^^ Just like a fawn, that heedlessly Has lost, and seeks to find On pathless hills its mother dear. With many a vain and empty fear Of leaves and whispering wind. For whether the glad month of May Has brought its frolic winds to play And rustle thro* the trees, Or lizards green have pushed their way Thro* bramble-bushes, as they stray. It quakes in heart and knees. Yet my pursuit of you is not That of a tigress fierce, or what A desert lion's rage Threatens; you need your mother's care No lonirer, Chloe, for you are Of marriageable age. Od, I. 24. WHAT thought of shame could bound our fond regret For one so dear? Melpomene, thou, whose lyre And liquid voice are gifts of the Great Sire, 16 Prompt us a dirge to pay our sorrow's debt. What, can it be tiiat on Quintilius weighs Eternal sleep? Ah, who shall find his peer? Good Faith and Right, twin sisters, Truth sin- cere. And Honour — can they ever match his praise? True souls — ^how many! — wept his untimely end; None more than you, my Virgil, who witii vain Prayers claim him of the high Gods, and com- plain That not thus was he given you as a friend. But, even if, with more persuasive art Than Thracian Orpheus ever owned, you swayed A lyre that trees obeyed, the empty shade Would nevermore feel life-blood thrill its heart, That Mercury, too deaf to hear our cry, And roll back fate, has grimly waved below To his dark flock. HTis hard; yet, even so, Patience can ease what naught can remedy. Od. I, 27, To fight with goblets is a Thracian p'ame; For pleasure were they made — ^for jollity; Out on the barbarous custom! Do not shame With bloody brawls good Liber's modesty. Twixt Persian glaive and banquets brightly lit, What an enormous gap! Gap let it rest. Stay, friends, your impious noise; away with it. And keep your elbows to your cushions prest. What, am I too to drink a share to-day Of strong Falemian? Then let yon boy, Opuntian Megilla's brother, say 17 What wound, what shaft, has been his fatal joy. Unwilling are you ? Well, not otherwise Will I turn toper. Whatsoever Queen You serve, she will not smirch you in our eyes, For, if your love be wrong, it is not mean. Come, trust your secret to safe ears and true. Ah, hapless one, what an abyss of shame, "What a Charybdis, had inveigled you. Poor boy — and you worthy a better flame ! What witch, what wizard, with Thessalian drugs, What God, will have the power to set you free? Scarcely from this threefold Chimaera's hugs Will Pegasus win you your liberty. Od. I. 28. YOU measured ocean, earth, sands numberless, Archytas; now a little dust bestowed Upon your ashes keeps you in duress By Matine shore; nor boots it that you rode In spirit thro' the skies, and clomb the vault Of heaven, for you were bound to die at last. So too died Pelops' sire, tho' guest exalt Of Gods; so into air Tithonus passed; So Minos too, Jove's confidant; and so Panthous* son in Tartarus yet stays Perforce, to Orcus sent again, what tho* — The shield he claimed witnessed his Trojan days — Black death had naught of him but skin and nerves, Who to your mind was an exponent high Of Nature's truths. Once and for ever serves Death's path; one night waits all humanity. 18 Others the Furies give to jflad Mars* eyes; The grreedy sea on sailors' bones is fed; Old lives and young make one long sacrifice; Persephone never spared a single head. Me too slew Notus on the Illsn-ian sea — Notus of prone Orion comrade swift. But you, O sailor, grudge not churlishly My bones and head unburied a small gift Of shifting sand. So may you ever be Safe, tho* Venusia's woods be tempest-struck: However Eurus threat the Western sea: And Jove, its fount, grant you good meed of luck, And Neptune, blest Tarentum's sure defence. Think you it were a little thing to do A deed would hurt your children's innocence? Nay, on yourself may fall the vengeance due, And haught requital. Not in vain I pray; No expiation will your debt release; Your haste, I guess, will brook this slight delay; Cast but three casts of dust; then go in peace. Od. I. 2g. TJ^HAT, Iccius? Is your heart now set ^^ On Arabs' wealth, and would you wage On Saba's kingfs, untamed as yet. Fierce wars, and curb the Parthians' rage By shackles? What barbarian fair, Her lover slain, your beck shall bide? What boy, from palace brought, with hair Perfumed, shall stand your cup beside, Once trained to bend the Seric bow. /^dte'^ 19 His father bent? Who could deny That up steep mounts rivers may flow, And Tiber turn back, when you try To change for Spanish mail books bought On all sides — ^visions high of truth. By Stoics and Socratics taught, And break the promise of your youth? Od, I. 31. WHAT does his bard ask of divine Apollo in his new-built fane? What — as he pours cups of new wine? Not rich Sardinia's wealth of grain: Not India's gold or ivory: Not hot Calabria's pastures, gay With herds: not lands where quietly Still Liris frets its silent way. Let those, whose luck it is to own Calenian vineyards, prune their vines. That so some merchant of renown May drink from golden cups their wines. For Syrian wares. Heaven's favourite, he, Because, forsooth, three times a year. Or four, he sails successfully The Atlantic main. I have for cheer My olives, chicory, mallows light. Grant me, Apollo, for the rest. Contentment, health, sound wits and bright. An honoured eld, by music blest. 20 Od, I. 32. THEY bid us sing. If aught, my lyre, We two have played in shelters dim, Idly, come, prompt a Latin hymn. Of which the years shall never tire. Thee first the Lesbian, bold in war, Tuned, as the battle came and passed, Or oft as he had moored at last His storm-tossed bark on the wet shore, Who sang of Liber, and the wise Muses, of Venus, to whose arm Ever the Boy clings, of the charm Of Lycus* dark hair and dark eyes. Pride of Apollo's heart, and dear To Jove at banquets, solace blest Of toil, whene'er I make request Aright, be kind, my lyre, and hear. Od. I. 33. THAT, Albius, too bitter memories Of Glycera's unkindness may not break Your heart, and prompt too mournful elegies Telling why, for some younger lover's sake. Her faith is falsed, think how Lycoris, fair With narrow brows, for Cyrus bums, while he Turns to coy Pholoe; but roes will pair Sooner with wolves Apulian, than will she Sin for a lover whom she reckons vile. So wills it Venus — she, whose bronzen yoke Joins forms and souls unequal all the while. Aye, such her will, and such her cruel joke! 21 As for myself, what time a better fate Sought me, I was enthralled by Myrtale, The freedwoman — a soul more passionate Than waves that fret Calabria — Hadria's sea. Od. I. 34- A CHARY worshipper of Gods and rare, When, expert in a mad philosophy, I strayed, now must I put about, and bear Up for the port I left, and once more try Forsaken paths; for the Sky-Father, who Is wont to part the thunder-clouds on high With lightnings, lately drove thro' heaven's clear blue His thundering steeds and flying car, whereby The sluggfish earth and wandering rivers, aye, And Styx, and the abominable Hoe Of Taenarus, and Atlas, boundary Of the wide world, staggered, reel to and fro. God can change heights for depths: can lower the proud, And raise the mean; as Harpy on the wing. From this man's head Fortune, with hurtlings loud, Snatches his crown, to crown another king. Od. I. 35- GODDESS, who rulest Antium dear: Who can'st from lowest depths uplift Mortals, or change, by sudden shift. Triumphal car to funeral bier, Thee the poor rustic courts with bene Urgent; who dares Carpathian sea In bark Bithynian, worships thee, Whoe'er he be, as Ocean's Queen. States, cities, Latium's chivalry. Fierce Dacian, nomad Scythian, Mothers of king^s barbarian, Empurpled monarchs, bow to thee, Lest in the dust thy proud foot lay The Column of the State, and cry Of thronging crowds bid laggards fly To arms! To arms! — and break their sway. Before thee stalks stem Destiny; Her bronzen hands hold grapples dread, And beam-like nails, and molten lead, And wedges — fate's machinery. Hope loves thee; aye, and, clothed in white, Faith, a rare Grace, nor quits thy side Whene'er in wrath from homes of pride. With changed attire, thou takest flight. But faithless crowd, and perjured quean, Fall back, and when the cask is dry, But for its dregs, friends fickle fly, To share the yoke too false, too mean. Keep Caesar safe, what time he goes To Britain, at the world's end set. And our new levies, raised to threat The Indian seas and Eastern foes. Shame on the scars set upon kin By kin! An iron age, what have we Held sacred — ^what impiety Left unattempted? From what sin Has fear of Heaven made Rome's youth flee? What altars has it spared? Anneal In a new forge our blunted steel. For Arabs and Massagetae. Od, L 36. WITH incense, harp, and votive calf, will we Gladly appease the Gods of Numida — The Guardian Presences, whose ministry Has brought him safe from far Hesperia. Full many a kiss he shares with trusty feres; With Lamia most of all, remembering How, in the long-ago of boyhood's years, One leader led them both — one school-boy king; And how they donned their togas side by side. Let the fair day be marked with whitest chalk; Let the broached amphora not grudge its pride. And at the Salian romp let no foot baulk. Nor let that toper, Damalis, surpass Bassus at swallowing cupfuls Thracian-wise; Let roses, lilies, too short-lived, alas! And parsley green, grace the festivities. All eyes will yearn for Damalis, but she To her new paramour will stick, I wot: Clinging to him as ivy clings to tree — Tendrils, whose clasp is as a lovers' knot. Od, I. 37' DUMPERS! Let free foot beat the earth! *-' To drink, dance, honour the sublime Gods* seats with Salian feasts and mirth — Comrades, for this 'tis time, high time. Ere this it had been sin to bring Caecuban from forbears' store-room. While the mad queen was purposing Our Capitol's fall, our empire's doom. 24 She with her eunuch-horde, infect With foul disease, in her mad pride. Drunk with good fortune, could expect Anything. But her madness died When of her battleships scarce one Escaped the flames, and Caesar's near Pursuit pressed her, and stamped upon Her wine-besotted brain true fear. His triremes, as she fled, gave chase. As falcon stoops to dove, as fleet Hunter hunts hares in wintry Thrace, To catch and chain, in vengeance meet, This fateful monster. Ah, but she Claimed nobler death, nor feared the sword With woman's fear, nor secretly Sailed off some distant coast toward. She saw her home in ruins laid, Nor trembled; resolute to take Its deadly poison, unafraid She grasped and held the deadly snake. The prouder for her will to die, She gprudged Rome's ships, this haughty dame. That she, paraded to Rome's eye A discrowned queen, should flaunt Rome's fame. Od. I. 38, DISPLAYS, that Persians love, I hate; Lime-braided chaplets I detest; It makes no matter where the late Rose lingers; stay, my boy, your quest. 25 Just myrtle — that's enough; don't think To better it; it suits, as wreath, You, as you serve, me, as I drink, My wine this close-trained vine beneath. Od. II. I. THE civil war, that in Metellus' year Began — its seeds, faults, phases: Fortune's game: Chiefs* dangerous alliances: the smear Of kindred blood on arms — an impious shame Not yet atoned — that is your theme, a work Beset by risks, by one continual threat; Your feet are, as it were, on fires that lurk 'Neath treacherous ashes — fires that smoulder yet. Withdraw awhile your Muse of Tragedy Austere from theatres, and then anon. When you have shaped your public history, You shall resume your noble theme upon Buskin Cecropian — star of oratory For sad defendants, or in curial Debates, my Pollio, whom your victory Delmatic crowned with bays perennial. E'en now our ears with clarions' threatening blare Are deafened; even now trumpets scream out Their challenge; even now arms' fiery glare Scares horse and horseman into headlong rout. Aye, and I seem to hear of leaders wight Befouled with dust ennobling: of the whole Wide world, and all its things, in bloody fight Subdued, save only Cato's stubborn soul. Juno, and Afric's friendly deities, Who left the land, as powerless to aid. Or to avenge, offered in sacrifice The victors* gn*&ndsons to Jugurtha's shade. What plain is there but what, by Latin gore Fattened, is witness, by the tombs it bears, To impious battles, and the crash which tore Down Italy, and rang in Parthian ears? What gulf, what streams, world over, will you find That know not of our wretched strife? What main Has blood of Daunians not incarnadined? What shore is unpolluted by its stain? But lest, my sportive Muse, you should forget Your jokes, and start a Cean dirge again. Seek we some Dionaean grot, and let A lighter quill temper your coming strain. Od. II. 2. AS silver, hid in greedy earth, Crispus SallustiuSj has no sheen, So metals have for you no worth. Unless use makes their value seen. For aye shall Proculeius' name Be known for fatherly sympathy With brethren; him eternal Fame With tireless wing shall bear on high. Larger you'ld make your empire's reach Subduing self, than if, made one, Gades and Libya — aye, each Carthage — bow^ down to you alone. 27 By self-indulgrence dropsy ^ows, Nor casts out thirst, till from the pale Body the watery languor flows, And from the veins the exciting bale. Unlike the crowd, true Virtue parts Prahates, throned on Cyrus* throne, From the blest roll of happy hearts. And bids the people's voice disown False titles, granting honours true — Sure bays, abiding sovereignty — To him who, with heaped wealth in view. Passes it, unregarded, by. Od. II. 4. LEST, Xanthias Phoceus, you should be ashamed That a mere handmaid has become your queen, Think how of yore the slave Briseis tamed The proud Achilles, by her snowy sheen. Ravished Tecmessa's beauty thrilled and won Ajax, the son of Telamon, her lord; E'en in his hour of triumph, Atreus' son Was love-fired by a captive of his sword, When the barbarians, worsted in the fray. Had fall'n to their Thessalian conqueror, And Hector's death left Troy an easier prey To Hellas' hosts, all weary of the war. Blonde Phyllis' parents may, for all you know. Honour their son-in-law, as bom of high Descent; of royal stock she is, I trow. And mourns unjust Penates' injury. Be sure that she, your mistress, has no strain In her of lowborn rascaldom or shame: That one so faithful, so averse from gain, Was never bom of womb, would smirch your name. Heart— whole I praise her arms, her bonny face, Her shapely ankles; spurn all jealous fears Of one who, hurryinj? onward in life's race, Has run the lustre closinj? forty years. Od. II. 7. POMPEY, who faced with me in countless fights, When Brutus led our war, supremest odds. Who has restored you, with full civic rights, To sides Italian, and your country's Gods, O earliest of my comrades, at whose side I often broke with wine the lingering: Day's irk, my temples wreathed with chaplet's pride, My hair with Syrian ungruent glistering:? With you I shared Philippi's headlong rout. My shield, in haste ignoble, flung away, When valour broke, and threatening boasts died out. As chins rubbed shameful dust. Ah, well-a day! Me, in my terror, Mercury bore fast. Veiled in thick mist, thoro' the grim mellay; But you the battle-wave sucked back, and cast With boiling surf again into the fray. Pay then the feast that you are bound to pay To Jove, and, wearied with the toils of war, Come, and recline beneath my garden bay. Nor spare the casks that wait you in my store. Fill goblets bright with cheering Massic high; From urns capacious pour perfumery; Whose task is it to hurry up and tie Chaplets of lissom parsley, or, maybe, 29 Of myrtle? Whom will Venus now declare The master of the feast? My revelry Shall match Edonians'. It is sweet, I swear, When friends return, to revel furiously. Od, 11. II. WHAT fierce Cantabrian, what the Scythian braves, Parted by Hadria's intervening: waves, Plot, cease, Hirpinus Quinctius, to enquire, Nor vex your soul with passionate desire To sate life's little need. From one and all The charm of beardless youth flies past recall, As hoary eld withers the wanton heart, And bids the sleep that comes at call depart. Not always does the self-same jflory grace Spring-flowers, nor wears the blushing moon one face. Why with the counsels of eternity Weary your soul, too small for things so high? Why not, just as we are, at ease beneath Tall plane-tree or this pine, with the sweet breath Of roses in our gray locks, redolent Of nard Assyrian, drink to our content Wine, while we may ? All gnawing cares are chased Bv Euhius. What boy, with hastened haste, Will quench the fire of our fiery Falernian, from the brook that hurries by? Who from her home will draw that damsel shy, Lyde? Come, bid her bring her ivory Cithern forthwith, with neatly knotted hair. After the manner of a Spartan fair. 80 Od. 11. 12. You would not wish that to my peaceful lyre I should set soni^s of Hannibal, the dire, Or fierce Numantia's Ions: tale of war, Or seas Sicilian red with Punic firore, Or savage Lapithae, or Hylaeus flushed With wine, or Earth's Rigantic offsprinjr, crushed By Hercules' stronj? hand, at whose attack Old Saturn's bright home quaked in fear of wrack, Maecenas; you yourself more worthily Will tell of Caesar in prose history, His fights and feats — how thro* Rome's long parades With necks enchained proud kings passed to the shades. For me, my Muse would have me sweetly praise Licymnia, queen of love — ^what sparkling rays Flaflh from her eyes: how true her heart and leal To mutual love — its claim, and its appeal. It misbecomes her not in any wyse To dance in choirs, to bandy pleasantries. To reach out arms to maidens blithe and gay, Who join the throng on Dian's festal day. Would you for all that rich Achaemenes Possessed: for Phrygian Mygdon's granaries: For Arabs' homes, well stored with treasures fair, Barter one tress of your Licymnia's hair, When to your burning lips she bends awry Her neck, or shuns, with easy coquetry, Kisses, whose ravishment is more to her Than you — and she may be first ravisher? SI Od. II. 13. C^^ an ill-omened day, accursed tree, ^^ Did your first planter plant you, and profane The hand that reared you to the infamy Of country-side, and to descendants' bane. I could believe that one so ruthless miprht Have broke a parent's neck, and stained, maybe, With blood of sleeping: jruest, slain in the nijrht. His inmost chamber; Colchic poisons he Handled, and whatsoever any one Has anywhere planned of sin, who on my farm Set you, curst trunk, to fall one day upon A master's head, who never did you harm. No man from hour to hour takes proper thousrht What he should shun; the Punic mariner Fears the mad Bosphorus, but counts as naught All other risks, no matter whence or where. The soldier fears the shafts shot in swift fiifirht By Parthian foe; the Parthian fears the sryves And prison of Rome; but, unforeseen, Death's misrht Has ever snatched, aye, and will snatch, men's lives. How near were we to seeins: upon her throne Dark Proserpine, aye, and the judizrement-seat Of Aeacus, the separate Avalon, Where roam the blest, and Sappho, with her sweet Aeolian lyre arraijirninjir Lesbos' maids, And you, Alcaeus, with your golden quill Sounding a fuller elegy to the shades, Of exile's, war's, sea's, woes complaining still. The shades stand wondering, as each poet sings Songs worthy solemn silence; but, with ear 82 Keener to drink in tales of banished kinsrs And wars, a shouldering: crowd thronjrs up to hear. What wonder when, dazed by those melodies, The hundred-headed beast drops his ears' threat. And, in the hair of the Eumenides Entwined and twist, their serpents cease to fret. Prometheus, too, and Tantalus, the base. In the sweet sound forjfet their apronies; Nor does Orion lonsrer care to chase Lion that turns to fiRht, or lynx that flies. Od, II. 15, SOON rejfal piles will leave no place For farms; soon crowds will flock to see Fishponds that claim a larjrer space Than Lucrine lake; barren plane-tree Will turn the elm out; presently Will violets, myrtles, the whole round Of sweet flowers, shed their frajrrancy On oliveyards, once fruitful srround; Dense laurels will, as shields upborne. Stay the sun's darts. Far different The use of Romulus, of unshorn Cato, of ancient precedent. Then private means were small; the State Was rich; no private colonnade. By ten-foot rods delineate. Welcomed the cool North to its shade. The casual sod misrht not be tossed Aside; cities and fanes alone Mi^ht be adorned, at public cost — So said the law — with fresh-hewn stone. 83 Od. II. 17, WHY fret me with laments? Nor I, Nor Gods, would will that you should die, Maecenas — you, my fortune's stay, And Rlory — ere I pass away. Should fate untimely bid you die — You, my soul's better half, ah, why Should I, the other half, less dear, Left but a remnant, linprer here? That day shall brinj: one death to both. Whene'er you lead — sure is my oath — As comrades, side by side, we'll tread The trail that's trodden by the dead. Me nor Chimaera, breathing? fire, Shall wrench from you, nor Gyas' ire, Resurjfent with his hundred hands; So will the Fates; so Rijrht demands. For, whether Libra watches me, Or Scorpios fell, the tyranny Of my birth-hour, or, siprn of bane, The Goat, who rules the Western main, Our stars in wondrous wyse a^ree; Thee Jove's protectinpr brilliancy Rescued from impious Saturn's hate, And stayed the winp:s of rushinj: Fate, When with the cheers of thronjfinsr crowd, Thrice-gfiven, the theatres were loud; Me the curst tree, that well nigh broke My head, had slain, but that the stroke Was stayed by Faunus, guardian true Of Hermes' men. As offerings, you Must give fat sheep and votive shrine; A humble lamb must serve for mine. 34 Od. II. i8. NO fretted ceil, with ivory inwroufirht And fi^>ld, makes my small home look Ray; No slabs Hymettian rest on columns brought From Afric quarries far away; Nor has it been my luck to occupy, Of Attalus an unknown heir, A nalace; nor do hifrh-bom clients ply Me robes of Spartan purple fair. But honour brii^ht, aye, and a kindly vein Of genius, are mine; tho' scant My means, a rich man courts me. I disdain To pester Heaven for more, nor want To irk my patron's soul with fresh appeals, Content and happy with my one And only Sabine farm. Day treads on heels Of day, and new moons wane anon. You on the s^rave's edge bargain evermore For marbles to be hewn, build homes, Of death unmindful, and would push the shore. Where the rough sea on Baiae foams, Outward, as all too straitened while the strand's Unbroken line curtails your sway. What of the fact that ever your rude hands Tear neighbour's boundary-stones away: That you o'er leap, a robber unabashed, Your clients' landmarks? Out they go, Bearino" their household Gods, and babes unwashed. Husband and wife, to want and woe. And vet no hall more surely than the grave. The bourn of Orcus, fixed by fate, Awaits the lord of riches. Why, then, crave More than fate grants, insatiate? Impartial Earth opens her doors to poor And rich alike, to prince and swain; Gold never bribed Orcus' assistant dour To brinpT Prometheus back asrain. He prisons Tantalus, the proud, and all His race and kind; called to release Poor souls whose work is done, he hears the call, And brings — aye, and uncalled — ^his peace. Od. 11. ip. BACCHUS I saw, far rocks among — Believe it all posterity — Dictating hymns to a rapt throng — Satyrs goat-hoofed, and Nymphs anigh — The Satyrs all with pricked up ears. Euoi! My heart, fiilled with the God, Beats furiously; my mind still fears; Spare, Liber of the awful rod. Euoi! So may I now recall, And picture, headstrong Thyiades, Wine-springs, rivers of milk, the fall Of honey-drops from hollow trees. Mine too it is to tell how clomb Thy bride to heaven, beatified: How awful ruin wrecked the home Of Pentheus: how Lycurgus died. Thou rulest streams and barbarous seas; On far hills, bibulous, dost entwine The hair of the Bistonides With knotted snakes, disarmed by wine. Thou, when the impious Giant-horde Would scale Heaven's steep, the Sire's domain, With lion's teeth and claws toward. 36 Did'st hurl fell Rhoetus back amain. Called God of dance and sport and fun, Thou wert esteemed unfit for arms; Yet did'st thou bear thyself as one For whom both war and peace have charms. To Cerberus, with horn of srold, Thou wert as friend, whose tail, to srreet Thy cominsf, stroked thee: whose threefold ToniTue licked thy parting le^rs and feet. Od, II, 20. NOT common and not weak the wins: whereon, A bard of twofold nature, I shall soar Thro' the clear air; this earth I'll quit anon, And leave its cities, lift for evermore Beyond all envy. Child of poverty. Yet called to hear, as friend, your last farewell, Beloved Maecenas, I shall never die, Nor brook restraint within the Styjrian hell. Now, even now, my leg^s put on rough skin; Above, a white bird in the fashioninj:, I take new shape; shoulders and hands bej^in To wear a plumaj^e smooth and jflisterinfl:. More famed than Daedalean Icarus, Now shall I visit, as a tuneful swan, Gaetulian Svrtes, shores where Bosphorus Moans, Northern Steppes; Colchian, and Dacian, Who fears the Marsian chivalry, yet tries To hide his fear, Geloni over-sea. Shall come to know me; Spaniard too, prrown wise, And they who drink the Rhone, shall learn of me. 37 Let no dishonouring wails, no elegies, No dirges sad, insult my empty bier; Speak softly; 'tis no time for noisy cries; The rites that honour tombs are useless here. Od. III. I. 1HATE and spurn the unhallowed throng; Keep silence, all, while I dictate, Priest of the Muses laureate, To boys and girls new forms of song. Kinoes claim their own flocks' fealty; To Jove the kings themselves bow down, Who rules the wide world by his frown. And smote the Titans gloriously. More widely one plants trees; whereas One candidate of nobler birth Enters the Field, another's worth Stands in high fame; another has More numerous clients. All the same. Ever and aye Necessity Dooms high and low impartially; The vasty urn shakes every name. For him, o'er whom hangs the alarm Of drawn sword, feasts of Sicily Will have no sweets, the melody Of birds and lyre will have no charm To bring back sleep. Sleep calm and bland Scorns not the cots of labouring men, Nor shady banks of stream! or glen, Nor Tempe's vale by Zephyrs fanned. What is enough — that and no more — Who craves but this, nor rough sea frets, Nor storms that, when Arcturus sets, Or the Kid rises, rage and roar, 88 Nor hails that lash his vines, nor land That cheats his hopes, while trees complain Of stars that scorch the fields, of rain, Of the fierce jfrip of Winter's hand. "Ruge moles, thrust out, narrow the sea For fish, where the contractor's band, And owner, weary of the land, Cast chips into the masonry. But Fear and Menace climb as hififh. As climbs the lord — twin frets of mind — On bronze-beaked trireme, and behind Rider, sits black Anxiety. But, if nor Phryjfian stone, nor dress Sheeny as stars, nor vineries Falemian, nor Achaemenes' Perfumes, can soften his distress, Why build with portals of desire A hall, new-planned to threat the sky? Why change my Sabine snuprgery For wealth whose burdens fret and tire? Od. III. 3. WHO loves the Right, whose will is resolute. His purpose naught can shake — not rage of brute Mob bidding him work evil: not the eye Of threatening despot: not the tyranny Of Auster, lord of Hadria's restless sea: Not Jove's great hand, red with artillery; A shattered world, falling in ruins, might Crush him; his dauntless soul it will not fright. "Thus Pollux and Alcmene's roaming son Up to the flaming heights of heaven won; 89 Thus, seated at their side, Augustus sips The nectar of the Gods with radiant lips. Thus, Father Bacchus, as in homage due To thy deserts, tigers unbroken drew Thy car; thus in the chariot of Mars Quirinus rose o'er Acheron to the stars, When to the Gods in council came the word Of Juno — gracious speech, and gladly heard — "O Ilion, Ilion, by a judge obscene, A wretch accursed, and by a foreign quean, Rolled in the dust — aye, damned and unforgiven, Since false Laomedon broke faith with Heaven, By me and chaste Minerva — reprobate, People and perjured king — one folk, one fate! Aye, but no longer does the guest infame Trick himself out for Sparta's harlot-dame; No longer Priam's faithless house beats back. With Hector's aid, Achaia's fierce attack; Prolonged by our disputes, the weary war's Offence is over now; forthwith to Mars Will I give up my anger, and my hate Toward my grandson, whom his earth-born mate. The Trojan priestess, bare. To him will I Grant entrance where on shining couches lie The blessed; nectar shall he quaff, and find Among the untroubled Gods his rank assigned. The wide world thro', so long as angry seas Part Rome and Ilion, wheresoe'er they please, Let Trojan exiles lord it, safe and blest; So long as herds leap o'er the tombs, where rest Priam and Paris, and wolves, scatheless, hide Their younglings, let the Capitol, in its pride. Stand glorious, and let the might and awe Of Rome rule conquered Medes, and be their law. Feared far and wide, let her extend her sway To earth's remotest bounds, where Africa And Europe face the intervening: main, And Nile inundant floods the Egyptian plain. Let her be rather bold to scorn the Rold That earth conceals — 'tis better hid — than bold To gather it up with prreedy hands that seize All sacred things for human usages. Whatever limits bound the world, her war Shall compass them, exultant to explore Where sunflames hold their maddest revelry. Where dews are rains, and fog-banks cloak the sky. But to Quirinus' braves I prophesy This future on the terms that niety Too great, and self -trust, seek not to restore Dead Troy — the Troy their forbears built of yore. The fate of Troy, with evil augury Reborn, shall once again spell tragedy. When I, Jove's queen and sister, lead the foe Whose conquering hosts achieve her overthrow. Tho* thrice the bronzen wall from ruins rose. By Phoebus built, thrice would Achaian blows, My champions', fell it; thrice would captive wife Wail lord and sons, slain in the battle-strife." Such songs as these suit not my sportive lyre; Whither, my Muse, would'st soar? Stay thy desire Headstrong to tell what the high Gods may say. And shrink a theme sublime with lowly lay. Od. III. 4- COME down from heaven, royal Calliope; Breathe on the pipe a deathless melody. Or sing a song — sing it with clarion voice. Or to the harp of Phoebus — ^thine the choice. 41 Hear ye her strain? Or does a frenzy kind Mock me? I seem to hear it, and to wind My way thro' holy groves, where 'neath the trees Play pleasant streamlets and a kindly breeze. Me on Apulian Vultur, past the line That bounds Apulia, my nurse langsyne, The storied doves of Venus strewed with green Leaves, as I slept, play-tired, the sleep serene Of boyhood, as a sign — a prodigy — For all whom Acherontia's aerie. Or Bantia's glades, shelter, and them whose toil Ploughs the rich tilths of low Forentum's soil. They marvelled how it was I slept unscathed By deadly snakes and bears: how I was swathed With sacred bays, and myrtles* kind embrace — A child inspired by Heaven's peculiar grace. Aye, and as yours, ye Muses — yours for aye — I climb my Sabine hill, or make my way To favourite haunts — Praeneste's chilly height, Or Tibur's slopes, or Baiae, clear and bright. Because your sweet choirs love me as their own, Your fountains too, no death has struck me down — Not sad Philippi's rout, not the curst tree, Not Palinurus on Sicilian sea. With you beside me, as a seaman, I Will brave mad Bosphorus right willingly; With you, as traveller, will wander o'er The burning sands of far Assyria's shore. The stranger-hating Britons will I greet: The Concani who drink, and count it sweet, The blood of horses: the Geloni armed With quivers: Scythia's river — all unharmed. You too to mighty Caesar, soon as he Has settled in the towns where they would be His war-worn troops, and from his toils would cease, 42 Give, in some jrrot Pierian, welcome peace. Gentle your counsel; ^irracious too, I trow, Your joy in its acceptance; this we know — Know it as knowinpr how it was with him. Who smote the impious Titan hordes with fcrim Descending bolt — ^who sways the windy sea And sluggish earth: whose one sole empery Rules earth's abodes and realms of sad duress. Mortals and Gods alike, in righteousness. Great had Jove's fear been when the giant brood, Proud of their frightful arms, against him stood; And when the brothers strove to fix upon Shady Olympus lofty Pelion. But what availed Tyohon — what the strong hand Of Mimas, or Porphyrion's threatening stand: What Rhoetus, or Enceladus, the stark Hurler of uptom trees, with heaven for mark, When Pallas' sounding aegis barred the way? Here stood fierce Vulcan, greedy for the fray; Dame Juno there, and he, whose shoulders now Bear, and shall ever bear, his mighty bow: Who with Castalia's waters dewy-bright Bathes his long locks: who holds, as of birthright, All Lycia's woods and brakes — Phoebus, adored As Delos' glory, and as Patara's lord. Force lackine counsel falls by its own weight; Force temperate the Gods make yet more great— The Gods who hate the strength that would defv Their righteous will, and plot iniquity. Gyas, the hundred-handed, seals as true These maxims: infamous Orion too. For foul assault on chaste Minerva known, And by her virgin arrows smitten down. On her own monsters heaped, with many a wail Earth weeps her sons hurled down to Orcus's pale 48 By thunder-bolts, whose fires, haste as they will To eat thro' Aetna's pile, are prisoners still. The jailor- vulture, lechery's penalty. Still ^ruards the lustful Tityos ceaselessly, And ^aws his liver; chains three hundred hold Pirithous captive, for love over-bold. Od. III. 6. FOR sins of ancestors will you atone, Roman, what tho' the sins were not your own, Till you repair the high Gods' sanctuaries. Their tottering fanes, their smoke-grimed images. You rule the world because to heaven you bow. Hence nations rise and fall; often ere now, Angered by man's neglects, the Gods have hurled Distress and anguish on the Western world. Once and again Monaeses and the horde Of Pacorus have broke our unblest sword, And, booty-laden, add with grin&,ng glee To their few tores our captured nnery. Dacian and Aethiop have well nigh wracked Our city, with its civil wars distract — The Aethiop, by sea no puny foe: The Dacian, master of the twanging bow. Fruitful in crime, the ages as they ran First fouled the marriage-bond, the home, the clan; Thence sprang a flood of ill — a flood that broke In on our hapless country and our folk. The girl grows up to learn the Ionic dance, And, even now, with stage-tricks would enhance Her charms, who dreams, her inmost heart within. Of loves unlawful — aye, and hugs her sin. Not of such parentafire or such a strain Were they who dyed with.vjjlood the l*unic main — The youth, whose war brok6 Pyrrhus, and ctfuld quell Antiochus, and Hannibal, the fell. Nay, 'twas a brood, stalwart and masculine. Of yeomen-soldiers — lads, who with Sabine Spades turned the clods, and, as stem mothers bid, Shouldered their piles of t&trf^ots, kid by kid, To bring them home what time the sun should shift The shi^ows, and from weary oxen lift Their yokes, with partinjf chariot speedinj? on The friendly hour when the day's work is done. What has it not debased, this present curse? <>- Our parents' ajfe, th^n our firrandparents' worse. Has brouirht us forth, who shall besret, ah shame! Children yet more unworthy Rome's fn*eat name. Od. III. 7. WHY weep, Asterie, your swain Constant and leal, whom Zephyrs clear With the new sprine will brinj? ag:ain To you, enriched with Thynian gear, Gyges? He, driven by Southern gales To far-off Oricum, when rose The Goat's mad star, sleepless bewails Thro' chilly nights his wants and woes. And yet his hostess, love-sick dame. Sends messages that Chloe sighs. Poor soul, wiUi love like yours aflame, And artful tempts him manywise. She tells how a false wife of yore Urged Proetus, credulous husband, on. By charges false, to slay before 45 His time too chaste Bellerophon: How Peleus 'scaped death-penalty Hardly, who fled, wise heart and pure, Magnesian Hippolyte, And brings up tales with sinful lure, In vain; tiian rocks Icarian More deaf, he hears the words heart-whole. Beware you, lest your neighbour-man Enipeus over-please your soul; Tho' never another cavalier On Martian sward attracts such gaze, Nor Tuscan Tiber knows his peer Of all who swim its watery ways. At nightfall close your doors, nor eye The streets below what time you hear Flute's plaintive notes, and to the cry, That calls you cruel, turn deaf ear. Od, III. 8, MARCH has come in. You would find out What I, a bachelor, am about — What mean these flowers, these incense-bowls, liiese live sods topped with kindled coals. You doubt, tho' Roman tales you know. And Greek. Well, Liber claims a vow — Feast and white goat — vowed when the tree, That fell, all but demolished me. Each year this festal day shall see Its pitch-sealed cork drawn faithfully From out a jar that, cellared here. First drank the smoke in Tullus' year. For my escape, and for my sake, A hundred cups, Maecenas, take; Keep the lamps lit till dawn of day; 46 Clamour and brawls — Avaunt! Away! Dismiss all public cares; no more Will Thracian Cotiso wajare war; The hostile Parthians' civic strife Hurts only their own country's life. In Spain our old Cantabrian foe Obeys the mijfht that laid him low At last; the Scythians think to slack Their bows, and from their plains fall back. Here lust a citizen, abate Thoughts over-anxious for the State; Care-free, enjoy for this brief hour The sweet of life; forgret the fiour. Od. III. p. He. WHILE you were happy in my love, And no more favoured swain mifrht flin^ Round your white neck his arms, I throve. More blest than any Persian king. She. While yet you had no other flame, Ere Chloe ousted Lydia, I, Lydia, throve — a maid of fame. Who outshone Roman Ilia. He. Chloe of Thrace is now my queen, Skilled in the lyre's sweet strains, for whom 111 never fear to die, I ween. If but fate lift my true life's doom. 47 She. Me Ornytus' son, Calais, The Thurine, fires, who am his joy; For whom I'd die twice o'er, ywis, If but the fates will spare my boy. He. What if with yoke that shall abide Old love knits sundered hearts once more? What if blonde Chloe's cast aside, And Lydia scorned re-opes her doorlj ? She. Tho' he is brighter than a star. And you than cork are lighter — aye, Than boisterous Hadria rougher far, With you I'd live: with you I'd die. Od, IIL 12. POOR girls! We may not give our love free play, Or drown in wine our sense of hurt and wrong, Or, if we do, must bear, as best we may. The deadly lashes of an uncle's tongrue. Venus' winged cherub steals your wicker-tray. Poor Neobule; the bright radiancy Of Liparaean Hebrus takes away The webs of throng Minerva's industry, When he has bathed, returning from the lists. In Tiber's flood his shoulders oiled; as knight, A greater than Bellerophon; quick fists, Quick feet, give him the palm in race or fight. Skilled he to shoot in the open stags that rush Forth, when the herd is driven from its lay; And swift to meet the boar, couched in the brush Of some dense thicket, as it breaks away. 48 Od. III. 17. Q PRUNG, noble Aelius, from Lamus old, ^ (Since, as folk say, 'twas he who srave their name To early Lamiae, and — the annals hold The proofs of this — ^the entire clan can claim Descent from him who was, 'tis said, first kins: Of Formiae, and of the country-side. Where on Marica's coasts, meanderinj?. Slow Liris swims, lord of dominions wide) To-morrow will the East Wind brinj? a blast. Shall strew with useless weed the shore, with leaves The woods, unless the asred crow's forecast, Its prophecy of coming: rain, deceives Our ears. Get in, then, while the weather's fine. Dry wood; to-morrow will you chase away Your Genius' cares with sucking piRr and wine, Makinfl:, with all your household, holiday. Od. 111. 20. SEE you not, Pyrrhus, at what risk you steal Her cubs from a Gaetulian lioness? Soon, very soon, as robber, will you feel Her wrath, and know fli^rht's terror and distress. What time she comes, thro' ranks that seek to bar Her way, to claim Nearchus, her delijfht — To settle whose shall be the spoils of war. Her prize or rather yours — a famous fijfht. Meantime, they say, while she whets her fierce fanjifs, And you are f^ettin^ out your arrows fleet. 49 He, on whose will the battle's issue hanjrs, Tramples upon the palm with naked feet, While on his shoulders and his scented hair, That round about them falls, plays, as it wills, A soft refreshing breeze — as Nireus fair, Or Ganymede, rapt up from Ida's rills. Od, III. 21. OBORN with me in Manlius' year, Good jar, whatever jrifts you bear — Jokes, quarrels, strife, mad love», light sleep — To whatsoever end you keep Choice Massic, come, for to yourself You owe the move, down from your shelf, On this glad day; for mellower brands Corvinus calls; his wish commands. Steeped in the Schools' philosophy. He's yet no boor to pass you by. Why, oftentimes — so we are told — Wine warmed stem Cato's soul of old. You rack dull wits full tenderly. Unveil hid wisdom's mystery. And straight the wise man's cares depart, As gay Lyaeus glads his heart. Hope cheers the anxious by your gift; The weakling's horn on high you lift; Heartened by you he laughs at fear Of diademed kings, of sword and spear. Liber, and Venus, if she's good: The Graces' close-knit sisterhood. And live lamps still shall lead you on While Dawn is bidding stars begone. 50 Od. Ill, 23, ' WHITHER, O Bacchus, bearest me inspired? Into what j^'oves, what grottoes, am I now Hurried, by new thouj?hts swept alonj? and fired? What caves shall hear me meditating how I may exalt great Caesar's fame for aye To Jove's high council, and the starry skies? My song shall be sublime and new, a lay None other yet has sung. Not otherwise Than Euhiad, in nightlong revelry Upon the hills, is ravished as her eye Scans Hebrus, snow-white Thrace, and Rhodope, By foot barbarian traversed, so am I Entranced, what time, by visions borne along, I gaze on quiet groves and riverside. Lord of Naiads, and Bacchantes, strong To overturn tall ash-trees* towering pride. Naught petty, naught unworthy its high due, Not death itself, shall touch this song of mine. Tis a sweet risk, Lenaean, to ensue The God who wreathes his brows with pliant vine. Od. III. 28. \Y/HAT could I better do on Neptune's day? ^^ Lyde, be quick and broach the Caecuban Hid in your store, and with me make foray On wisdom's fortress — that's my present plan. Midday is past; you see how Phoebus' car Sinks; yet as tho' the flying day stood still. You pause, as loth to bring the lingering jar. 51 That erst the year of Bibulus bade you fill. Now will we sing in turn — of Neptune I, And f?reen-haired Nereids; your part shall be To sing to your curved lyre Latona, aye, And flying: Cynthia's fierce artillery. Lastly the Cnidian queen shall be our theme, Who holds the shining Cyclades in fee, And visits Paphos' isle with swans for team; Night too shall have her meed of elegy. Od. IV. 2. WHO seeks to rival Pindar, he Upsoars on wings waxed with the skill, Julus, of Daedalus, and will Name with his name some glassy sea. As stream that down the mountain's steep, Above its banks by rains uplift, Rushes, so surges Pindar swift With boundless flood, with utterance deep. Worthy Apollo's bays is he. Whether in dithyrambs bold he pours Forth words new-formed, or song that wars Against all laws of poetry; "VN^ether he hymns Gods, or acclaims Kings bom of Gods, whose valour slew The Centaurs — righteous doom and due — And quenched Chimaera's fearsome flames; Or tells of heroes glorified By palm Olympian, of steed, Of boxer, bringing to. them a meed A hundred statues could not side; Or, wailing bridegroom rapt away From weeping bride, exalts on high 52 His fitrength, soul, sroMen courtesy, And grudges Orcus' jfloom its prey. Stron;? is the breeze that lifts the swan Dircaean, Antony, what time To heifrhts of cloud-land it would climb. I, as a Matine bee drones on, CuUinfi: the thyme's sweets toilfully By watery Tibur's prroves and braes. Fashion, a humble bard, my lays With pains of strenuous industry. A poet, you, of nobler quill Shall sing of Caesar when, with well Earned bays enwreathed, he leads the fell ^gambri down the Sacred Hill; Than whom Fate and kind deities Have given naught better, naught that is Greater, to earth, nor will, ywis. Give, tho' the Golden Age re-rise. Of feasts and games your song shall be — Our thanks for answered prayers that gave Back to our arms Augustus brave — And Forum from all law-suits free. Then too my voice, if not in vain Its utterance, shall come in, and say, Full-toned, "O fair, O happy day!" For joy that Caesar's home again. And, as you lead the way, we'll raise, Not once alone, our triumph-shout, Ho Triumph! — all will peal it out. And offer Heaven incense in praise. Your debt ten bulls, as many cows. Shall quit; a calf will set me free — A youngling weaned, that on lush lea Grows to its strength to pay my vows. Whose brow, with homlets newly grown, • • • *. • 53 Copies the young moon's crescent rays, At its third rise; it shows a blaze, A birth-mark; elsewhere 'tis red-roan. Od. IV. 3. HE on whose birth, Melpomene, Thou once for all hast set thine eye. Thy placid gaze, shall never be A boxer, famed for mastery In Isthmian games; no fiery steeds Shall draw him in Achaean car To victory, nor shall mighty deeds Display him, as a man of war. To Rome's heart, crowned with Delian bays, Because he cast proud tyrants down. But Tibur's thickly wooded braes. And streams, shall rear him to renown. With lyric song. As for rewards. To me poetic rank the youth Of Rome, of cities queen, accords. And blunted now is envy's tooth. Muse of the golden lyre, whose art Tempers its strings to harmony: Who could'st, were it thy will, impart To voiceless fish the swan's clear cry: That as Rome's minstrel-bard I'm hailed By passers' fingers lift to me: My breath, and, if I have not failed To charm, my charm — 'tis all of thee! Od. IV. II. I HAVE a cask of Alban, more * Than nine years old; my garden-grounds, Phyllis, of parsley have good store. 54 For chaplets meet; ivy abounds — Sprays that show out your beauty's sheen, Bindinjf your hair; the house looks good With silver plate; with vervain green, The altar claims a slain lamb's blood. All hands are busy; to and fro Run boys and girls in companies; The fire-flames flicker as they go Upward, and black smoke-eddies rise. What joys invite you? Well, the Ides Claim your attendance, be it known — Mid-April's feast-day that divides The month that Venus counts her own: Rightly a feast for me, well nigh More sacred than my birth's event, For from this anniversary Maecenas tells his life's ascent. You long for Telephus, a lad Not of your class; a wealthy maid Has snapped him up, and holds him, glad To be her prisoner — saucy jade. From greed's ambitions Phaethon Consumed deters; the tale that tells How Pegasus flung Bellerophon, Scorning his earth-bom rider, spells Warning to you that you should choose Meet things: should cut too venturesome Hopes down as sinful: should refuse A mate unequal. Come, then, come. Last of my loves, for not again Shall I love woman; learn my lays, That your dear voice may lilt each strain; All gloom, all troubles, song allays. VB 12045 418557 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY