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Complete Works of Horace (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

Page 31

by Horace Quintus Horatius Flaccus


  ’Twas shame to broach, before to-day,

  The Caecuban, while Egypt’s dame

  Threaten’d our power in dust to lay

  And wrap the Capitol in flame,

  Girt with her foul emasculate throng,

  By Fortune’s sweet new wine befool’d,

  In hope’s ungovern’d weakness strong

  To hope for all; but soon she cool’d,

  To see one ship from burning ‘scape;

  Great Caesar taught her dizzy brain,

  Made mad by Mareotic grape,

  To feel the sobering truth of pain,

  And gave her chase from Italy,

  As after doves fierce falcons speed,

  As hunters ‘neath Haemonia’s sky

  Chase the tired hare, so might he lead

  The fiend enchain’d; SHE sought to die

  More nobly, nor with woman’s dread

  Quail’d at the steel, nor timorously

  In her fleet ships to covert fled.

  Amid her ruin’d halls she stood

  Unblench’d, and fearless to the end

  Grasp’d the fell snakes, that all her blood

  Might with the cold black venom blend,

  Death’s purpose flushing in her face;

  Nor to our ships the glory gave,

  That she, no vulgar dame, should grace

  A triumph, crownless, and a slave.

  ODE XXXVIII.

  PERSICOS ODI.

  No Persian cumber, boy, for me;

  I hate your garlands linden-plaited;

  Leave winter’s rose where on the tree

  It hangs belated.

  Wreath me plain myrtle; never think

  Plain myrtle either’s wear unfitting,

  Yours as you wait, mine as I drink

  In vine-bower sitting.

  BOOK II.

  ODE I.

  MOTUM EX METELLO.

  The broils that from Metellus date,

  The secret springs, the dark intrigues,

  The freaks of Fortune, and the great

  Confederate in disastrous leagues,

  And arms with uncleansed slaughter red,

  A work of danger and distrust,

  You treat, as one on fire should tread,

  Scarce hid by treacherous ashen crust.

  Let Tragedy’s stern muse be mute

  Awhile; and when your order’d page

  Has told Rome’s tale, that buskin’d foot

  Again shall mount the Attic stage,

  Pollio, the pale defendant’s shield,

  In deep debate the senate’s stay,

  The hero of Dalmatic field

  By Triumph crown’d with deathless bay.

  E’en now with trumpet’s threatening blare

  You thrill our ears; the clarion brays;

  The lightnings of the armour scare

  The steed, and daunt the rider’s gaze.

  Methinks I hear of leaders proud

  With no uncomely dust distain’d,

  And all the world by conquest bow’d,

  And only Cato’s soul unchain’d.

  Yes, Juno and the powers on high

  That left their Afric to its doom,

  Have led the victors’ progeny

  As victims to Jugurtha’s tomb.

  What field, by Latian blood-drops fed,

  Proclaims not the unnatural deeds

  It buries, and the earthquake dread

  Whose distant thunder shook the Medes?

  What gulf, what river has not seen

  Those sights of sorrow? nay, what sea

  Has Daunian carnage yet left green?

  What coast from Roman blood is free?

  But pause, gay Muse, nor leave your play

  Another Cean dirge to sing;

  With me to Venus’ bower away,

  And there attune a lighter string.

  ODE II.

  NULLUS ARGENTO.

  The silver, Sallust, shows not fair

  While buried in the greedy mine:

  You love it not till moderate wear

  Have given it shine.

  Honour to Proculeius! he

  To brethren play’d a father’s part;

  Fame shall embalm through years to be

  That noble heart.

  Who curbs a greedy soul may boast

  More power than if his broad-based throne

  Bridged Libya’s sea, and either coast

  Were all his own.

  Indulgence bids the dropsy grow;

  Who fain would quench the palate’s flame

  Must rescue from the watery foe

  The pale weak frame.

  Phraates, throned where Cyrus sate,

  May count for blest with vulgar herds,

  But not with Virtue; soon or late

  From lying words

  She weans men’s lips; for him she keeps

  The crown, the purple, and the bays,

  Who dares to look on treasure-heaps

  With unblench’d gaze.

  ODE III.

  AEQUAM, MEMENTO.

  An equal mind, when storms o’ercloud,

  Maintain, nor ‘neath a brighter sky

  Let pleasure make your heart too proud,

  O Dellius, Dellius! sure to die,

  Whether in gloom you spend each year,

  Or through long holydays at ease

  In grassy nook your spirit cheer

  With old Falernian vintages,

  Where poplar pale, and pine-tree high

  Their hospitable shadows spread

  Entwined, and panting waters try

  To hurry down their zigzag bed.

  Bring wine and scents, and roses’ bloom,

  Too brief, alas! to that sweet place,

  While life, and fortune, and the loom

  Of the Three Sisters yield you grace.

  Soon must you leave the woods you buy,

  Your villa, wash’d by Tiber’s flow,

  Leave, — and your treasures, heap’d so high,

  Your reckless heir will level low.

  Whether from Argos’ founder born

  In wealth you lived beneath the sun,

  Or nursed in beggary and scorn,

  You fall to Death, who pities none.

  One way all travel; the dark urn

  Shakes each man’s lot, that soon or late

  Will force him, hopeless of return,

  On board the exile-ship of Fate.

  ODE IV.

  NE SIT ANCILLAE

  Why, Xanthias, blush to own you love

  Your slave? Briseis, long ago,

  A captive, could Achilles move

  With breast of snow.

  Tecmessa’s charms enslaved her lord,

  Stout Ajax, heir of Telamon;

  Atrides, in his pride, adored

  The maid he won,

  When Troy to Thessaly gave way,

  And Hector’s all too quick decease

  Made Pergamus an easier prey

  To wearied Greece.

  What if, as auburn Phyllis’ mate,

  You graft yourself on regal stem?

  Oh yes! be sure her sires were great;

  She weeps for THEM.

  Believe me, from no rascal scum

  Your charmer sprang; so true a flame,

  Such hate of greed, could never come

  From vulgar dame.

  With honest fervour I commend

  Those lips, those eyes; you need not fear

  A rival, hurrying on to end

  His fortieth year.

  ODE VI.

  SEPTIMI, GADES.

  Septimius, who with me would brave

  Far Gades, and Cantabrian land

  Untamed by Home, and Moorish wave

  That whirls the sand;

  Fair Tibur, town of Argive kings,

  There would I end my days serene,

  At rest from seas and travellings,

  And service seen.

  Sh
ould angry Fate those wishes foil,

  Then let me seek Galesus, sweet

  To skin-clad sheep, and that rich soil,

  The Spartan’s seat.

  O, what can match the green recess,

  Whose honey not to Hybla yields,

  Whose olives vie with those that bless

  Venafrum’s fields?

  Long springs, mild winters glad that spot

  By Jove’s good grace, and Aulon, dear

  To fruitful Bacchus, envies not

  Falernian cheer.

  That spot, those happy heights desire

  Our sojourn; there, when life shall end,

  Your tear shall dew my yet warm pyre,

  Your bard and friend.

  ODE VII.

  O SAEPE MECUM.

  O, Oft with me in troublous time

  Involved, when Brutus warr’d in Greece,

  Who gives you back to your own clime

  And your own gods, a man of peace,

  Pompey, the earliest friend I knew,

  With whom I oft cut short the hours

  With wine, my hair bright bathed in dew

  Of Syrian oils, and wreathed with flowers?

  With you I shared Philippi’s rout,

  Unseemly parted from my shield,

  When Valour fell, and warriors stout

  Were tumbled on the inglorious field:

  But I was saved by Mercury,

  Wrapp’d in thick mist, yet trembling sore,

  While you to that tempestuous sea

  Were swept by battle’s tide once more.

  Come, pay to Jove the feast you owe;

  Lay down those limbs, with warfare spent,

  Beneath my laurel; nor be slow

  To drain my cask; for you ’twas meant.

  Lethe’s true draught is Massic wine;

  Fill high the goblet; pour out free

  Rich streams of unguent. Who will twine

  The hasty wreath from myrtle-tree

  Or parsley? Whom will Venus seat

  Chairman of cups? Are Bacchants sane?

  Then I’ll be sober. O, ’tis sweet

  To fool, when friends come home again!

  ODE VIII.

  ULLA SI JURIS.

  Had chastisement for perjured truth,

  Barine, mark’d you with a curse —

  Did one wry nail, or one black tooth,

  But make you worse —

  I’d trust you; but, when plighted lies

  Have pledged you deepest, lovelier far

  You sparkle forth, of all young eyes

  The ruling star.

  ’Tis gain to mock your mother’s bones,

  And night’s still signs, and all the sky,

  And gods, that on their glorious thrones

  Chill Death defy.

  Ay, Venus smiles; the pure nymphs smile,

  And Cupid, tyrant-lord of hearts,

  Sharpening on bloody stone the while

  His fiery darts.

  New captives fill the nets you weave;

  New slaves are bred; and those before,

  Though oft they threaten, never leave

  Your godless door.

  The mother dreads you for her son,

  The thrifty sire, the new-wed bride,

  Lest, lured by you, her precious one

  Should leave her side.

  ODE IX.

  NON SEMPER IMBRES.

  The rain, it rains not every day

  On the soak’d meads; the Caspian main

  Not always feels the unequal sway

  Of storms, nor on Armenia’s plain,

  Dear Valgius, lies the cold dull snow

  Through all the year; nor northwinds keen

  Upon Garganian oakwoods blow,

  And strip the ashes of their green.

  You still with tearful tones pursue

  Your lost, lost Mystes; Hesper sees

  Your passion when he brings the dew,

  And when before the sun he flees.

  Yet not for loved Antilochus

  Grey Nestor wasted all his years

  In grief; nor o’er young Troilus

  His parents’ and his sisters’ tears

  For ever flow’d. At length have done

  With these soft sorrows; rather tell

  Of Caesar’s trophies newly won,

  And hoar Niphates’ icy fell,

  And Medus’ flood, ‘mid conquer’d tribes

  Rolling a less presumptuous tide,

  And Scythians taught, as Rome prescribes,

  Henceforth o’er narrower steppes to ride.

  ODE X.

  RECTIUS VIVES.

  Licinius, trust a seaman’s lore:

  Steer not too boldly to the deep,

  Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shore

  Too closely creep.

  Who makes the golden mean his guide,

  Shuns miser’s cabin, foul and dark,

  Shuns gilded roofs, where pomp and pride

  Are envy’s mark.

  With fiercer blasts the pine’s dim height

  Is rock’d; proud towers with heavier fall

  Crash to the ground; and thunders smite

  The mountains tall.

  In sadness hope, in gladness fear

  ‘Gainst coming change will fortify

  Your breast. The storms that Jupiter

  Sweeps o’er the sky

  He chases. Why should rain to-day

  Bring rain to-morrow? Python’s foe

  Is pleased sometimes his lyre to play,

  Nor bends his bow.

  Be brave in trouble; meet distress

  With dauntless front; but when the gale

  Too prosperous blows, be wise no less,

  And shorten sail.

  ODE XI.

  QUID BELLICOSUS.

  O, Ask not what those sons of war,

  Cantabrian, Scythian, each intend,

  Disjoin’d from us by Hadria’s bar,

  Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spend

  A life so simple. Youth removes,

  And Beauty too; and hoar Decay

  Drives out the wanton tribe of Loves

  And Sleep, that came or night or day.

  The sweet spring-flowers not always keep

  Their bloom, nor moonlight shines the same

  Each evening. Why with thoughts too deep

  O’ertask a mind of mortal frame?

  Why not, just thrown at careless ease

  ‘Neath plane or pine, our locks of grey

  Perfumed with Syrian essences

  And wreathed with roses, while we may,

  Lie drinking? Bacchus puts to shame

  The cares that waste us. Where’s the slave

  To quench the fierce Falernian’s flame

  With water from the passing wave?

  Who’ll coax coy Lyde from her home?

  Go, bid her take her ivory lyre,

  The runaway, and haste to come,

  Her wild hair bound with Spartan tire.

  ODE XII.

  NOLIS LONGA FERAE.

  The weary war where fierce Numantia bled,

  Fell Hannibal, the swoln Sicilian main

  Purpled with Punic blood — not mine to wed

  These to the lyre’s soft strain,

  Nor cruel Lapithae, nor, mad with wine,

  Centaurs, nor, by Herculean arm o’ercome,

  The earth-born youth, whose terrors dimm’d the shine

  Of the resplendent dome

  Of ancient Saturn. You, Maecenas, best

  In pictured prose of Caesar’s warrior feats

  Will tell, and captive kings with haughty crest

  Led through the Roman streets.

  On me the Muse has laid her charge to tell

  Of your Licymnia’s voice, the lustrous hue

  Of her bright eye, her heart that beats so well

  To mutual passion true:

  How nought she does but lends her added grace,

>   Whether she dance, or join in bantering play,

  Or with soft arms the maiden choir embrace

  On great Diana’s day.

  Say, would you change for all the wealth possest

  By rich Achaemenes or Phrygia’s heir,

  Or the full stores of Araby the blest,

  One lock of her dear hair,

  While to your burning lips she bends her neck,

  Or with kind cruelty denies the due

  She means you not to beg for, but to take,

  Or snatches it from you?

  ODE XIII.

  ILLE ET NEFASTO.

  Black day he chose for planting thee,

  Accurst he rear’d thee from the ground,

  The bane of children yet to be,

  The scandal of the village round.

  His father’s throat the monster press’d

  Beside, and on his hearthstone spilt,

  I ween, the blood of midnight guest;

  Black Colchian drugs, whate’er of guilt

  Is hatch’d on earth, he dealt in all —

  Who planted in my rural stead

  Thee, fatal wood, thee, sure to fall

  Upon thy blameless master’s head.

  The dangers of the hour! no thought

  We give them; Punic seaman’s fear

  Is all of Bosporus, nor aught

  Recks he of pitfalls otherwhere;

  The soldier fears the mask’d retreat

  Of Parthia; Parthia dreads the thrall

  Of Rome; but Death with noiseless feet

  Has stolen and will steal on all.

  How near dark Pluto’s court I stood,

  And AEacus’ judicial throne,

  The blest seclusion of the good,

  And Sappho, with sweet lyric moan

  Bewailing her ungentle sex,

  And thee, Alcaeus, louder far

  Chanting thy tale of woful wrecks,

  Of woful exile, woful war!

  In sacred awe the silent dead

  Attend on each: but when the song

  Of combat tells and tyrants fled,

  Keen ears, press’d shoulders, closer throng.

  What marvel, when at those sweet airs

  The hundred-headed beast spell-bound

  Each black ear droops, and Furies’ hairs

  Uncoil their serpents at the sound?

  Prometheus too and Pelops’ sire

 

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