XVI
O matre pulchra filia pulchrior,
quem criminosis cumque uoles modum
pones iambis, siue flamma
siue mari libet Hadriano.
Non Dindymene, non adytis quatit 5
mentem sacerdotum incola Pythius,
non Liber aeque, non acuta
sic geminant Corybantes aera,
tristes ut irae, quas neque Noricus
deterret ensis nec mare naufragum 10
nec saeuus ignis nec tremendo
Iuppiter ipse ruens tumultu.
Fertur Prometheus addere principi
limo coactus particulam undique
desectam et insani leonis
uim stomacho apposuisse nostro. 15
Irae Thyesten exitio graui
strauere et altis urbibus ultimae
stetere causae, cur perirent
funditus inprimeretque muris 20
hostile aratrum exercitus insolens.
Conpesce mentem: me quoque pectoris
temptauit in dulci iuuenta
feruor et in celeres iambos
misit furentem. Nunc ego mitibus 25
mutare quaero tristia, dum mihi
fias recantatis amica
opprobriis animumque reddas.
ODE XVI.
TO A YOUNG LADY HORACE HAD OFFENDED.
O daughter, more charming than your charming mother, put what end you please to my insulting iambics; either in the flames, or, if you choose it, in the Adriatic. Nor Cybele, nor Apollo, the dweller in the shrines, so shakes the breast of his priests; Bacchus does not do it equally, nor do the Corybantes so redouble their strokes on the sharp-sounding cymbals, as direful anger; which neither the Noric sword can deter, nor the shipwrecking sea, nor dreadful fire, not Jupiter himself rushing down with awful crash. It is reported that Prometheus was obliged to add to that original clay [with which he formed mankind], some ingredient taken from every animal, and that he applied the vehemence of the raging lion to the human breast. It was rage that destroyed Thyestes with horrible perdition; and has been the final cause that lofty cities have been entirely demolished, and that an insolent army has driven the hostile plowshare over their walls. Compose your mind. An ardor of soul attacked me also in blooming youth, and drove me in a rage to the writing of swift-footed iambics. Now I am desirous of exchanging severity for good nature, provided that you will become my friend, after my having recanted my abuse, and restore me your affections.
XVII
Velox amoenum saepe Lucretilem
mutat Lycaeo Faunus et igneam
defendit aestatem capellis
usque meis pluuiosque uentos.
Inpune tutum per nemus arbutos 5
quaerunt latentis et thyma deuiae
olentis uxores mariti
nec uiridis metuunt colubras
nec Martialis haediliae lupos,
utcumque dulci, Tyndari, fistula 10
ualles et Vsticae cubantis
leuia personuere saxa.
Di me tuentur, dis pietas mea
et Musa cordi est. Hic tibi copia
manabit ad plenum benigno
ruris honorum opulenta cornu; 15
hic in reducta ualle Caniculae
uitabis aestus et fide Teia
dices laborantis in uno
Penelopen uitreamque Circen; 20
hic innocentis pocula Lesbii
duces sub umbra nec Semeleius
cum Marte confundet Thyoneus
proelia nec metues proteruum
suspecta Cyrum, ne male dispari 25
incontinentis iniciat manus
et scindat haerentem coronam
crinibus inmeritamque uestem.
ODE XVII.
TO TYNDARIS.
The nimble Faunus often exchanges the Lycaean mountain for the pleasant Lucretilis, and always defends my she-goats from the scorching summer, and the rainy winds. The wandering wives of the unsavory husband seek the hidden strawberry-trees and thyme with security through the safe grove: nor do the kids dread the green lizards, or the wolves sacred to Mars; whenever, my Tyndaris, the vales and the smooth rocks of the sloping Ustica have resounded with his melodious pipe. The gods are my protectors. My piety and my muse are agreeable to the gods. Here plenty, rich with rural honors, shall flow to you, with her generous horn filled to the brim. Here, in a sequestered vale, you shall avoid the heat of the dog-star; and, on your Anacreontic harp, sing of Penelope and the frail Circe striving for one lover; here you shall quaff, under the shade, cups of unintoxicating Lesbian. Nor shall the raging son of Semele enter the combat with Mars; and unsuspected you shall not fear the insolent Cyrus, lest he should savagely lay his intemperate hands on you, who are by no means a match for him; and should rend the chaplet that is platted in your hair, and your inoffensive garment.
XVIII
Nullam, Vare, sacra uite prius seueris arborem
circa mite solum Tiburis et moenia Catili;
siccis omnia nam dura deus proposuit neque
mordaces aliter diffugiunt sollicitudines.
Quis post uina grauem militiam aut pauperiem crepat? 5
Quis non te potius, Bacche pater, teque decens Venus?
Ac ne quis modici transiliat munera Liberi,
Centaurea monet cum Lapithis rixa super mero
debellata, monet Sithoniis non leuis Euhius,
cum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum 10
discernunt auidi. Non ego te, candide Bassareu,
inuitum quatiam nec uariis obsita frondibus
sub diuum rapiam. Saeua tene cum Berecyntio
cornu tympana, quae subsequitur caecus amor sui
et tollens uacuum plus nimio gloria uerticem 15
arcanique fides prodiga, perlucidior uitro.
ODE XVIII.
TO VARUS.
O Varus, you can plant no tree preferable to the sacred vine, about the mellow soil of Tibur, and the walls of Catilus. For God hath rendered every thing cross to the sober; nor do biting cares disperse any otherwise [than by the use of wine]. Who, after wine, complains of the hardships of war or of poverty? Who does not rather [celebrate] thee, Father Bacchus, and thee, comely Venus? Nevertheless, the battle of the Centaurs with the Lapithae, which was fought in their cups, admonishes us not to exceed a moderate use of the gifts of Bacchus. And Bacchus himself admonishes us in his severity to the Thracians; when greedy to satisfy their lusts, they make little distinction between right and wrong. O beauteous Bacchus, I will not rouse thee against thy will, nor will I hurry abroad thy [mysteries, which are] covered with various leaves. Cease your dire cymbals, together with your Phrygian horn, whose followers are blind Self-love and Arrogance, holding up too high her empty head, and the Faith communicative of secrets, and more transparent than glass.
XIX
Mater saeua Cupidinum
Thebanaeque iubet me Semelae puer
et lasciua Licentia
finitis animum reddere amoribus.
Vrit me Glycerae nitor 5
splendentis Pario marmore purius;
urit grata proteruitas
et uoltus nimium lubricus aspici.
In me tota ruens Venus
Cyprum deseruit, nec patitur Scythas 10
aut uersis animosum equis
Parthum dicere nec quae nihil attinent.
Hic uiuum mihi caespitem, hic
uerbenas, pueri, ponite turaque
bimi cum patera meri:
mactata ueniet lenior hostia. 15
ODE XIX.
TO GLYCERA.
The cruel mother of the Cupids, and the son of the Theban Gemele, and lascivious ease, command me to give back my mind to its deserted loves. The splendor of Glycera, shining brighter than the Parian marble, inflames me: her agreeable petulance, and her countenance, too unsteady to be beheld, inflame me. Venus, rushing on me with her whole force, has quitted Cyprus; and suffers me not to sing of the Scythians, and the Parthian, furious when his horse is turned for flig
ht, or any subject which is not to the present purpose. Here, slaves, place me a live turf; here, place me vervains and frankincense, with a flagon of two-year-old wine. She will approach more propitious, after a victim has been sacrificed.
XX
Vile potabis modicis Sabinum
cantharis, Graeca quod ego ipse testa
conditum leui, datus in theatro
cum tibi plausus,
care Maecenas eques, ut paterni 5
fluminis ripae simul et iocosa
redderet laudes tibi Vaticani
montis imago.
Caecubum et prelo domitam Caleno
tu bibes uuam; mea nec Falernae 10
temperant uites neque Formiani
pocula colles.
ODE XX.
TO MAECENAS.
My dear knight Maecenas, you shall drink [at my house] ignoble Sabine wine in sober cups, which I myself sealed up in the Grecian cask, stored at the time, when so loud an applause was given to you in the amphitheatre, that the banks of your ancestral river, together with the cheerful echo of the Vatican mountain, returned your praises. You [when you are at home] will drink the Caecuban, and the grape which is squeezed in the Calenian press; but neither the Falernian vines, nor the Formian hills, season my cups.
XXI
Dianam tenerae dicite uirgines,
intonsum, pueri, dicite Cynthium
Latonamque supremo
dilectam penitus Ioui;
uos laetam fluuiis et nemorum coma, 5
quaecumque aut gelido prominet Algido,
nigris aut Erymanthi
siluis aut uiridis Gragi;
uos Tempe totidem tollite laudibus
natalemque, mares, Delon Apollinis 10
insignemque pharetra
fraternaque umerum lyra.
Hic bellum lacrimosum, hic miseram famem
pestemque a populo et principe Caesare in
Persas atque Britannos
uestra motus aget prece. 15
ODE XXI.
ON DIANA AND APOLLO.
Ye tender virgins, sing Diana; ye boys, sing Apollo with his unshorn hair, and Latona passionately beloved by the supreme Jupiter. Ye (virgins), praise her that rejoices in the rivers, and the thick groves, which project either from the cold Algidus, or the gloomy woods of Erymanthus, or the green Cragus. Ye boys, extol with equal praises Apollo’s Delos, and his shoulder adorned with a quiver, and with his brother Mercury’s lyre. He, moved by your intercession, shall drive away calamitous war, and miserable famine, and the plague from the Roman people and their sovereign Caesar, to the Persians and the Britons.
XXII
Integer uitae scelerisque purus
non eget Mauris iaculis neque arcu
nec uenenatis grauida sagittis,
Fusce, pharetra,
siue per Syrtis iter aestuosas 5
siue facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum uel quae loca fabulosus
lambit Hydaspes.
Namque me silua lupus in Sabina,
dum meam canto Lalagem et ultra 10
terminum curis uagor expeditis,
fugit inermem,
quale portentum neque militaris
Daunias latis alit aesculetis
nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum 15
arida nutrix.
Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
arbor aestiua recreatur aura,
quod latus mundi nebulae malusque
Iuppiter urget; 20
pone sub curru nimium propinqui
solis in terra domibus negata:
dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
dulce loquentem.
ODE XXII.
TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS.
The man of upright life and pure from wickedness, O Fuscus, has no need of the Moorish javelins, or bow, or quiver loaded with poisoned darts. Whether he is about to make his journey through the sultry Syrtes, or the inhospitable Caucasus, or those places which Hydaspes, celebrated in story, washes. For lately, as I was singing my Lalage, and wandered beyond my usual bounds, devoid of care, a wolf in the Sabine wood fled from me, though I was unarmed: such a monster as neither the warlike Apulia nourishes in its extensive woods, nor the land of Juba, the dry-nurse of lions, produces. Place me in those barren plains, where no tree is refreshed by the genial air; at that part of the world, which clouds and an inclement atmosphere infest. Place me under the chariot of the too neighboring sun, in a land deprived of habitations; [there] will I love my sweetly-smiling, sweetly-speaking Lalage.
XXIII
Vitas inuleo me similis, Chloe,
quaerenti pauidam montibus auiis
matrem non sine uano
aurarum et siluae metu.
Nam seu mobilibus ueris inhorruit 5
aduentus folliis, seu uirides rubum
dimouere lacertae,
et corde et genibus tremit.
Atqui non ego te, tigris ut aspera
Gaetulusue leo, frangere persequor: 10
tandem desine matrem
tempestiua sequi uiro.
ODE XXIII.
TO CHLOE.
You shun me, Chloe, like a fawn that is seeking its timorous mother in the pathless mountains, not without a vain dread of the breezes and the thickets: for she trembles both in her heart and knees, whether the arrival of the spring has terrified by its rustling leaves, or the green lizards have stirred the bush. But I do not follow you, like a savage tigress, or a Gaetulian lion, to tear you to pieces. Therefore, quit your mother, now that you are mature for a husband.
XXIV
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
tam cari capitis? Praecipe lugubris
cantus, Melpomene, cui liquidam pater
uocem cum cithara dedit.
Ergo Quintilium perpetuus sopor 5
urget? Cui Pudor et Iustitiae soror,
incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas
quando ullum inueniet parem?
Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,
nulli flebilior quam tibi, Vergili. 10
Tu frustra pius, heu, non ita creditum
poscis Quintilium deos.
Quid si Threicio blandius Orpheo
auditam moderere arboribus fidem?
Num uanae redeat sanguis imagini, 15
quam uirga semel horrida,
non lenis precibus fata recludere,
nigro compulerit Mercurius gregi?
durum: sed leuius fit patientia
quicquid corrigere est nefas. 20
ODE XXIV.
TO VIRGIL.
What shame or bound can there be to our affectionate regret for so dear a person? O Melpomene, on whom your father has bestowed a clear voice and the harp, teach me the mournful strains. Does then perpetual sleep oppress Quinctilius? To whom when will modesty, and uncorrupt faith the sister of Justice, and undisguised truth, find any equal? He died lamented by many good men, but more lamented by none than by you, my Virgil. You, though pious, alas! in vain demand Quinctilius back from the gods, who did not lend him to us on such terms. What, though you could strike the lyre, listened to by the trees, with more sweetness than the Thracian Orpheus; yet the blood can never return to the empty shade, which Mercury, inexorable to reverse the fates, has with his dreadful Caduceus once driven to the gloomy throng. This is hard: but what it is out of our power to amend, becomes more supportable by patience.
XXV
Parcius iunctas quatiunt fenestras
iactibus crebris iuuenes proterui
nec tibi somnos adimunt amatque
ianua limen,
quae prius multum facilis mouebat 5
cardines. Audis minus et minus iam:
‘Me tuo longas pereunte noctes,
Lydia, dormis?’
Inuicem moechos anus arrogantis
flebis in solo leuis angiportu 10
Complete Works of Horace (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics) Page 77