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

by Horace Quintus Horatius Flaccus

  VI

  Quid inmerentis hospites vexas, canis

  ignavos adversum lupos?

  quin huc inanis, si potes, vertis minas

  et me remorsurum petis?

  nam qualis aut Molossus aut fulvos Lacon,

  amica vis pastoribus,

  agam per altas aure sublata nivis

  quaecumque praecedet fera;

  tu, cum timenda voce complesti nemus,

  proiectum odoraris cibum.

  cave, cave, namque in malos asperrimus

  parata tollo cornua,

  qualis Lycambae spretus infido gener

  aut acer hostis Bupalo.

  an si quis atro dente me petiverit,

  inultus ut flebo puer?

  EPODE VI.

  AGAINST CASSIUS SEVERUS.

  O cur, thou coward against wolves, why dost thou persecute innocent strangers? Why do you not, if you can, turn your empty yelpings hither, and attack me, who will bite again? For, like a Molossian, or tawny Laconian dog, that is a friendly assistant to shepherds, I will drive with erected ears through the deep snows every brute that shall go before me. You, when you have filled the grove with your fearful barking, you smell at the food that is thrown to you. Have a care, have a care; for, very bitter against bad men, I exert my ready horns uplift; like him that was rejected as a son-in-law by the perfidious Lycambes, or the sharp enemy of Bupalus. What, if any cur attack me with malignant tooth, shall I, without revenge, blubber like a boy?

  VII

  Quo, quo scelesti ruitis? aut cur dexteris

  aptantur enses conditi?

  parumne campis atque Neptuno super

  fusum est Latini sanguinis,

  non ut superbas invidae Karthaginis

  Romanus arces ureret,

  intactus aut Britannus ut descenderet

  sacra catenatus via,

  sed ut Secundum vota Parthorum sua

  Vrbs haec periret dextera?

  neque hic lupis mos nec fuit leonibus

  umquam nisi in dispar feris.

  furorne caecos an rapit vis acrior

  an culpa? responsum date.

  tacent et albus ora pallor inficit

  mentesque perculsae Stupent.

  sic est: acerba fata Romanos agunt

  scelusque fraternae necis,

  ut inmerentis fluxit in terram Remi

  sacer nepotibus cruor.

  EPODE VII.

  TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.

  Whither, whither, impious men are you rushing? Or why are the swords drawn, that were [so lately] sheathed? Is there too little of Roman blood spilled upon land and sea? [And this,] not that the Romans might burn the proud towers of envious Carthage, or that the Britons, hitherto unassailed, might go down the sacred way bound in chains: but that, agreeably to the wishes of the Parthians, this city may fall by its own might. This custom [of warfare] never obtained even among either wolves or savage lions, unless against a different species. Does blind phrenzy, or your superior valor, or some crime, hurry you on at this rate? Give answer. They are silent: and wan paleness infects their countenances, and their stricken souls are stupefied. This is the case: a cruel fatality and the crime of fratricide have disquieted the Romans, from that time when the blood of the innocent Remus, to be expiated by his descendants, was spilled upon the earth.

  VIII

  Rogare longo putidam te saeculo,

  viris quid enervet meas,

  cum sit tibi dens ater et rugis vetus

  frontem senectus exaret

  hietque turpis inter aridas natis

  podex velut crudae bovis.

  sed incitat me pectus et mammae putres

  equina quales ubera

  venterque mollis et femur tumentibus

  exile suris additum.

  esto beata, funus atque imagines

  ducant triumphales tuom

  nec sit marita, quae rotundioribus

  onusta bacis ambulet.

  quid? quod libelli Stoici inter Sericos

  iacere pulvillos amant,

  inlitterati num minus nervi rigent

  minusve languet fascinum?

  quod ut superbo povoces ab inguine,

  ore adlaborandum est tibi.

  EPODE VIII.

  UPON A WANTON OLD WOMAN.

  Can you, grown rank with lengthened age, ask what unnerves my vigor? When your teeth are black, and old age withers your brow with wrinkles: and your back sinks between your staring hip-bones, like that of an unhealthy cow. But, forsooth! your breast and your fallen chest, full well resembling a broken-backed horse, provoke me; and a body flabby, and feeble knees supported by swollen legs. May you be happy: and may triumphal statues adorn your funeral procession; and may no matron appear in public abounding with richer pearls. What follows, because the Stoic treatises sometimes love to be on silken pillows? Are unlearned constitutions the less robust? Or are their limbs less stout? But for you to raise an appetite, in a stomach that is nice, it is necessary that you exert every art of language.

  IX

  Quando repositum Caecubum ad festas dapes

  victore laetus Caesare

  tecum sub alta — sic Iovi gratum — domo,

  beate Maecenas, bibam

  sonante mixtum tibiis carmen lyra,

  hac Dorium, illis barbarum?

  ut nuper, actus cum freto Neptunius

  dux fugit ustis navibus

  minatus Vrbi vincla, quae detraxerat

  servis amicus perfidis.

  Romanus eheu — posteri negabitis —

  emancipatus feminae

  fert vallum et arma miles et spadonibus

  servire rugosis potest

  interque signa turpe militaria

  sol adspicit conopium.

  ad hunc frementis verterunt bis mille equos

  Galli canentes Caesarem

  hostiliumque navium portu latent

  puppes sinistrorsum citae.

  io Triumphe, tu moraris aureos

  currus et intactas boves?

  io Triumphe, nec Iugurthino parem

  bello reportasti ducem

  neque Africanum, cui super Karthaginem

  virtus Sepulcrum condidit.

  terra marique victus hostis Punico

  lugubre mutavit sagum.

  aut ille centum nobilem Cretam urbibus

  ventis iturus non suis

  exercitatas aut petit Syrtis noto

  aut fertur incerto mari.

  capaciores adfer huc, puer, Scyphos

  et Chia vina aut Lesbia

  vel quod fluentem nauseam coerceat

  metire nobis Caecubum.

  curam metumque Caesaris rerum iuvat

  dulci Lyaeo solvere.

  EPODE IX.

  TO MAECENAS.

  When, O happy Maecenas, shall I, overjoyed at Caesar’s being victorious, drink with you under the stately dome (for so it pleases Jove) the Caecuban reserved for festal entertainments, while the lyre plays a tune, accompanied with flutes, that in the Doric, these in the Phrygian measure? As lately, when the Neptunian admiral, driven from the sea, and his navy burned, fled, after having menaced those chains to Rome, which, like a friend, he had taken off from perfidious slaves. The Roman soldiers (alas! ye, our posterity, will deny the fact), enslaved to a woman, carry palisadoes and arms, and can be subservient to haggard eunuchs; and among the military standards, oh shame! the sun beholds an [Egyptian] canopy. Indignant at this the Gauls turned two thousand of their cavalry, proclaiming Caesar; and the ships of the hostile navy, going off to the left, lie by in port. Hail, god of triumph! Dost thou delay the golden chariots and untouched heifers? Hail, god of triumph! You neither brought back a general equal [to Caesar] from the Jugurthine war; nor from the African [war, him], whose valor raised him a monument over Carthage. Our enemy, overthrown both by land and sea, has changed his purple vestments for mourning. He either seeks Crete, famous for her hundred cities, ready to sail with unfavorable winds; or the Syrtes, harassed by the south; or else is driven
by the uncertain sea. Bring hither, boy, larger bowls, and the Chian or Lesbian wine; or, what may correct this rising qualm of mine, fill me out the Caecuban. It is my pleasure to dissipate care and anxiety for Caesar’s danger with delicious wine.

  X

  Mala soluta navis exit alite

  ferens olentem Mevium.

  ut horridis utrumque verberes latus,

  Auster, memento fluctibus;

  niger rudentis Eurus inverso mari

  fractosque remos differat;

  insurgat Aquilo, quantus altis montibus

  frangit trementis ilics;

  nec sidus atra nocte amicum adpareat,

  qua tristis Orion cadit;

  quietiore nec feratur aequore

  quam Graia victorum manus,

  cum Pallas usto vertit iram ab Ilio

  in inpiam Aiacis ratem.

  o quantus instat navitis sudor tuis

  tibique pallor luteus

  et illa non virilis heiulatio

  preces et aversum ad Iovem,

  Ionius udo cum remugiens sinus

  Noto carinam ruperit

  opima quodsi praeda curvo litore

  porrecta mergos iuverit,

  libidinosus immolabitur caper

  et agna Tempestatibus.

  EPODE X.

  AGAINST MAEVIUS.

  The vessel that carries the loathsome Maevius, makes her departure under an unlucky omen. Be mindful, O south wind, that you buffet it about with horrible billows. May the gloomy east, turning up the sea, disperse its cables and broken oars. Let the north arise as mighty as when be rives the quivering oaks on the lofty mountains; nor let a friendly star appear through the murky night, in which the baleful Orion sets: nor let him be conveyed in a calmer sea, than was the Grecian band of conquerors, when Pallas turned her rage from burned Troy to the ship of impious Ajax. Oh what a sweat is coming upon your sailors, and what a sallow paleness upon you, and that effeminate wailing, and those prayers to unregarding Jupiter; when the Ionian bay, roaring with the tempestuous south-west, shall break your keel. But if, extended along the winding shore, you shall delight the cormorants as a dainty prey, a lascivious he-goat and an ewe-lamb shall be sacrificed to the Tempests.

  XI

  Petti, nihil me sicut antea iuvat

  scribere versiculos amore percussum gravi,

  amore, qui me praeter omnis expetit

  mollibus in pueris aut in puellis urere.

  hic tertius December, ex quo destiti

  Inachia furere, silvis honorem decutit.

  heu me, per Vrbem (nam pudet tanti mali)

  fabula quanta fui, conviviorum et paenitet,

  in quis amantem languor et silentium

  arguit et latere petitus imo spiritus.

  ‘contrane lucrum nil valere candidum

  pauperis ingenium’ querebar adplorans tibi,

  simul calentis inverecundus deus

  fervidiore mero arcana promorat loco.

  ‘quodsi meis inaestuet praecordiis

  libera bilis, ut haec ingrata ventis dividat

  fomenta volnus nil malum levantia,

  desinet inparibus certare submotus pudor.’

  ubi haec severus te palam laudaveram,

  iussus abire domum ferebar incerto pede

  ad non amicos heu mihi postis et heu

  limina dura, quibus lumbos et infregi latus.

  nunc gloriantis quamlibet mulierculam

  vincere mollitia amor Lycisci me tenet;

  unde expedire non amicorum queant

  libera consilia nec contumeliae graves,

  sed alius ardor aut puellae candidae

  aut teretis pueri longam renodantis comam.

  EPODE XI.

  TO PECTIUS.

  It by no means, O Pectius, delights me as heretofore to write Lyric verses, being smitten with cruel love: with love, who takes pleasure to inflame me beyond others, either youths or maidens. This is the third December that has shaken the [leafy] honors from the woods, since I ceased to be mad for Inachia. Ah me! (for I am ashamed of so great a misfortune) what a subject of talk was I throughout the city! I repent too of the entertainments, at which both a languishing and silence and sighs, heaved from the bottom of my breast, discovered the lover. As soon as the indelicate god [Bacchus] by the glowing wine had removed, as I grew warm, the secrets of [my heart] from their repository, I made my complaints, lamenting to you, “Has the fairest genius of a poor man no weight against wealthy lucre? Wherefore, if a generous indignation boil in my breast, insomuch as to disperse to the winds these disagreeable applications, that give no ease to the desperate wound; the shame [of being overcome] ending, shall cease to contest with rivals of such a sort.” When I, with great gravity, had applauded these resolutions in your presence, being ordered to go home, I was carried with a wandering foot to posts, alas! to me not friendly, and alas! obdurate gates, against which I bruised my loins and side. Now my affections for the delicate Lyciscus engross all my time; from them neither the unreserved admonitions, nor the serious reprehensions of other friends can recall me [to my former taste for poetry]; but, perhaps, either a new flame for some fair damsel, or for some graceful youth who binds his long hair in a knot, [may do so].

  XII

  Quid tibi vis, mulier nigris dignissima barris?

  munera quid mihi quidve tabellas

  mittis nec firmo iuveni neque naris obesae?

  namque sagacius unus odoror,

  polypus an gravis hirsutis cubet hircus in alis

  quam canis acer ubi lateat sus.

  qui sudor vietis et quam malus undique membris

  crescit odor, cum pene Soluto

  indomitam properat rabiem sedare, neque illi

  iam manet umida creta colorque

  stercore fucatus crocodili iamque Subando

  tenta cubilia tectaque rumpit.

  vel mea cum saevis agitat fastidia verbis:

  ‘Inachia langues minus ac me;

  Inachiam ter nocte potes, mihi Semper ad unum

  mollis opus. pereat male quae te

  Lesbia quaerenti taurum monstravit inertem.

  cum mihi Cous adesset Amyntas,

  cuius in indomito constantior inguine nervos

  quam nova collibus arbor inhaeret.

  muricibus Tyriis iteratae vellera lanae

  cui properabantur? tibi nempe,

  ne foret aequalis inter conviva, magis quem

  diligeret mulier sua quam te.

  o ego non felix, quam tu fugis, ut pavet acris

  agna lupos capreaeque leones!’

  EPODE XII.

  TO A WOMAN WHOSE CHARMS WERE OVER.

  What would you be at, you woman fitter for the swarthy monsters? Why do you send tokens, why billet-doux to me, and not to some vigorous youth, and of a taste not nice? For I am one who discerns a polypus, or fetid ramminess, however concealed, more quickly than the keenest dog the covert of the boar. What sweatiness, and how rank an odor every where rises from her withered limbs! when she strives to lay her furious rage with impossibilities; now she has no longer the advantage of moist cosmetics, and her color appears as if stained with crocodile’s ordure; and now, in wild impetuosity, she tears her bed, bedding, and all she has. She attacks even my loathings in the most angry terms:— “You are always less dull with Inachia than me: in her company you are threefold complaisance; but you are ever unprepared to oblige me in a single instance. Lesbia, who first recommended you — so unfit a help in time of need — may she come to an ill end! when Coan Amyntas paid me his addresses; who is ever as constant in his fair one’s service, as the young tree to the hill it grows on. For whom were labored the fleeces of the richest Tyrian dye? For you? Even so that there was not one in company, among gentlemen of your own rank, whom his own wife admired preferably to you: oh, unhappy me, whom you fly, as the lamb dreads the fierce wolves, or the she-goats the lions!”