Quintus Horatius Flaccus

“ Ay, dead is Pelops' father, heaven's own guest,
And old Tithonus, rapt from earth to sky,
And Minos, made the council-friend of Jove;
⁠And Panthus' son has yielded up his breath
Once more, though down he pluck'd the shield, to prove
⁠His prowess under Troy, and bade grim death
O'er skin and nerves alone exert its power,
⁠Not he, you grant, in nature meanly read.
Yes, all "await the inevitable hour;"
⁠The downward journey all one day must tread. ”

“ Nine to three or three to nine,
As each man pleases, makes proportion true.
Who the uneven Muses loves,
Will fire his dizzy brain with three times three;
Three once told the Grace approves;
She with her two bright sisters, gay and free,
Shrinks, as maiden should, from strife:
But I'm for madness. What has dull'd the fire
Of the Berecyntian fife?
Why hangs the flute in silence with the lyre?
Out on niggard-handed boys!
Bain showers of roses; let old Lycus hear,
Envious churl, our senseless noise,
And she, our neighbour, his ill-sorted fere. ”

“ THE gods have heard, the gods have heard my prayer;
Yes, Lyce! you are growing old, and still
You struggle to look fair;
You drink, and dance, and trill
Your songs to youthful Love, in accents weak
With wine, and age, and passion. Youthful Love!
He dwells in Chia's cheek,
And hears her harp-strings move.
Rude boy, he flies like lightning o'er the heath
Past wither'd trees like you; you're wrinkled now ”

“ And the troubles man is heir to thus are quell'd,
and only thus.
Who can talk of want or warfare when the wine is
in his head,
Not of thee, good father Bacchus, and of Venus
fair and bright?
But should any dream of licence, there's a lesson
may be read,
How 'twas wine that drove the Centaurs with
the Lapithæ to fights
And the Thracians too may warn us; truth and
falsehood, good and ill,
How they mix them, when the wine-god's hand
is heavy on them laid!
Never, never, gracious Bacchus, may I move thee
'gainst thy will,
Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy
shade! ”

“ Purpled with Punic blood—not mine to wed
⁠These to the lyre's soft strain,
Nor cruel Lapithæ, 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. ”

“ THE snow is fled: the trees their leaves put on,
⁠The fields their green:
Earth owns the change, and rivers lessening run
⁠Their banks between.
Naked the Nymphs and Graces in the meads
⁠The dance essay:
"No 'scaping death" proclaims the year, that speeds
⁠This sweet spring day.
Frosts yield to zephyrs; Summer drives out Spring,
⁠To vanish, when
Rich Autumn sheds his fruits; round wheels the ring,—
⁠Winter again!
Yet the swift moons repair Heaven's detriment:
⁠We, soon as thrust
Where good Æneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
⁠What are we? dust. ”

“ Him shall never fiery steed
Draw in Achæan car a conqueror seated;
Him shall never martial deed
Show, crown'd with bay, after proud kings defeated,
Climbing Capitolian steep:
But the cool streams that make green Tibur flourish,
And the tangled forest deep,
On soft Æolian airs his fame shall nourish. ”

“ No, though more suasive than the bard of Thrace
You swept the lyre that trees were fain to hear,
Ne'er should the blood revisit his pale face
Whom once with wand severe
Mercury has folded with the sons of night,
Untaught to prayer Fate's prison to unseal.
Ah, heavy grief! but patience makes more light
What sorrow may not heal. ”

“ In deathless pride of victory live,
And dower them with a nobler meed
Than sculptors give,
Or mourn the bridegroom early torn
From his young bride, and set on high
Strength, courage, virtue's golden morn,
Too good to die. ”

“ To image now a mortal, now a god.
But these are not my riches: your desire
Such luxury craves not, and your means disdain:
A poet's strain you love; a poet's strain
Accept, and learn the value of the lyre. ”

“ Our wives and children at our side,
First paying Heaven the prayers we owe,
Shall sing of chiefs whose deeds are done,
As wont our sires, to flute or shell,
And Troy, Anchises, and the son
Of Venus on our tongues shall dwell. ”

“ Those snowwhite shoulders scarr'd in drunken fray,
⁠Or those ruby lips, where he
Has left strange marks, that show how rough his play!
⁠Never, never look to find
A faithful heart in him whose rage can harm
⁠Sweetest lips, which Venus kind
Has tinctured with her quintessential charm.
⁠Happy, happy, happy they
Whose living love, untroubled by all strife,
⁠Binds them till the last sad day,
Nor parts asunder but with parting life! ”

“ And, bright-hair'd Chloe spurning,
Horace to off-cast Lydia ope his door?
L.Though he is fairer, milder,
Than starlight, you lighter than bark of tree,
Than stormy Hadria wilder,
With you to live, to die, were bliss for me. ”

“ And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep:
"Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind,
There let us go, my own, my gallant crew.
'Tis Teucer leads, 'tis Teucer breathes the wind;
No more despair; Apollo's word is true. ”

“ FEW roods of ground the piles we raise
Will leave to plough; ponds wider spread
Than Lucrine lake will meet the gaze
On every side; the plane unwed
Will top the elm; the violet -bed,
The myrtle, each delicious sweet,
On olive-grounds their scent will shed,
Where once were fruit-trees yielding meat ”

“ GRANDSON of Atlas, wise of tongue,
⁠O Mercury, whose wit could tame
Man's savage youth by power of song
⁠And plastic game!
Thee sing I, herald of the sky,
⁠Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet,
Hiding whate'er might please thine eye
⁠In frolic cheat. ”

“ To Pholoe's frown; but sooner gentle roes
Apulian wolves shall wed,
Than Pholoe to so mean a conqueror strike:
So Venus wills it; 'neath her brazen yoke
She loves to couple forms and minds unlike,
All for a heartless joke. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Fair Tibur, town of Argive kings,
⁠There would I end my days serene,
At rest from seas and travellings,
⁠And service seen.
Should angry Fate those wishes foil,
⁠Then let me seek Galesus, sweet
To skin-clad sheep, and that rich soil,
⁠The Spartan's seat. ”

“ 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 Borne; but Death with noiseless feet
Has stolen and will steal on all. ”

“ But mother Chloris what she touches mars.
⁠Young men's homes your daughter storms,
Like Thyiad, madden'd by the cymbals' beat:
⁠Nothus' love her bosom warms:
She gambols like a fawn with silver feet. ”

“ Who once to faithless foes has knelt;
Yes, Carthage yet his spear will fly,
Who with bound arms the cord has felt,
The coward, and has fear'd to die.
He knows not, he, how life is won;
Thinks war, like peace, a thing of trade! ”

“ 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. ”

“ AND now 'tis done: more durable than brass
My monument shall be, and raise its head
O'er royal pyramids: it shall not dread
Corroding rain or angry Boreas,
Nor the long lapse of immemorial time.
I shall not wholly die: large residue
Shall 'scape the queen of funerals. ”

“ O, ask not what the morn will bring,
⁠But count as gain each day that chance
May give you; sport in life's young spring,
⁠Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,
While years are green, while sullen eld
⁠Is distant. ”

“ Of slaughter'd swine, and spice, and corn,
Ne'er shall Scirocco's bane assail
Your vines, nor mildew blast your wheat,
Ne'er shall your tender younglings fail
In autumn, when the fruits are sweet. ”

“ All o'er the grass the cattle play;
The village, with the lazy steer,
Keeps holyday.
Wolves rove among the fearless sheep;
The woods for thee their foliage strow;
The delver loves on earth to leap,
His ancient foe. ”

“ 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. ”

“ True Virtue never knows defeat:
⁠Her robes she keeps unsullied still,
Nor takes, nor quits, her curule seat
⁠To please a people's veering will.
True Virtue opens heaven to worth:
⁠She makes the way she does not find:
The vulgar crowd, the humid earth,
⁠Her soaring pinion leaves behind. ”

“ 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? ”

“ One to the people's choice commends;
One boasts a more unsullied fame;
One plumes him on a larger crowd
Of clients. What are great or small?
Death takes the mean man with the proud;
The fatal urn has room for all. ”

“ Of the Parthian, bold in flight,
Nor Scythian hordes, nor aught that breaks her spell.
Heap the grassy altar up,
Bring vervain, boys, and sacred frankincense;
Fill the sacrificial cup;
A victim's blood will soothe her vehemence. ”

“ Versed, or with whip and rein, should need require,
⁠No laggard. Merion too your eyes shall know
From far. Tydides, fiercer than his sire,
⁠Pursues you, all aglow;
Him, as the stag forgets to graze for fright,
⁠Seeing the wolf at distance in the glade,
And flies, high panting, you shall fly, despite
⁠Boasts to your leman made.
What though Achilles' wrathful fleet postpone
⁠The day of doom to Troy and Troy's proud dames,
Her towers shall fall, the number'd winters flown,
⁠Wrapp'd in Achæan flames. ”

“ XIII.
O fons Bandusiæ
BANDUSIA'S fount, in clearness crystalline,
O worthy of the wine, the flowers we vow!
To-morrow shall be thine
A kid, whose crescent brow
Is sprouting all for love and victory. ”

“ 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 ”

“ Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame
And Tityos in his watery ring,
That circling flood, which all must stem,
Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,
Wearers of haughtiest diadem,
Or humblest tillers of the fields. ”

“ With fume and fret," she cried, "my fair;
That odious bull will give you soon
His horns to tear.
You know not you are Jove's own dame:
Away with sobbing; be resign'd
To greatness: you shall give your name
To half mankind." ”

“ Where Jove descends in sleety rain
⁠Or sullen freezes;
Place me where none can live for heat,
⁠'Neath Phœbus' very chariot plant me,
That smile so sweet, that voice so sweet,
⁠Shall still enchant me. ”

“ Sing Tempe too, glad youths, in strain as loud,
⁠And Phœbus' birthplace, and that shoulder fair,
⁠His golden quiver proud
⁠And brother's lyre to bear.
His arm shall banish Hunger, Plague, and War
⁠To Persia and to Britain's coast, away
⁠From Borne and Cæsar far,
⁠If you have zeal to pray. ”

“ 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. ”

“ The Delian and the Pataran both.
Strength, mindless, falls by its own weight;
Strength, mix'd with mind, is made more strong
By the just gods, who surely hate
The strength whose thoughts are set on wrong. ”

“ THE man of firm and righteous will,
No rabble, clamorous for the wrong,
No tyrant's brow, whose frown may kill,
⁠Can shake the strength that makes him strong:
Not winds, that chafe the sea they sway,
⁠Nor Jove's right hand, with lightning red:
Should Nature's pillar'd frame give way,
⁠That wreck would strike one fearless head. ”

“ 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 ”

“ Nor savage wolves, of Mars' own breed,
My Tyndaris, while Ustica's dell
Is vocal with the silvan reed,
And music thrills the limestone fell.
Heaven is my guardian; Heaven approves
A blameless life, by song made sweet ”

“ Send on Eastern foes
Their fear, and on the Red Sea strand!
O wounds that scarce have ceased to run!
O brother's blood! O iron time!
What horror have we left undone?
Has conscience shrunk from aught of crime? ”

“ Blest in your Dian's guardian smile,
⁠Whose shafts the flying silvans stay,
Come, foot the Lesbian measure, while
⁠The lyre I play:
Sing of Latona's glorious boy,
⁠Sing of night's queen with crescent born.
Who wings the fleeting months with joy,
⁠And swells the corn. ”

“ Desiring less, I better shall increase
My tiny revenues,
Than if to Alyattes' wide domains
I join'd the realms of Mygdon. Great desires
Sort with great wants. 'Tis best, when prayer obtains
No more than life requires. ”