Monday, February 28, 2011

Horace, Ode 1.2

Iam satis terris nivis atqque dirae

grandinis misit pater et rubente

dextera sacras iaculatus arcis,

terruit urbem,

terruit gentis, grave ne rediret

saeculum Pyrrhae nova monstra questae,

omne cum Proteus pecus egit altos

visere montis,

piscinum et summa genus haesit ulmo,

nota quae sedes fuerat columbis,

et superiecto pavidae natarunt

aequore dammae;

vidimus flavom Tiberim retoris

litore Etrusco violenter undis

ire deiectum monument regis

templaque Vestae,

Iliae dum se nimium querenti

iactat ultorem, vagus et sinistra

labitur ripa Iove non probante u-

xorius amnis;

audiet civis acuisse ferrum,

quo graves Persae melius perirent,

audiet pugnas vitio parentum

rara iuventus.

Quem vocet divum populus ruentis

imperi rebus? prece qua fatigent

virgines sanctae minus audientem

carmina Vestam?

cui dabat partis scelus expiandi

Iuppiter? Tandem venias precamur

nube candentis umeros amictus

augur Apollo;

sive tu mavis, Erycina ridens,

quam Iocus circum volat et Cupido;

sive neglectum genus et nepotes

respicis auctor,

heu nimis longo satiate ludo,

quem iuvat clamor galaeque leves

acer et Marsi peditis cruentem

voltus in hostem;

sive mutata iuvenem figura

ales in terris imitaris almae

filius Maiae patiens vocari

Caesaris ultor,

serus in caelum redeas diuque

laetus intersis populo Quirini

neve te nostris vitiis iniquum

ocior aura

tollat: hic magnos potius triumphos,

hic ames dici pater atque princeps,

neu sinas Medos equitare inultos

te duce, Caesar.

Now Father Jupiter has sent enough

awful snow and hail and with his

glowing right hand striking the sacred hills

he frightened the city,

he frightened mankind, lest the heavy age

of Pyrrha complaining about a new sign returns,

when Proteus drove the whole herd to

visit the mountains,

a kind of fish stick to the highest elm,

which had been the known seat for doves,

and the fearful does swim in the sea

spread over the earth.

We have seen the yellow Tibur, with the

waves violently flung back to the Etruscan shore,

to go to overthrow the monuments of the king

and the temples of Vesta,

while with Ilia complaining too much

he throws the avenger, and the wandering one

slips from the left bank, with Jove not approving

of the wife-loving river.

He will hear the citizens sharpening the swords,

with which it would be better if serious Persians die,

the youth fewer by the fault of their parents

will hear battles.

Which god will the people call with affairs

of power falling? With which prayer will the

sacred virgins weary Vesta listening to

songs less?

To whom will Jupiter give the role of atoning

our crimes? May you come at last, we pray,

your shining shoulders covered in a cloud,

augur Apollo;

or if you prefer, laughing lady of Eryx,

about whom Jocus and Cupid fly;

or if you look back at the neglected descendants

and grandsons, founder,

alas satisfied with a too long game,

whom the sharp battle cry pleases and

light helmets and the fierce face to the Marsian foot-soldier

against a bloodied enemy;

or if you will imitate with your shape change

a youth on earth, son of Maia,

suffering to be called the

avenger of Caesar:

may you return to heaven late, and happily

be long among the Roman

and may you not in disgust at our crimes, raise yourself up

on too swift a breeze;

Here may you love, rather, great triumphs

here, to be called father and chief,

and may you not allow the unvanquished Parthians

to prance while you are leader, Caesar.

Horace, Ode 1.1

Maecenas atauis edite regibus,
o et praesidium et dulce decus meum,
sunt quos curriculo puluerem Olympicum
collegisse iuuat metaque feruidis
euitata rotis palmaque nobilis
terrarum dominos euehit ad deos;
hunc, si mobilium turba Quiritium
certat tergeminis tollere honoribus;
illum, si proprio condidit horreo
quicquid de Libycis uerritur areis.
Gaudentem patrios findere sarculo
agros Attalicis condicionibus
numquam demoueas, ut trabe Cypria
Myrtoum pauidus nauta secet mare.
Luctantem Icariis fluctibus Africum
mercator metuens otium et oppidi
laudat rura sui; mox reficit rates
quassas, indocilis pauperiem pati.
Est qui nec ueteris pocula Massici
nec partem solido demere de die
spernit, nunc uiridi membra sub arbuto
stratus, nunc ad aquae lene caput sacrae.
Multos castra iuuant et lituo tubae
permixtus sonitus bellaque matribus
detestata. Manet sub Ioue frigido
uenator tenerae coniugis inmemor,
seu uisa est catulis cerua fidelibus,
seu rupit teretis Marsus aper plagas.
Me doctarum hederae praemia frontium
dis miscent superis, me gelidum nemus
Nympharumque leues cum Satyris chori
secernunt populo, si neque tibias
Euterpe cohibet nec Polyhymnia
Lesboum refugit tendere barbiton.
Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres,
sublimi feriam sidera uertice.

Maecenas having been put forth from kingly ancestors,
oh my sweet glory and my defence,
there are those whom it pleases him to collect Olympic
dust in a chariot, and whom the turning post having been
avoided by burning wheels and the noble palm lifts up
to the gods those who are lords of the earth;
it pleases this one if the mob of fickle Romans
strives to raise him with threefold honors, ;
it pleases that one if he has stored away in his own storehouse
whatever is swept from Lybian threshing floors.
Rejoicing to split from the fatherland fields with
a hoe, you could never dislodge him, even on
the terms of an Attalis, so that with
a Cyprian tree trunk a fearful sailor might cleave the Myrtoum sea.
The trader fearing Africus wrestling with the waves of Icarus;
he praises the leisure and farm of his hometown;
soon he repairs the shaking rafts untrained to suffer poverty.
He is he who never turns away the drinks of old Massicus
nor to remove the part from a solid day,
now having spread his limbs under a green tree,
now at the soft head of a sacred fountain.
The camps please many and war is detested by mothers.
The hunter forgetful of his young spouse
remains under cold Jupiter whether a deer has been
seen by his faithful dog or a Marsian boar has broken the nets.
Ivy mix me with the gods above,
the cool grove and the light chorus of the Nymphs
with the Satyrs divides me from the people,
if neither Euterpe withholds flutes nor
Polyhymnia refuses to stretch out on Lesbian lyre.
For if you insert me among the lyric poets,
I shall stroke the stars with my high head.

Horace, Epode 17

Now, now I give my hands over to your effective knowledge,
and, kneeling, I beg on the power of Proserpina,
and the unshakeable godheads of Diana,
and having unfixed and called down the
stars from heaven by books of powerful songs,
Canidia, at last hold back your sacred words
and release back your fast turbo.
Telephus moved the grandson of Nereus
against whom the haughty one arranged the Mysons
and against whom he had hurled the sharpened spears.
The Trojan mothers anointed homicidal Hector
doomed to the wild birds and wild dogs,
after which the king having abandon the walls fell
alas to the feet of stubborn Achilles.
The oarsmen of long-suffering Ulysses laid bare
their briefly limbs from the hard hides with Circe willing
then the mind and speech returned and even
familiar horror to their faces.
I gave enough and more punishment to you,
beloved by many sailors and peddlers.
Youth flees and modest color abandons the
bones having been clothed with sallow skin,
your hair is white from your perfume,
no leisure frees me from labor;
night presses on day, and day presses on night,
it is not possible to alleviate my chest stretched with sighing.
I, wretched, am compelled to believe what I once denied,
Sabine songs strike my chest and
Marsian incantations split my head.
What more do oyou want? Oh sea and earth,
I burn as much as Hercules smeared
with the black blood of Nessus didn't burn,
glowing Sicilian flames green in Etna,
You, until the dry ashes are carried off by wrongful wind,
burn hot as a forge from Colchian poison.
Which end or which tax remains with me?
Speak! I will faithfully suffer punishment you ordered,
prepared to atone, whether you will demand one hundred
young bulls, or if you wish to be sung of on a lying lyre:
"You chaste, you honest girl will walk about in
the stars as a constellation of gold."
Castor and the brother of great Castor
having been offended by the exchange of infamous Helen having been conquered by prayer,
returned the withdrawn lights to the prophet:
And you - for you are able - release me from madness,
oh neither fall into disuse from parents
nor int he grave of a pauper does a prudent
old woman scatter dust on the ninth day.
For in you is a hospitable heart and pure hands
and Pactumeius is your belly
and the midwife washes the red cloths in your blood,
and just as you sprang up a strong childbearer,
"Why do you pour prayers into fastened ears?
Wintery Neptune did not pound with deep sea rocks more deaf than bare sailors.
So that unpunished you could mock the Cotyttian rites, more sacred than Cupid,
and a priest of Esquiline fills the town with talk of me, and go unpunished?

What use would it have been enriching all those old

Paelignian hags, to concoct swifter poisons?

But a slower fate awaits you than you pray for:

Wretch, you must suffer a wearisome life for this,

And be available always for fresh torment.

Tantalus, faithless Pelop’s father, yearns for rest,

Forever longing to reach the plenteous feast:

Prometheus yearns, chained fast to the bird of prey:

Sisyphus yearns to roll his rock to the mountain

Summit: but the laws of Jupiter restrain them.

You’ll be eager to leap from the highest tower,

To pierce your breast perhaps with an Alpine blade,

In vain you’ll go winding the noose about your throat,

Melancholy, with a wearisome mind-sickness.

Then saddled-up I’ll ride across your vile shoulders,

And the earth will open wide at my excesses.

Shall I who can bring to life waxen images,

As you know yourself from prying, I who can,

By incantations, snatch the moon out of the sky,

I who can raise again the ashes of the dead,

And mix together subtly the cup of desire,

Shall I weep, shall my art fail to work on you alone?

Horace, Epode 5

'At o deorum quidquid in caelo regit
terras et humanum genus,
quid iste fert tumultus aut quid omnium
voltus in unum me truces?
per liberos te, si vocata partubus
Lucina veris adfuit,
per hoc inane purpurae decus precor,
per inprobaturum haec Iovem,
quid ut noverca me intueris aut uti
petita ferro belua?'
ut haec trementi questus ore constitit
insignibus raptis puer,
inpube corpus, quale posset inpia
mollire Thracum pectora:
Canidia, brevibus illigata viperis
crinis et incomptum caput,
iubet sepulcris caprificos erutas,
iubet cupressos funebris
et uncta turpis ova ranae Sanguine
plumamque nocturnae strigis
herbasque, quas Iolcos atque Hiberia
mittit venenorum ferax,
et ossa ab ore rapta ieiunae canis
flammis aduri Colchicis.
at expedita Sagana, per totam domum
spargens Avernalis aquas,
horret capillis ut marinus asperis
echinus aut Laurens aper.
abacta nulla Veia conscientia
ligonibus duris humum
exhauriebat, ingemens laboribus,
quo posset infossus puer
longo die bis terque mutatae dapis
inemori spectaculo,
cum promineret ore, quantum exstant aqua
suspensa mento corpora;
exsucta uti medulla et aridum iecur
amoris esset poculum,
interminato cum semel fixae cibo
intabuissent pupulae.
non defuisse masculae libidinis
Ariminensem Foliam
et otiosa credidit Neapolis
et omne vicinum oppidum,
quae sidera excantata voce Thessala
lunamque caelo deripit.
hic inresectum saeva dente livido
Canidia rodens pollicem
quid dixit aut quid tacuit? 'o rebus meis
non infideles arbitrae,
Nox et Diana, quae silentium regis,
arcana cum fiunt sacra,
nunc, nunc adeste, nunc in hostilis domos
iram atque numen vertite.
formidulosis cum latent silvis ferae
dulci sopore languidae,
senem, quod omnes rideant, adulterum
latrent Suburanae canes
nardo perunctum, quale non perfectius
meae laborarint manus.
quid accidit? cur dira barbarae minus
venena Medeae valent,
quibus Superbam fugit ulta paelicem,
magni Creontis filiam,
cum palla, tabo munus imbutum, novam
incendio nuptam abstulit?
atqui nec herba nec latens in asperis
radix fefellit me locis.
indormit unctis omnium cubilibus
oblivione paelicum?
a, a, solutus ambulat veneficae
scientioris carmine.
non usitatis, Vare, potionibus,
o multa fleturum caput,
ad me recurres nec vocata mens tua
Marsis redibit vocibus.
maius parabo, maius infundam tibi
fastidienti poculum
priusque caelum Sidet inferius mari
tellure porrecta super
quam non amore sic meo flagres uti
bitumen atris ignibus.'
sub haec puer iam non, ut ante, mollibus
lenire verbis inpias,
sed dubius unde rumperet silentium,
misit Thyesteas preces:
'venena maga non fas nefasque, non valent
convertere humanam vicem.
diris agam vos: dira detestatio
nulla expiatur victima.
quin, ubi perire iussus exspiravero,
nocturnus occurram Furor
petamque voltus umbra curvis unguibus,
quae vis deorum est Manium,
et inquietis adsidens praecordiis
pavore somnos auferam.
vos turba vicatim hinc et hinc saxis petens
contundet obscaenas anus;
post insepulta membra different lupi
et Esquilinae alites
neque hoc parentes, heu mihi superstites,
effugerit spectaculum.'

"But oh, whatever of gods in heaven rules
the lands and the human race,
what does that confusion mean and what do
the fierce faces of everyone mean to me alone?
Through your children, if Lucina having been called
was present for at true births,
through this empty honor of purple I beg you,
through Jove about to disapprove of these things,
why as a stepmother do you consider me or as a best
having been attacked with a sword?"
As the boy stood protesting these things with his mouth trembling
and with his signs having been seized,
youthful body, the kind that could soften soften wicked
hearts of Thracians,
Canidia, with her hair braided with vipers
and untidy head,
orders that the figs be plucked from the tomb,
orders that the cypress trees of funeral rites
and the egg anointed with the blood of a disgusting frog,
and the feather of a nocturnal screech owl
and the herbs which Iolcos and Hiberia
send fruitful of poisons,
and bones seized from the mouth of a hungry dog
to be burned in Colchian flames.
But unencumbered Sagana, Avernus waters sprinkling
through the whole house,
shudders with her hairs just as a sea urchin in
difficulties or a running boar.
Veia driven by no conscience was digging the
earth with her tough hoes,
groaning at the labors so that, buried, the boy
could pine to death,
at the spectacle of a meal changed twice or
three times in along day,
while he projects with his face, as much as a body stands out from the water
suspended from their chin;
so that his cut-out marrow and dried liver
might be a drink of love,
as soon as his pupils wasted away fixed on the
food never finished.
Both idle Neopolis and every neighboring village
believed that
Iolia Ariminen was not absent of
masculine lust,
she who pulled down the stars and moon
out of heaven with her enchanted Thessalian voice.
Here Canidia gnawing on her untrimmed thumb
with her green tooth
what did she say or what did she not say? "Oh, not
unfaithful witnesses of my affairs,
Night and Diana, who reigns over silence,
when the sacred mysteries happen,
now, now be performed, now turn your anger and
hostile power to homes.
When the wild beast tired from sweet sleep lay hidden in
the scary forest,
let the Suburan dogs bark at the old lecher,
at which all may laugh,
completely smeared with ointment, the kind which my hands
could not have labored over more perfectly.
What happened? Why are barbarous Medea's awful poisons
less strong,
with which having gotten her revenge on the proud mistress,
the daughter of great Creon, she flees,
when the robe, a gift soaked with poison, carried the new
bride in flames?
And no herb nor root hiding in rough places
escaped me.
He sleeps in smeared beds in the oblivion
of all mistresses.
Ah! Ah! He walks alone by the song of an
expert witch!
Not using potions, Varus, oh head
about to weep much,
will you return to me, nor will your devotion
be revived by Marsian voices.
I will prepare something greater, something greater I will
pour for you, disdaining,
and sooner the sky sink under the sea with
the earth stretched above,
than you will not burn with love for me just like
pitch in black fires."
At these things the boy now, not as before, with
soft words soothing the impious women,
but doubtful whence to break the silence
sends prayers worthy of Thyestes:
"Magic potions do not have the strength to overturn right and wrong,
or to overturn the human revenge.
I will drive you with curses; no sacrifice will
atone for the awful offering.
What's more, when doomed to death I expire, I’ll come

To you as a Fury by night,

A shadow whose crooked claws will tear your faces

With the Manes’ divine power,

And settling myself in your unquiet hearts,

I’ll drive sleep out with terror.

The crowd will crush you, obscene old hags, pelting you

With stones from every side:

And then the wolves and birds of the Esquiline,

Will scatter your unburied limbs,

And my parents, who will alas survive me, shall

Not miss a moment of that sight.

Horace, Epode 2

"Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
solutus omni faenore,
neque excitatur classico miles truci,
neque horret iratum mare,
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
Ergo aut adulta vitium propagine
altas maritat populos,
aut in reducta valle mugientium
prospectat errantis greges,
inutilisque falce ramos amputans
feliciores inserit,
aut pressa puris mella condit amphoris,
aut tondet infirmas ovis;
vel cum decorum mitibus pomis caput
Autumnus agris extulit,
ut gaudet insitiva decerpens pira
certantem et uvam purpurae,
qua muneretur te, Priape, et te, pater
Silvane, tutor finium.
Libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine;
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in silvis aves,
fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
At cum tonantis annus hibernus Iovis
imbres nivesque comparat,
aut trudit acris hinc et hinc multa cane
apros in obstantis plagas,
aut amite levi rara tendit retia,
turdis edacibus dolos,
pavidumque leporem et advenam laqueo gruem
iucunda captat praemia.
Quis non malarum quas amor curas habet
haec inter obliviscitur?
Quodsi pudica mulier in partem iuvet
domum atque dulcis liberos,
Savina qualis aut perusta solibus
pernici uxor Apuli,
sacrum vetustis exstruat lignis focum
lassi sub adventum viri,
claudensque textis cratibus laetum pecus
distenta sicceet ubera,
et horna dulci vina promens dolio
dapes inemptas apparet,
non me Lucrina iuverint conchylia
magisve rhombus aut scari,
si quos Eois intonata fluctibus
hiems ad hoc vertat mare,
non Afra avis descendat in ventrem meum,
non attagen Ionicus
iucundior quam lecta de pinguissimis
oliva ramis arborum
aut herba lapathi prata amantis et gravi
malvae salubres corpori,
vel agna festis caesa Terminalibus
vel haedus ereptus lupo.
Has inter epulas ut iuvat pastas oves
videre properantis domum,
videre fessos vomerem inversum boves
collo trahentis languido
positosque vernas, ditis examen domus,
circum renidentis Lares."
Haec ubi locutus faenerator Alfius,
iam iam futurus rusticus,
omnem redegit Idibus pecuniam,
quaerit Kalendis ponere.

He is blessed who, away from work,
just as the ancient race of mortals,
cultivates his father's farms with his ox,
free from all debt,
and, a soldier, is not stirred up by the wild trumpet,
and, angry, does not shudder at the sea,
and avoids the forum and arrogant thresholds
of powerful citizens.
Therefore either may he marry the high poplars
with the mature offspring of the vines,
or may he gaze out at the herds of wandering (animals),
with the lowing cattle having returned to the valley,
and having cut off the useless branches with a pruning knife
may be graft on the fruitful branches,
or having pressed the honey may he put into clean pitchers,
or may he sheer the gentle sheep;
even when Autumn carried out its head with the adorned
ripe fruits of the field,
how he delights to pluck the grafted pears
and the purple grapes,
with which to honor you, Priapus, and you, father
Silvanus, protector of the country.
It is pleasing to lie now under the ancient ree,
now on the thick grass;
at the same time he slips on the high banks of water,
the birds complain in the forests,
and the streams roar with flowing water,
which invites light sleeps.
But when the winter season provides rains and
snow of thundering Jove,
or pushes the bitter boars here and here with a dog
of many opposing strokes,
or stretches the thin net with the smooth pole,
tricks for greedy thrushes,
and entices with a trap the timid rabbit and foreign
crane, pleasing prizes.
Who does not forget the cares of evil which he holds
among love?
But if a chaste woman helps the house
and sweet children in part,
like a Sabine woman or a wife of persistent
Apulus burned by the sun,
she builds a sacred altar with old wood before
the arrival of a tired man,
and closing the happy herd in the wicker structure,
she drys the full udders,
and, bringing out this year's wines from the sweet jar,
she prepares the unbought fest,
Lucrinus oysters are not pleasing to me more than
turbot or scarfish,
if winter, thundering on the Eastern waves, turned them
to this sea,
the African bird does not descend to my stomach,
nor the Ionican grouse more
pleasing than an olive picked from the fattest
branch of the tree,
or a meadow herb of loving sorrel and a beneficial
plant for a heavy body,
either a ewe slaughtered for the festival of boundaries,
or a kid rescued from a wolf.
Among these feasts how pleasing to see the freed sheep
hurrying home,
to see the tired cows dragging the upside-down plow
with tired necks
and the arranged slaves, swarm of a wealthy home,
around shining Lares."
When the money-lender Alfius had said these things,
now already about to be a farmer,
he returned all money on the Ides,
he seeks to put it on the Kalends.

Horace, Epode 16

Altera iam teritur bellis civilibus aetas,
suis et ipsa Roma viribus ruit:
quam neque finitmi valuerunt perdere Marsi
minacis aut Etrusca Porsenae manus,
aemula nec virtus Capuae nec Spartacus acer
novisque rebus infidelis Allobrox,
nec fera caerulea domuit Germania pube
parentibusque abominatus Hannibal,
impia perdemus devoti sanguinis aetas,
ferisque rursus occupabitu solum.
Barbarus heu cineres insistet victor et urbem
eques sonante verberabit ungula,
quaeque carent ventis et solibus ossa Quirini
(nefas videre) dissipabit insolens.
Forte quid expediat communiter aut melior pars
malis carere quaeritis laboribus.
Nulla sit hac potior sententia: Phocaeorum
velut profugit exsecrata civitas
agros atque lares patrios, habitandaque fana
apris reliquit et rapacibus lupis,
ire pedes quocumque ferent, quocumque per undas
Notus vocabit aut protervus Africus.
Sic placet, an melius quis habet suadere? Secunda
ratem occupare quid moramur alite?
Sed iuremus in haec: "Simul imis saxa renarint
vadis levata, ne redire sit nefas;
neu conversa domum pigeat dare lintea, quando
Padus Matina laverit cacumina,
in mare seu celsus procurrerit Appenninus,
novaque monstra iunxerit libidine
mirus amor, iuvet ut tigris subsidere cervis,
adulteretur et columba miluo,
credula nec ravos timeant armenta leones,
ametque salsa levis hircus aequora."
Haec et quae poterunt reditus abscindere dulcis
eamus omnis exsecrata civitas,
aut pars indocili melior grege; mollis et exspes
inominata perprimat cubilia.
Vos quibus est virtus, muliebrem tollite luctum,
Etrusca praeter et volate litora.
Nos manet Oceanus circumvagus: arva, beata
petamus arva divites et insulas,
reddit ubi Cererem tellus inarata quotannis
et imputata floret usque vinea,
germinat et numquam fallentis termes olivae,
suamque pulla ficus ornat arborem,
mella cava manant ex ilice, montibus altis
levis crepante lympha desilit pede.
Illic iniussae veniunt ad mulctra capellae,
refertque tenta grex amicus ubera,
nec vesperinus circumgemit ursus ovile
neque intumescit alta viperis humus;
pluraque felices mirabimur: ut neque largis
aquosus Eurus arva radat imbribus,
pinguia nec siccis urantur semina glaebis,
utrumue rege temperante caelitum.
Non huc ARgoo contendit remige pinus,
neque impudica Colchis intulit pedem;
non huc Sidonii torserunt cornua nautae,
laboriosa nec cohors Ulixei.
Nulla nocent pecori contagia, nullius astri
gregem aestuosa torret impotentia.
Iuppiter illa piae secrevit litora genti,
ut inquinavit aere tempus aureum;
aere, dehinc ferro duravit saecula, quorum
piis secunda vate me datur fuga.

Now another age is worn away by civil wars,
and Rome itself collapses with its own strength:
which neither the neighboring Marsi have the strength to destroy
nor the threatening Etruscan hand of Porsena,
imitate neither the virtue of Capua nor the bold Spartacus
and the treacherous Allobrox with their new things,
nor the blue eyed youth of Germany and Hannibal
hated by parents,
we, impious age devoted of those devoted to blood, will destroy
the land, and the land will again be taken over by wild beasts.
Alas, a barbarian conqueror will stand on the ashes, and the cavalry
will strike the city with resounding hooves,
and the bones of Quirinus which are removed from the winds and the sun
will be scattered arrogantly (a crime to behold).
By chance you all together seek what would liberate us
to be free from these wretched toils.
Let no opinion be better: just as the cursed
city-state of the Phocaeans escaped their ancestral
fields and gods, and abandoned the temples about to be
inhabited by boars and grasping wolves,
the infantry consider to go anywhere, wherever through the waves
Notus or violent Africus will call.
Is it thus resolved, or does someone have something better to suggest? Why do
we delay by a favorable fight to overtake the boat?
But let us swear to this: "When the stones from the lowest
depths raise up, let it be lawful to return;
and let it not be shameful to turn and sail home, when
the Padus will have washed the Matina peaks,
or if the high Appennine will have jutted out into the sea,
and a strange love will have joined new monsters
with desire, when it is pleasing for tigers to lie down with stags,
and a pigeon commits adultery with a hawk,
when the trusting cattle do not fear the tawny lions,
and when the smooth goats love the salty seas."
The entire state having sworn these things and those things which
will delay our return, let us go,

Get rid of your feminine grieving, you all who have virtue,
and fly beyond the Tuscan shores.
The Ocean remains around us: we seek fields, blessed fields
and rich islands,
where earth unplowed returns grain every year
and the unpruned vines ever flower,
and a branch of never-deceptive olive germinates,
and the dark fig decorates its own tree,
honeys drip from hollow oak tree, and from the high
mountains waters crash down with a light foot.
There the unbidden goats come to the milking pails,
and the loyal flock brings back full udders,
at evening the bear does not roar around the sheepfold
and the ground does not swell high with vipers;
and we, happy, will wonder at more things: how rainy Eurus
does not erode the fields with plentiful storms,
how the fat seeds are not burned from the dry soil,
because the king of gods restrains both.
The pine with oarsmen of the Argo does not hasten to this place
and the unchaste . . .
Phoenician sailors did not turn their yardarms to this place,
nor the laborious cohort of Ulysses.
No infections harm the herds, no constellation's
blazing fury burns the flock.
Jupiter separated those shores for righteous people,
when he tainted the golden age with bronze;
from the bronze, from here he hardened the time with iron, the ages
from which a favorable flight is given to pious ones by me, a prophet.

Horace, Satire 1.9

Ibam forte via sacra, sicut meus est mos
nescio quid meditans nugarum , totus in illis.
accurrit quidam notus mihi nomine tantum,
arreptaque manu: 'quid agis, dulcissime rerum?'
'suaviter, ut nunc est' inquam, 'et cupio omnia, quae vis.'
cum adsectaretur: 'numquid vis?' occupo, at ille
'noris nos' inquit, 'docti sumus.' hic ego: 'pluris
hoc' inquam 'mihi eris.' misere discedere quaerens
ire modo ocius, interdum consistere, in aurem
dicere nescio quid puero, cum sudor ad imos
manaret talos. 'o te, Bolane, cerebri
felicem' aiebam tacitus, cum quidlibet ille
garriret, vicos, urbem laudaret. ut illi
nil respondebam: 'misere cupis' inquit 'abire;
iam dudum video. sed nil agis; usque tenebo.
persequar hinc, quo nunc iter est tibi.' 'nil opus est te
circumagi: quendam volo visere non tibi notum;
trans Tiberim longe cubat is prope Caesaris hortos.'
'nil habeo, quad agam, et non sum piger: usque sequar te.'
demitto auriculas, ut iniquae mentis asellus,
cum gravius dorso subiit onus. incipit ille:
'si bene me novi, non Viscum pluis amicum,
non Varium facies: nam quis me scribere pluris
aut citius possit versus? quis membra movere
mollius? invideat quod et Hermogenes ego canto.'
interpellandi locus hic erat: 'est tibi mater,
cognati, quis te salvo est opus?' 'haud mihi quisquam;
omnis composui.' 'felices! nunc ego resto.
confice! manque instat fatum mihi triste, Sabella
quod puero cecinit divina mota anus urna:
hunc neque dira venena, nec hosticus auferet ensis,
nec laterum dolor aut tussis, nec tarda podagra:
garrulus hunc quando consumet cumque. loquaces,
si sapiat, vitet, simul atque adoleverit aetas.'
ventum erat ad Vestae, quarta iam parte diei
praeterita, et casu tum respondere vadato
debebat, quod ni fecisset, perdere litem.
'si me amas' inquit, 'paulum hi ades.' 'inteream, si
aut valeo stare aut novi civilia iura,
et propero, quo scis.' 'dubius sum, quid faciam' inquit,
''tene relinquam, an rem.' 'me, sodes.' 'non faciam' ille
et praecedere coepit. ego, ut contendere durum
cum victore, sequor. 'Maecenas quomodo tecum?'
hinc repetit, 'paucorum hominum et mentis bene sanae;
nemo dexterius fortuna est usus. haberes
magum adiutorem, posset qui ferre secundas,
hunc hominem velles si tradere. dispeream, ni
summosses omnis.' 'non isto vivimus illic,
quo tu rere, modo. domus hac nec purior ulla est,
nec magis his aliena malis. nil mi officit, inquam,
ditior hic aut est quia doctior: est locus uni
cuique suus.' 'accendis, quare cupiam magis illi
proxumus esse.' 'velis tantummodo: quae tua virtus,
expugnabis, et est, qui vinci possit, eoque
difficilis aditus primos habet.' 'haud mihi dero:
muneribus servos corrumpam; non, hodie si
exclusus fuero, destistam; tempora quaeram,
occurram in triviis, deducam. nil sine magno
vita labore dedit mortalibus.' haec dum agit, ecce
Fuscus Aristius occurrit, mihi carus et illum
qui pulchre nosset. consistimus. 'unde venis?' et
'quo tendis?' rogat et respondet. vellere coepi
et pressare manu lentissima brachia, nutans,
distorquens oculos, ut me eriperet. male salsus
ridens dissumulare, meum iecur urere bilis:
'certe nescio quid secreto velle loqui te
aibas mecum.' 'memini bene, sed meliore
tempore dicam: hodie tricesima sabbata. vin tu
curtis Iudaeis oppedere?' 'nulla mihi' inquam
'religio est.' 'at mi! sum paulo infirmior, unus
multorum. ignosces; alias loquar.' huncine solem
tam nigrum surrexe mihi! fugit inprobus ac me
sub cultro linquit. casu venit obvius illi
adversarius et 'quo tu, turpissime?' magna
inclamat voce, et 'licet antestari?' ego vero
oppono auriculam. rapit in ius: clamor utrimque,
undique concursus. sic me servavit Apollo.

By chance I was going by the sacred way, as is my custom,
contemplating I don't know what of trifles, totally in these things.
A certain man familiar to me only in name ran up
and seized my hand: "How are you, the sweetest thing of the world?"
"Pleasantly, just as it is now," I say, "and I want you to have everything which you wish."
Since he followed closely: "Surely you don't want something?" I take the lead over, but he
says, "You should get to know me. I am learned." At this I say, "You will
be to me worth more for this reason." Miserably seeking to depart,
I go now more quickly, at times I stop, I say
I don't know what to the boy in his ear, while sweat was flowing
to the bottom or my ankles. "Oh you, Bolanus, lucky
for your temper," I was silently saying, while he was chattering whatever,
he was praising the city, the neighborhoods. Since
I was responding nothing to him: "You miserably wish to leave," he said.
"For a long time I see that. But you do nothing; I continuously persist.
Henceforth I will pursue to where you are now going." "It is not necessary
to be led out of your way: I wish to go see a certain friend not known to you;
far across the Tiber near the gardens of Caesar he is confined to bed by illness."
"I have nothing which I am doing, and I am not lazy: I will follow you all the way."
I send down my ears, just as a young donkey discontented of mind,
when he undergoes a rather heavy burden on a hill. He said:
"As certainly as I know myself, you will not regard Viscus Varius as a friend
of more value: for who can write more verses
or quicker than me? Who can more limbs
more gently? Even Hermogenes would envy what I sing."
This was a location for interrupting: "Do you have a mother,
whose concern is it that you are healthy?" "I don't have anyone;
I buried them all." "What lucky people! Now I remain.
Finish me off! For a sad fate looms over me, which
an old Sabine woman having shaken her urn said to me when I was a boy:
neither terrible poison nor the hostile sword will kill this boy,
nor pain of his sides nor gout:
a chatterbox will destroy this one at some point or other. If he is wise,
he will avoid talkative people, up until he reaches the prime of his life."
We had come to the temple of Vesta, now with the fourth part of the day
having passed by, and by chance he had to respond to a plaintiff,
which, unless he did it, he would have to loose the case.
"If you love me," he said, "be by my side for a little bit." "May I perish, if
either I am strong enough to stand or if I know civil laws,
and I hasten, whither you know." "I am uncertain what I am to do," he said,
"Will I abandon you or the thing." "Me, please." "I will not do that," he
said and began to go on ahead. I, since it is hard to compete
with the victor, follow. "How are things with you and Maecenas?"
he resumed, "well sound in mind of a few men;
fortune enjoys nobody more favorably. You have
a great helper, he who can play second,
if you wish to introduce this man. May I perish, lest
you have banished all others." "We are not living in that manner there,
in which you think. His house is neither more clean in this way than any other,
nor more evil to this aliens. It does not impede me, I say,
whether he is more wealthy or more learned: to each one
there is is own spot." "You tell a great thing, scarcely believable." "But
it is so." "You arouse me, wherefore I will wish to be next
to him more." "You would only wish it: which is your virtue,
you will conquer, he who is able to be conquered, for that
reason he keeps the first approach exclusive." "I will hardly fail myself:
I will corrupt the slaves with gifts; if I am excluded
today, I will not stop. I will search out the right times,
I will hurry to meet him in the streets, I will escort him. Life has given
nothing to mortals without great labor." While he was saying these things, behold,
Aristius Fuscus rain up, dear to me and the kind who
would know him well. We stop. "From where are you coming?" and
"For what purpose are you proceeding?" He asks and responds. I begin to tug
and to press my hand against his most unresponsive arms with nodding,
twisting my eyes this way and that, in order that he would rescue me. Laughing, he
pretends to misunderstand, bile burns my liver:
"Certainly you are saying that you wish to speak
with me secretly." "I remember well, but I will speak at a
better time: today is the thirtieth sabbath. You don't
wish to fart in the face of a circumcised Jew, do you?" "No religion is
for me," I say. "But I am! I am a little weak, one
of many. For give me; I will speak at another time." This day
rose so dark for me! The shameless fled and
abandoned me under the knife. By chance a hostile enemy came
to that place and "Where are you going, saddest of men?" he cried
in a great voice, and "Is it permitted for me to call you as a witness?" Indeed, I
offered my ear. He hurries to court: shouting is on both sides,
running to and fro on all sides. Thus Apollo protects me.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Horace, Epode 1

Ibis Liburnis inter alta navium,
amice, propugnacula,
paratus omne Caesaris periculum
subire, Maecenas, tuo.
Quid nos, quibus te vita si superstite
iucunda, si contra, gravis?
Utrumne iussi persequemur otium
non dulce ni tecum simul,
an hunc laborem, mente laturi decet
qua ferre non mollis viros?
Feremus, et te vel per Alpium iuga
inhospitalem et Caucasum
vel occidentis usque ad ultimum sinum
forti sequemur pectore.
Roges, tuum labore quid iuvem meo,
imbellis ac firmus parem?
Comes minore sum futurus in metu,
qui maior absentis habet;
ut adsidens implumibus pullis avis
serpentium allapsus timet
magis relictis, non ut adsit auxili
latura plus praesentibus.
Libenter hoc et omne militabitur
bellum in tuae spem gratiae,
non ut iuvencis illigata pluribus
aratra nitantur mea,
pecusve Calabris ante sidus fervidum
Lucana mutet pascuis,
neque ut superni villa candens Tusculi
Circaea tangat moenia.
Satis superque me benignitas tua
ditavit; haud paravero,
quod aut avarus ut Chremes terra premam,
discinctus aut perdam nepos.

You will go among the Liburnian ships, between the tall
bullwarks of ships, my friend,
prepared to undergo every danger of Caesar,
Maecenas, by your danger.
What about us, for whom life is pleasant if you
survive, if otherwise, heavy?
Will we, as ordered, pursue leisure
not sweet unless at the same time with you,
or this labor, ready to bear in mind
with which it is proper for not-soft men to bear?
We will bear it, and we will follow you either through
the summits of the Alps and the inhospitable Caucasus
or all the way to the farthest curve of the west
with a strong heart.
You may ask, how will I help your labor with mine,
I who am unwarlike and not at all firm?
I will be your companion less in fear
which holds those who are absent more;
just as a bird sitting near her unfledged chicks
fears the slitherings of serpents,
more when they are abandoned, not as if she were present
she would bring more help to those present.
This and every war gladly will be waged
by me in the hopes of your favor,
not so that my plows strain having been fastened
to many cows,
or that the herd may exchange Lucanian fields for
Calabrian pastures before the fiery star
nor that my shining house touches the Circian walls of
lofty Tusculum.
Your kindness enriched me enough and
more; I would hardly have obtained money,
which just as greedy Chremes I bury it in the earth,
or waste it like a spendthrift.

Horace, Epode 7

Quo, quo scelesti ruitis? Aut cur dexteris
aptantur enses conditi?
Parumne campis atque Neptuno super
fusum est Latini sanguinis,
non ut superbas invidae Carthaginis
Romanus arces ureret,
intactus au Britannus ut descenderet
Sacra catenatus Via,
sed ut, secundum vota Parthorum, sua
urbs haec periret dextera?
Neque hic lupis mos nec fuit leonibus,
umquam nisi in dispar feris.
Furorne caecus 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 immerentis fluxit in terram Remi
sacer nepotibus cruor.

Wither, wither do you wicked people rush? Or why are
the sheathed swords being fitted to your right hand?
Has too little of Latin blood been poured in the fields and
over Neptune,
not so that a Roman burned the proud citadels of
hateful Carthage,
or that an untamed Briton chained might descend
by the sacred way,
but so that, after the prayers of the Parthians, this
city perishes by her own right hand?
This was the custom neither with wolves nor lions,
ever unless against a different animal.
Does blind madness or sharp strength or guilt
drive you? Give an answer!
They are silent, and the white pallor stains their faces,
and their terrified minds are dazed.
It is so: bitter fates drive the Romans and
the crime of a fraternal murder,
ever since the blood of blameless Remus flowed
into the earth from his descendants.

Horace, Ode 1.3

Sic te diva potens Cypri,
sic fratres Helenae, lucida sidera,
ventorumque regat pater
obstrictis aliis praeter Iapyga,

navis, quae tibi creditum
debes Vergilium; finibus Atticis
reddas incolumem, precor,
et serves animae dimidium meae.

Illi robur et aes triplex
circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci
commisit pelago ratem
primus, nec timuit praecipitem Africum

decertantem Aquilonibus
nec tristis Hyadas nec rabiem Noti,
quo non arbiter Hadriae
maior, tollere seu ponere vult freta.

Quem mortis timuit gradum
qui siccis oculis monstra natantia,
qui vidit mare turbidum et
infamis scopulos, Acroceraunia?

Nequiquam deus abscidit
prudens Oceano dissociabili
terras, si tamen impiae
non tangenda rates transiliunt vada.

Audax omnia perpeti
gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas.
Audax Iapeti genus
ignem fraude mala gentibus intulit.

Post ignem aetheria domo
subductum macies et nova befrium
terris incubuit cohors,
semotique prius tarda necessitas

leti corripuit gradum.
Expertus vacuum Daedalus aera
pinnis non homini datis;
perrupit Acheronta Herculeus labor.

Nil mortalibus ardui est;
caelum ipsum petimus stultitia, neque
per nostrum patimur scelus
iracunda Iovem ponere fulmina.

Thus the powerful goddess of Cyprus,
thus the brothers of Helen, bright stars,
and the father of winds guide you,
with others confined except for Iapyx,

ships, which you are keeping Vergil as
a loan to you; may you return him
unharmed to Attic territories, I pray,
and may you guard half of my soul.

Oak and triple copper
was placed around my heart, which first joined
the fragile raft to the wild
sea, neither fears tempestuous Africus

fighting with the north winds
nor the gloomy Hyades nor the rage of Notus,
than whom there is no greater overseer
of the Adriatic, whether he wishes to raise or calm the seas.

What step of death does he fear,
he who saw with dry eyes monsters swimming,
he who saw the wild sea and
infamous rocks, Acroceraunia?

In vain, a prudent god separated
the lands from the incompatible Ocean,
if nevertheless the impious ships
dash across the untouchable depths.

The human race, bold
to suffer all things, rushes to forbidden sins.
The bold son of Iapetus
brought fire to the people by wicked deceit.

After the fire carried off from
it's heavenly home, decay and a new friend of
fever settled on the lands,
and slow fate first quickened the approach

of slow death.
Daedalus tried the empty air with
wings non given to humans;
the labor of Hercules broke through Acheron.

There is nothing steep for mortals;
we attack heaven itself with stupidity, and
we do not suffer for our crime
to put aside angry lightening for Jove.

Horace, Ode 1.4

Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni,
trahuntque siccas machinae carinas,
ac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igni,
nec prata canis albicant pruinis.

Iam Cytherea choros ducit Venus imminente luna,
iunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes
alterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis Cyclopum
Vulcanus ardens visit officinas.

Nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire mytro
aut flore, terrae quem ferunt solutae;
nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis,
seu poscat agna sive malit haedo.

Pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
regumque turris. O beate Sesti,
vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam.
Iam te premet nox fabulaeque Manes

et domus exilis Plutonia; quo simul mearis,
nec regna vini sortiere talis,
nec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo calet iuventus
nunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt.

Bitter winter is being melted with the welcome change of spring and of Favonius,
and the machines drag the dry hulls,
and the herd no longer rejoices in their stalls or the farmer by the fire,
nor are the meadows white with white frost.

Now Cytherean Venus leads the chorus with the moon overhead,
and the linked comely Graces with the Nymphs
shake the earth with alternating foot, while burning Vulcan
visits the workshop of the mighty Cyclops.

Now it is fitting to entwine the shining head with either fresh myrtle
or blossoms, which the released lands bear;
now, too, it is fitting to sacrifice to Faunus in shady groves,
whether he asks for an ear of grain or he prefers a young goat.

Pale Death beats with an equal foot the huts of poor men and the
towers of kings. Oh, fortunate Sestius,
life's brief extent forbids us to establish long hope.
Soon night and bleak Plutonia will press you

and the home of phantom shades; as soon as you get there,
neither obtain by dice the lordship of wine,
nor marvel at Lycidan young and tender, for whom every youth
is now hot with desire and soon the maidens will grow hot.

Horace, Ode 1.5

Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa
perfusus liquidis urget odoribus
grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?
Cui flavam religas comam,

simplex munditiis? Heu quotiens fidem
mutatosque deos flebit et aspera
nigris aequora ventis
emirabitur insolens

qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,
qui semper vacuam, semper amabilem
sperat, nescius aurae
fallacis. Miseri, quibus

intemptata nites. Me tabula sacer
votiva paries indicat uvida
suspendisse potenti
vestimenta maris deo.

What slender boy drenched in liquid perfumes
presses upon you many roses,
Pyrrha, under a pleasing cave?
For whom do you tie your yellow hair,

simple with elegance? Alas, how often he will
lament faithlessness and changed gods and he will
marvel in surprise at the rough sea with
black winds

he who now enjoys you, trusting, you are golden,
he who hopes that you will always be free, always lovable,
unaware of a treacherous breeze.
Wretched ones, for whom

you, untried, shine. The sacred wall with the
votive tablet indicates that I have suspended
my wet clothes to the
god of the sea.

Horace, Ode 1.6

Scriberis Vario fortis et hostium
victor, Maeonii carminis alite,
quam rem cumque ferox navibus aut equis
miels te duce gesserit.

Nos, Agrippa, neque haec diceere nec gravem
Palidae stomachum cedere nescii
nec cursus duplicis per mare Ulixei
nec saevam Pelopis domum

conamur, tenues grandia, dum pudor
imbellisque lyrae Musa potens vetat
laudes egregii Caesaris et tuas
culpa deterere ingeni.

Quis Martem tunica tectum adamantina
digne scripserit aut pulvere Troico
nigrum Merionen aut ope Palladis
Tydiden superis parem?

Nos convivia, nos proelia virginum
sectis in iuvenes unguibus acrium
contamus vacui, sive quid urimur,
non praeter solitum leves.

You will be written about by Varius as strong and a
conquerer of enemies, by the poet of Maeonian song,
whatever thing a bold soldier with ships or with horses
will carry with you as leader.

Agrippa, do not let us try to speak these things nor
to yield to the heavy wrath of stubborn Achilles
nor the wandering of two-faced Ulysses through the sea
nor the savage house of Pelops,

while the modest and powerful Muse of
unwarlike lyre forbids to diminish the praise of
distinguished Caesar and your fault
of talent.

Who will write appropriately of Mars covered
with an inflexible tunic or of Meriones black
with Trojan dust or Tydides equal to the gods
by the power of Athena?

We sing of symposiums, we sing of battles of bitter
maidens with untrimmed nails against young men,
whether we are empty or we burn,
we are light not beyond custom.

Horace, Ode 1.7

Laudabunt alii claram Rhodon aut Mytilenen
aut Epheson bimarisve Corinthi
moenia vel Baccho Thebas vel Apolline Delphos
insignis aut Thessala Tempe.

Sunt quibus unum opus est intactae Palladis urbem
carmine perpetuo celebrare et
undique decerptam fronti praeponere olivam;
plurimus in Iuonis honorem

aptum diceet equis Argos ditisque Mycenas:
me nec tam patiens Lacedaemon
nec tam Larisae percussit campus optimae,
quam domus Albuneae resonantis

et praeceps Anio ac Tiburni lucus et uda
mobilibus pomaria rivis.
Albus ut obscuro deterget nubila caelo
saepe Notus neque parturit imbris

perpetuos, sic tu sapiens finire memento
tristitiam vitaeque labores
molli, Plance, mero, seu te fulgentia signis
castra tenent seu densa tenebit

Tiburis umbra tui. Teucer Salamina patremque
cum fugeret, tamen uda Lyaeo
tempora populea fertur vinxisse corona,
sic tristis affatus amicos:

"Quo nos cumque feret melior fortuna parente,
ibimus, o socii comitesque.
Nil desperandum Teucro duce et auspice Teucro;
certus enim promisit Apollo

ambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram.
O fortes peioraque passi
mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas;
cras ingens iterabimus aequor.

Others will praise famous Rhodes or Mytilene
or Ephesus or the walls of Corinth between
two seas or Thebes famous for Bacchus or Delphi
famous for Apollo or Thessaly famous for Tempe.

There are those for whom it is one work to celebrate with
perpetual song the city of untouched Athena and
to place in front of their forehead a plucked olive from all sides;
many a one will offer Greek horses and

Mycenean riches suitable for the honor of Juno;
neither so much as hardy Lacedaemon
nor so much as the field of fertile Larisa has struck me
as the house of resonating Albunea

and steep Anio and the sacred grove of the Tibur and
the orchards wet with moving rivers.
White Notus often scatters the clouds from the dim
sky and does not bring forth clouds of perpetual

rain, thus you be wise and remember to finish
the sadness and troubles of life
with mellow wine, Plancus, whether the gleaming camps
represent you with signs or the dense shadow

of your Tibur will hold you. When Teucer fled from Salamina
and his father, nevertheless it is said that he
bound his temples soaked with wine with a poplar crown,
thus he spoke to his sad friends:

"Wherever a fortune better than my father will bear us,
we will go, oh friends and companions.
Do not despair with Teucer as leader and with Teucer as augur;
even sure Apollo promised

that there will be an ambiguous Salamina in a new land.
Oh strong men and men who have
often suffered worse with me, now drive our your cares with wine;
tomorrow we will resume (our voyage on) the vast sea."

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Horace, Ode 1.8

Lydia, dic per omnis
hoc deos vere, Sybarin cur properes amando
perdere, cur apricum
oderit campum, patiens pulveris atque solis

cur neque militaris
inter aequalis equitet, Gallica nec lupatis
temperet ora frenis.
Cur timet flabum Tiberim tangere? Cur olivum

sanguine viperino
cautius vitat neque iam livida gestat armis
bracchia, saepe disco,
saepe trans finem iaculo nobilis expedito?

Quid latet, ut marinae
filium dicunt Thetidis sub lacrimosa Troiae
funera, ne virilis
cultus in caedem et Lycias proriperet catervas?

Lydia, say this truly
through all the gods, why do you hurry to ruin Sybaris
by loving him, why does
he hate the sunny field, the suffering of the dust and of the sun,

why does he not ride
horseback among equal soldiers, and does not control Gallic mouths
with jagged bits?
Why does he fear to tough the yellow Tiber? Why does he avoid

an olive more warily
than viper blood and now does not carry weapons on bruised
arms, often famed for
the disk, often for his javelin cleared across the end?

Why does he lie hidden, just as they say
the sons of marine Thetis lie hidden just before the tearful burial
of Troy, lest his
manly costume and Lycian troops hustle him forth to murder.

Horace, Ode 1.9

Vides ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte, nec iam sustineant onus
silvae laborantes, geluque
flumina constiterint acuto.

Dissolve frigues ligna super foco
large reponens atque benignius
deprome quadrimum Sabina,
o Thaliarche, merum diota.

Permitte divis cetera, qui simul
stravere ventos aequore fervido
deproeliantis, nec cupressi
nec veteres agitantur orni.

Quid sit futurum cras fuge quaerere, et
quem Fors dierum cumque dabit lucro
appone, nec dulcis ameres
sperne puer neque tu choreas,

donec virenti canities abest
morosa. Nunc et campus et areae
lenesque sub noctem susurri
composita reqetantur hora,

nunc et latentis proditor intimo
gratus puellae risus ab angulo
pignusque derptum lacertis
aut digito male pertinaci.

You see how high Soracte stands, bright with
snow, and no longer do the straining forests
support the burden, and the rivers have
frozen with sharp frost.

Melt the cold piling logs high upon
the hearth and more generously
draw off the four-winter wine, oh
Thaliarche, from the Sabine jar.

Leave other things to the gods, who
as soon as they calm the winds on the stormy seas
from fighting each other, they agitate neither
the cypress trees nor the old ash trees.

Avoid seeking what is about to be tomorrow, and
assign to profit whatever days Fortune will
give, and scorn neither loves
nor dances, boy,

while your bloom is absent from irritable
white hairs. Now both field and parks
and light whispers repeated under night
at the arranged hour,

and now the pleasing laughter betraying the
hidden girl in the most secret corner
and the pledge seized from the
badly resisting arms with a finger.