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 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, 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.