Odes

Horace

Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Conington, John, translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1882.

And lodged its gall in man's poor heart.

'Twas wrath that laid Thyestes low;

'Tis wrath that oft destruction calls

On cities, and invites the foe

To drive his plough o'er ruin'd walls.

Then calm your spirit; I can tell

How once, when youth in all my veins

Was glowing, blind with rage, I fell

On friend and foe in ribald strains.

Come, let me change my sour for sweet,

And smile complacent as before:

Hear me my palinode repeat,