Odes

Horace

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

  • Silence thou thy savage cymbals, and the Berecyntine horn;
  • In their train Self-love still follows, dully, desperately blind,
  • And Vain-glory, towering upwards in its emptyheaded scorn,
  • And the Faith that keeps no secrets, with a window in its mind.
  • Cupid's mother, cruel dame,
  • And Semele's Theban boy, and Licence bold,
  • Bid me kindle into flame
  • This heart, by waning passion now left cold.
  • O, the charms of Glycera,
  • That hue, more dazzling than the Parian stone!
  • O, that sweet tormenting play,
  • That too fair face, that blinds when look'd upon!
  • Venus comes in all her might,
  • Quits Cyprus for my heart, nor lets me tell
  • 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.