Odes

Horace

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

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.

Not large my cups, nor rich my cheer,

This Sabine wine, which erst I seal'd,

That day the applauding theatre

Your welcome peal'd,

Dear knight Maecenas! as 'twere fain

That your paternal river's banks,

And Vatican, in sportive strain,

Should echo thanks.