Odes

Horace

Horace, creator; Conington, John, 1825-1869, editor

  • Appall'd the lands, lest Pyrrha's time
  • Return, with all its monstrous sights,
  • When Proteus led his flocks to climb
  • The flatten'd heights,
  • When fish were in the elm-tops caught,
  • Where once the stock-dove wont to bide,
  • And does were floating, all distraught,
  • Adown the tide.
  • Old Tiber, hurl'd in tumult back
  • From mingling with the Etruscan main,
  • Has threaten'd Numa's court with wrack
  • And Vesta's fane.
  • Roused by his Ilia's plaintive woes,
  • He vows revenge for guiltless blood,
  • And, spite of Jove, his banks o'erflows,
  • Uxorious flood.
  • Yes, Fame shall tell of civic steel
  • That better Persian lives had spilt,
  • To youths, whose minish'd numbers feel
  • Their parents' guilt.