Odes

Horace

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

  • Pimplea sweet! my praise were vain
  • Without thee. String this maiden lyre,
  • Attune for him the Lesbian strain,
  • O goddess, with thy sister quire!
  • What, fight with cups that should give joy?
  • 'Tis barbarous; leave such savage ways
  • To Thracians. Bacchus, shamefaced boy,
  • Is blushing at your bloody frays.
  • The Median sabre! lights and wine!
  • Was stranger contrast ever seen?
  • Cease, cease this brawling, comrades mine,
  • And still upon your elbows lean.
  • Well, shall I take a toper's part
  • Of fierce Falernian? let our guest,
  • Megilla's brother, say what dart
  • Gave the death-wound that makes him blest.