Odes

Horace

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

  • 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.
  • He hesitates? no other hire
  • Shall tempt my sober brains. Whate'er
  • The goddess tames you, no base fire
  • She kindles; 'tis some gentle fair
  • Allures you still. Come, tell me truth,
  • And trust my honour—That the name?
  • That wild Charybdis yours? Poor youth!
  • O, you deserved a better flame!
  • What wizard, what Thessalian spell,
  • What god can save you, hamper'd thus?
  • To cope with this Chimaera fell
  • Would task another Pegasus.