Odes

Horace

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

And she, who makes the peaceful lyre submit,

Forbid me to impair great Caesar's fame

And yours by my weak wit.

But who may fitly sing of Mars array'd

In adamant mail, or Merion, black with dust

Of Troy, or Tydeus' son by Pallas' aid

Strong against gods to thrust?

Feasts are my theme, my warriors maidens fair,

Who with pared nails encounter youths in fight;

Be Fancy free or caught in Cupid's snare,

Her temper still is light.

Let others Rhodes or Mytilene sing,

Or Ephesus, or Corinth, set between

Two seas, or Thebes, or Delphi, for its king

Each famous, or Thessalian Tempe green;

There are who make chaste Pallas' virgin tower

The daily burden of unending song,

And search for wreaths the olive's rifled bower:

The praise of Juno sounds from many a tongue,

Telling of Argos' steeds, Mycenae's gold.