Odes Horace Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Conington, John, translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1882. From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.The future trust with Jove; when heHas still'd the warring tempests' roarOn the vex'd deep, the cypress-treeAnd aged ash are rock'd no more.O, ask not what the morn will bring,But count as gain each day that chanceMay give you; sport in life's young spring,Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,While years are green, while sullen eldIs distant. Now the walk, the game,The whisper'd talk at sunset held,