Odes

Horace

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

He chases. Why should rain today

Bring rain tomorrow? Python's foe

Is pleased sometimes his lyre to play,

Nor bends his bow.

Be brave in trouble; meet distress

With dauntless front; but when the gale

Too prosperous blows, be wise no less,

And shorten sail.

O ask not what those sons of war,

Cantabrian, Scythian, each intend,

Disjoin'd from us by Hadria's bar,

Nor puzzle, Quintius, how to spend

A life so simple. Youth removes,

And Beauty too; and hoar Decay

Drives out the wanton tribe of Loves

And Sleep, that came or night or day.

The sweet spring-flowers not always keep

Their bloom, nor moonlight shines the same

Each evening. Why with thoughts too deep

O'ertask a mind of mortal frame?