Odes

Horace

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

No, not Chimaera's fiery breath,

Nor Gyas, could he rise again,

Shall part us; Justice, strong as death,

So wills it; so the Fates ordain.

Whether 'twas Libra saw me born

Or angry Scorpio, lord malign

Of natal hour, or Capricorn,

The tyrant of the western brine,

Our planets sure with concord strange

Are blended. You by Jove's blest power

Were snatch'd from out the baleful range

Of Saturn, and the evil hour

Was stay'd, when rapturous benches full

Three times the auspicious thunder peal'd;

Me the curst trunk, that smote my skull,

Had slain; but Faunus, strong to shield

The friends of Mercury, check'd the blow

In mid descent. Be sure to pay

The victims and the fane you owe;

Your bard a humbler lamb will slay.