Odes

Horace

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

  • The rain, it rains not every day
  • On the soak'd meads; the Caspian main
  • Not always feels the unequal sway
  • Of storms, nor on Armenia's plain,
  • Dear Valgius, lies the cold dull snow
  • Through all the year; nor northwinds keen
  • Upon Garganian oakwoods blow,
  • And strip the ashes of their green.
  • You still with tearful tones pursue
  • Your lost, lost Mystes; Hesper sees
  • Your passion when he brings the dew,
  • And when before the sun he flees.
  • Yet not for loved Antilochus
  • Grey Nestor wasted all his years
  • In grief; nor o'er young Troilus
  • His parents' and his sisters' tears
  • For ever flow'd. At length have done
  • With these soft sorrows; rather tell
  • Of Caesar's trophies newly won,
  • And hoar Niphates' icy fell,