Odes

Horace

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

  • Or if your choice be that rude pike,
  • New barb'd with death, leap down and ask
  • The wind to bear you. Would you like
  • The bondmaid's task,
  • You, child of kings, a master's toy,
  • A mistress' slave?’” Beside her, lo!
  • Stood Venus smiling, and her boy
  • With unstrung bow.
  • Then, when her laughter ceased, “Have done
  • With fume and fret,” she cried, “my fair;
  • That odious bull will give you soon
  • His horns to tear.
  • You know not you are Jove's own dame:
  • Away with sobbing; be resign'd
  • To greatness: you shall give your name
  • To half mankind.”
  • Neptune's feast-day! what should man
  • Think first of doing? Lyde mine, be bold,
  • Broach the treasured Caecuban,
  • And batter Wisdom in her own stronghold.