Odes

Horace

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

  • Else added to the insatiate main.
  • Then through the wild Aegean roar
  • The breezes and the Brethren Twain
  • Shall waft my little boat ashore.
  • And now 'tis done: more durable than brass
  • My monument shall be, and raise its head
  • O'er royal pyramids: it shall not dread
  • Corroding rain or angry Boreas,
  • Nor the long lapse of immemorial time.
  • I shall not wholly die: large residue
  • Shall 'scape the queen of funerals. Ever new
  • My after fame shall grow, while pontiffs climb
  • With silent maids the Capitolian height.
  • “Born,” men will say, “where Aufidus is loud,
  • Where Daunus, scant of streams, beneath him bow'd
  • The rustic tribes, from dimness he wax'd bright,
  • First of his race to wed the Aeolian lay
  • To notes of Italy.” Put glory on,
  • My own Melpomene, by genius won,
  • And crown me of thy grace with Delphic bay.