Odes Horace Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Conington, John, translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1882. A legend, nay, a miracle,By Acherontia's nestlings told,By all in Bantine glade that dwell,Or till the rich Forentan mould.“Bears, vipers, spared him as he lay,The sacred garland deck'd his hair,The myrtle blended with the bay:The child's inspired: the gods were there.”Your grace, sweet Muses, shields me stillOn Sabine heights, or lets me rangeWhere cool Praeneste, Tibur's hill,Or liquid Baiae proffers change.