Odes

Horace

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

Grant me your presence, blithe and fain

Mad Bosporus shall my bark explore;

My foot shall tread the sandy plain

That glows beside Assyria's shore;

'Mid Briton tribes, the stranger's foe,

And Spaniards, drunk with horses' blood,

And quiver'd Scythians, will I go

Unharm'd, and look on Tanais' flood.

When Caesar's self in peaceful town

The weary veteran's home has made,

You bid him lay his helmet down

And rest in your Pierian shade.

Mild thoughts you plant, and joy to see

Mild thoughts take root. The nations know

How with descending thunder he

The impious Titans hurl'd below,

Who rules dull earth and stormy seas,

And towns of men, and realms of pain,

And gods, and mortal companies,

Alone, impartial in his reign.