Odes

Horace

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

  • Yet again thou wak'st the flame
  • That long had slumber'd! Spare me, Venus, spare!
  • Trust me, I am not the same
  • As in the reign of Cinara, kind and fair.
  • Cease thy softening spells to prove
  • On this old heart, by fifty years made hard,
  • Cruel Mother of sweet Love!
  • Haste, where gay youth solicits thy regard.
  • With thy purple cygnets fly
  • To Paullus' door, a seasonable guest;
  • There within hold revelry,
  • There light thy flame in that congenial breast.
  • He, with birth and beauty graced,
  • The trembling client's champion, ne'er tongue-tied,
  • Master of each manly taste,
  • Shall bear thy conquering banners far and wide.
  • Let him smile in triumph gay,
  • True heart, victorious over lavish hand,
  • By the Alban lake that day
  • 'Neath citron roof all marble shalt thou stand: