Odes

Horace

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

Yet I, who chase you, no grim lion am,

No tiger fell, to crush you in my gripe:

Come, learn to leave your dam.

For lover's kisses ripe.

Why blush to let our tears unmeasured fall

For one so dear? Begin the mournful stave,

Melpomene, to whom the sire of all

Sweet voice with music gave.

And sleeps he then the heavy sleep of death,

Quintilius? Piety, twin sister dear

Of Justice! naked Truth! unsullied Faith!

When will ye find his peer?