Odes

Horace

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

  • Bid the lyre and cittern play;
  • Enkindle incense, shed the victim's gore;
  • Heaven has watch'd o'er Numida,
  • And brings him safe from far Hispania's shore.
  • Now, returning, he bestows
  • On each dear comrade all the love he can;
  • But to Lamia most he owes,
  • By whose sweet side he grew from boy to man.
  • Note we in our calendar
  • This festal day with whitest mark from Crete:
  • Let it flow, the old wine-jar,
  • And ply to Salian time your restless feet.
  • Damalis tosses off her wine,
  • But Bassus sure must prove her match tonight.
  • Give us roses all to twine,
  • And parsley green, and lilies deathly white.
  • Every melting eye will rest
  • On Damalis' lovely face; but none may part
  • Damalis from our new-found guest;
  • She clings, and clings, like ivy, round his heart.