Odes

Horace

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

  • Wreath me plain myrtle; never think
  • Plain myrtle either's wear unfitting,
  • Yours as you wait, mine as I drink
  • In vine-bower sitting.
  • The broils that from Metellus date,
  • The secret springs, the dark intrigues,
  • The freaks of Fortune, and the great
  • Confederate in disastrous leagues,
  • And arms with uncleansed slaughter red,
  • A work of danger and distrust,
  • You treat, as one on fire should tread
  • Scarce hid by treacherous ashen crust.
  • Let Tragedy's stern muse be mute
  • Awhile; and when your order'd page
  • Has told Rome's tale, that buskin'd foot
  • Again shall mount the Attic stage,