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

  • For ease, in wide Aegean caught,
  • The sailor prays, when clouds are hiding
  • The moon, nor shines of starlight aught
  • For seaman's guiding:
  • For ease the Mede, with quiver gay:
  • For ease rude Thrace, in battle cruel:
  • Can purple buy it, Grosphus? Nay,
  • Nor gold, nor jewel.
  • No pomp, no lictor clears the way
  • 'Mid rabble-routs of troublous feelings,
  • Nor quells the cares that sport and play
  • Round gilded ceilings.
  • More happy he whose modest board
  • His father's well-worn silver brightens;
  • No fear, nor lust for sordid hoard,
  • His light sleep frightens.
  • Why bend our bows of little span?
  • Why change our homes for regions under
  • Another sun? What exiled man
  • From self can sunder?