Odes

Horace

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

You know not you are Jove's own dame:

Away with sobbing; be resign'd

To greatness: you shall give your name

To half mankind.”

Neptune's feast-day! what should man

Think first of doing? Lyde mine, be bold,

Broach the treasured Caecuban,

And batter Wisdom in her own stronghold.

Now the noon has pass'd the full,

Yet sure you deem swift Time has made a halt,

Tardy as you are to pull

Old Bibulus' wine-jar from its sleepy vault.

I will take my turn and sing

Neptune and Nereus' train with locks of green;

You shall warble to the string

Latona and her Cynthia's arrowy sheen.

Hers our latest song, who sways

Cnidos and Cyclads, and to Paphos goes

With her swans, on holydays;

Night too shall claim the homage music owes.