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

  • The gales of Thrace, that hush the unquiet sea,
  • Spring's comrades, on the bellying canvas blow:
  • Clogg'd earth and brawling streams alike are free
  • From winter's weight of snow.
  • Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain,
  • Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time
  • Of Cecrops' house, for bloody vengeance ta'en
  • On foul barbaric crime.
  • The keepers of fat lambkins chant their loves
  • To silvan reeds, all in the grassy lea,
  • And pleasure Him who tends the flocks and groves
  • Of dark-leaved Arcady.
  • It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine:
  • But would you taste the grape's Calenian juice,
  • Client of noble youths, to earn your wine
  • Some nard you must produce.
  • A tiny box of nard shall bring to light
  • The cask that in Sulpician cellar lies:
  • O, it can give new hopes, so fresh and bright,
  • And gladden gloomy eyes.