Odes

Horace

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

Him shall never fiery steed

Draw in Achaean car a conqueror seated;

Him shall never martial deed

Show, crown'd with bay, after proud kings defeated,

Climbing Capitolian steep:

But the cool streams that make green Tibur flourish,

And the tangled forest deep,

On soft Aeolian airs his fame shall nourish.

Rome, of cities first and best,

Deigns by her sons' according voice to hail me

Fellow-bard of poets blest,

And faint and fainter envy's growls assail me.

Goddess, whose Pierian art

The lyre's sweet sounds can modulate and measure,

Who to dumb fish canst impart

The music of the swan, if such thy pleasure:

O, 'tis all of thy dear grace

That every finger points me out in going

Lyrist of the Roman race;

Breath, power to charm, if mine, are thy bestowing!