Odes

Horace

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

So Bacchus, with the vine-wreath round his hair,

Gives prosperous issue to his votary's prayer.

Think not those strains can e'er expire,

Which, cradled 'mid the echoing roar

Of Aufidus, to Latium's lyre

I sing with arts unknown before.

Though Homer fill the foremost throne,

Yet grave Stesichorus still can please,

And fierce Alcaeus holds his own

With Pindar and Simonides.

The songs of Teos are not mute,

And Sappho's love is breathing still:

She told her secret to the lute,

And yet its chords with passion thrill.

Not Sparta's queen alone was fired

By broider'd robe and braided tress,

And all the splendours that attired

Her lover's guilty loveliness:

Not only Teucer to the field

His arrows brought, nor Ilion