UC-NRLF B M DS3 b3h ^/<^ .<>>. nV-^ THE y^^ \ -^'0'^ y ODES OF HORACE, TMNSUTED INTO ENGLISH VERSE, WITH- A LIFE AND NOTES, BT THEODOKE MARTIN. BOSTON: TIOKNOR AND FIELDS M DCCC LXVI. 11 '' i y P'^.^^^'^^'cAWlSica. \ What practice, howsoe'er expert, In fitting aptest words to things ; Or voice, the richest-toned that sings. Hath power to give thee as thou wert ? Tenntsoit. I ■ University Press, Cambridge : Stereotyped and Printed by "Welch, Bigelow, & Co. Pa ^3i^ LIFE OF HORACE. Univ- or CALirORMiA LIFE OF HORACE. Horace is his own biographer. All the mate- rial facts of his personal history are to be gathered from allusions scattered throughout his poems. A memoir, attributed to Suetonius, of somewhat doubtful authenticity, furnishes a few additional details, but none of moment, either as to his char- acter or career. Quintus Horatius Flaccus was born vi. Id. De<.. A. u. C. 689 (Dec. 8, B.C. 65), during the consul- ship of L. Aurelius Cotta and L. Manlius Tor- quatus. His father was a freedman, and it was lon2 considered that he had been a slave of some member of the great family of the Horatii, whose name, in accordance with a common usage, he had assumed. But this theoiy has latterly given place to the suggestion, based upon inscriptions, that he was a freedman of the town of Venusia, the mod- ern Venosa, the inhabitants of which belonged to the Horatian tribe. The question is, however, of no importance in its bearings on the poet's life. The elder Horace had received his manumission M10434'? A*; 6 LIFE OF HORACE. r r I r before !hi3 son was "oom. He Lad realized a mod- erate independence ,in the vocation of co-actor, a name' bo'rne'iodifterently by the collectors of pub- lic revenue, and of money at sales by public auc- tion. To which of these classes he belonged is uncertain, but most probably to the latter. With the fruits of his industry he had purchased a small prop- erty near Venusia, upon the banks of the Aufidus, the modern Ofanto, in the midst of the Apennines, upon the doubtful boundaries of Lucania and Apu- lia. Here the poet was born, and in this pictu- resque region of mountain, forest, and stream the boy became imbued with the love of nature, which distinguished him through life. He describes himself (Ode IV. B. 3) as having lost his way, when a child, upon Mount Vultur, and being found asleep, under a covering of laurel and myrtle leaves, which the wood-pigeons had spread to shield this favourite of the gods from snakes and wild animals. The augury of the fu- ture poet said to have been drawn from the inci- dent at the time was probably an afterthought of Horace himself, who had not forgotten Anacreon and the bees; biit, whatever may be thought of the omen, the picture of the strayed child, asleep with his hands full of spring flowers, is pleasing. In his father's house, and in those of the Apulian peasantry around him, Horace had opportunities of becoming familiar with the simple virtues of the poor, — their independence, integrity, chastity, and homely worth, — which he loved to contrast with LIFE OF HORACE. 7 the luxury and vicWDf ^ftnpelral Roilii^- V0£ his mother no mentloh ckjcuts, directly , or .indirectly, throughout his poeciiw^^^iis'CO'tild -sCaFcely have happened, had she not died while he was very young. He appears also to have been an only child. No doubt he had at an early age given evi- dence of superior powers ; and to this it may have been in some measure owing, that his father re- solved to give him a higher education than could be obtained under a provincial schoolmaster, and, although ill able to aiford the expense, took him to Eome when about twelve years old, and gave him the best education which the capital could supply. No money was spared to enable the boy to keep his position among his fellow-scholars of the higher ranks. He was waited on by numerous slaves, as though he were the heir to a considerable fortune. At the same time he was not allowed to feel any shame for his own order, or to aspire to a position which he was unequal to maintain. His father tauo^ht him to look forward to fiUing; some situation akin to that in which he had himself acquired a competency, and to feel that in any sphere culture and self-respect must command influence, and af- ford the best guarantee for happiness. Under the stern tutorage of Orbilius Pupillus, a grammarian of high standing, richer in reputation than gold, whose undue exercise of the rod the poet has con- demned to a bad immortality, he learned grammar, and became familiar with the earber Latin writers, and with Homer. He also acquired such other 8 LIFE OF HORACE. branclies of instruction as were usually learned by the sons of Romans of the higher ranks. But, what was of still more importance, during this criti- cal period of his first introduction to the seductions of the capital, he enjoyed the advantage of his father's personal superintendence, and of a careful moral training. His father went with him to all his classes, and, being himself a man of shrewd observation and natural humour, he gave his son's studies a practical bearing, by directing his atten- tion to the follies and vices of the luxurious and dissolute society around him, and showing their incompatibility with the dictates of reason and common sense. From this admirable father Hor- ace appears to have gathered many of •' the rug- ged maxims hewn from life," with which his works abound, and also to have inherited that manly in- dependence for which he was remarkable, and which, while assigning to all ranks their due influ- ence and respect, never either overestimates or compromises its own. Under the homely exterior of the Apulian freedman we recognize the soul of the gentleman. His influence on his son was man- ifestly great. In the full maturity of his powers Horace penned a tribute to his worth,* in terms which prove how often and how deeply he had oc- casion in after-life to be grateful for the bias thus early communicated. His father's character had * For a translation of the passage in the Sixth Satire of the First Book, here referred to, see note, infra, p. 283. LIFE OF HORACE. 9 given a tone and strength to Ms own wHcL, in the midst of manifold temptations, had kept him true to himself and to his genius. At what afje Horace lost his father is uncertain Most probably this event occurred before he left Rome for Athens, to complete his education in the Greek literature and philosophy, under native teachers. This he did some time between the age of seventeen and twenty. At Athens he found many young men of the leading Roman families — Bibulus, Messala, the younger Cicero, and others — engaged in the same pursuits with himself. His works prove him to have been no careless student of the classics of Grecian literatm-e, and, with a natural enthusiasm, he made his first poetical es- savs in their flexible and noble lano-uase. His usual good sense, however, soon caused him to abandon the hopeless task of emulating the Greek writers on their own ground, and he directed his efibrts to transfusing into his own language some of the grace and melody of these masters of song. In the political lull between the battle of Pharsalia, A. u. c. 706 (b. c. 48), and the death of Julius Caesar, A. u. c. 710 (b. c. 44), Horace was enabled to devote himself without interruption to the tran- quil pursuits of the scholar. But when, after the latter event, Brutus came to Athens, and the pa- trician youth of Rome, fired with zeal for the cause of republican liberty, joined his standard, Horace, infected by the general enthusiasm, accepted a mihtarv command in the ai'mv which was destined 1* 10 LIFE OF HORACE. to encounter the legions of Anthony and Octavius. His rank was that of tribune, a position of so much importance, that he must have been indebted for it either to the personal friendship of Brutus or to an extraordinary dearth of officers, as he was not only without experience or bu'th to recommend him, but possessed no particular aptitude, physical or moral, for a military life. His appointment excited jealousy among his brother officers, who considered that the command of a Roman legion should have been reserved for men of nobler blood ; and here probably he first came into direct collision with the aristocratic prejudices which the training of his father had taught him to defy, and which, at a subsequent period, grudged to the freedman's son the friendship of the emperor and of Maecenas. At the same time he had manifestly a strong party of friends, who had learned to appreciate his ge- nius and attractive qualities. It is certain that he secured the esteem of his commanders, and bore an active part in the perils and difficulties of the cam- paign, which terminated in the total defeat of the republican party at Philippi, a. u. c. 712 (b. c. 42). A playful allusion by himself to the events of that disastrous field (Odes, 11. vii. 9 et seq.) has bt^cn turned by many of his commentators into an ad- mission of his own cowardice. This is absurd. Such a confession is the very last which any man, least of all a Roman, would make. Addressing his friend Pompeius Varius, Horace says : " With thee I shared Philippi's headlong flight, My shield behind me left, which was not well, LIFE OF HORACE. 11 When all that brave array was broke, and fell In the Tile dust full many a towering wight." That Arcliilochus and Alcoeus ran away on tte field of battle, leaving their shields behind them, may or may not be true ; but, however anxious to rank with them as poets, Horace was not likely to carry the parallel into details disgraceful to his manhood. An allusion, like the above, to the loss of his shield, could only have been dropped by a man who felt that he had done his duty, and that it was known he had done it. The lines may thus be safely regarded, according to the views of Les- sing and others, as a not ungraceful compliment to his friend, who continued the struggle against the triumvirate with the party who threw themselves into the fleet of Sextus Pompeius. This interpre- tation is confirmed by the language of the next verse, where, in the same spirit, he applies the epi- thet "paventem" to himself. *' But me, poor trembler, swift Mercurius bore, Wrapp'd in a cloud through all the hostile din, While war's tumultuous eddies, closing in, Swept thee away into the strife once more." It was no discredit to Horace to have despaired of a cause which its leaders had given up. After the suicide of Brutus and Cassius, the continuance of the contest was hopeless ; and Horace may in his short military career have seen, in the jealousy and selfish ambition of many of his party, enough to make him suspicious of success, even if that had been attainable. Kepublicans who sneered at the 12 LIFE OF HORACE. freedman's son were not likely to found any system of liberty worthy of the name. On his way back to Italy, Horace narrowly es- caped shipwreck off Cape Palinurus, on the coast of Sicily, an incident to which several allusions will be found in his Odes ; * and he reached home, only to find his paternal acres confiscated. His life was spared, but nothing was left him to sustain it but his pen and his good spirits. He had to write for bread, — Paupertas impulii audax ut versus facerem, (Epist. n. ii. 51,) — and in so doing he appears to have acquired not only considerable repute, but also sufficient means to purchase the place of scribe in the Qusestor's office, a sort of sinecure clerkship of the Treasury, which he continued to hold for many years, if not, indeed, to the close of his life. It was upon his return to Rome that he made the acquaintance of Virgil and Varius, who were al- readv famous, and to them he was indebted for his introduction to Msecenas. The particulars of his first interview with his patron he has himself re- corded. (^Sat. I. vi. 55 et seq.) It is a curious cir- cumstance in the histoiy of a friendship, among the closest and most affectionate on record, that nine months elapsed after their meeting before j\Iaece- nas again summoned the poet to his house, and en- rolled him in the list of his intimate fi-iends. This * It is quite possible that this incident may liave occurred when Horace was on his way to Greece, or on some subsequent occasion, when he was goiug for health or pleasure to \tlia or Tareutum. There is no conclusive evidence an to the date. LIFE OF HORACE. 13 event took place in the third year after the battle of Philippi ; and, as the only claim of Horace, the man of humble origin, and the retainer of a defeat- ed party, to the notice of the minister of Augustus must have been his literary reputation, it is obvious that even at this early period he had established his position among the wits and men of letters in the capital. The acquaintance rapidly ripened into mutual esteem. It secured the position of the poet in society, and the generosity of the statesman placed him above the anxieties of a literary life. Throughout the intimate intercourse of thirty years which ensued, there was no trace of condescension on the one hand, nor of servility on the other. Maecenas gave the poet a place next his heart. He must have respected the man who never used his influence to obtain those favours which were within the disposal of the emperor's minister, who cherished an honest pride in his own station, and who could be grateful without being obsequious. Horace is never weary of acknowledging how much he owes to his friend. ^Vhen he praises him, it is without flattery. When he soothes his anxieties, or calms his fears, the words glow with unmistakable sincerity. When he resists his patron's wishes, he is firm without being ungracious. When he sports with his foibles, he is familiar without the slightest shade of impertinence. By Maecenas Horace was introduced to Octavius, most probably soon after the period just referred to. In A. u. c. 717, a year after Horace had been 14 LIFE OF HORACE. admitted into the circle of his friends, Maecenas went to Brundusium, charged by Ootavius to ne- gotiate a treaty with Marcus Antonius. On this journey he was accompanied by Horace, who has left a graphic record of its incidents. (Sat. I. v.) It is probable that on this occasion, or about this time, the poet was brought to the notice of the future emperor. Between the time of his return from this journey and the year 722, Horace, who had in the mean time given to the world many of his poems, including the ten Satires of the first book, received from Maecenas the gift of the Sabine farm, which at once afforded him a competency and all the pleasures of a country life. The gift was a slight one for Maecenas to bestow, but he no doubt made it as the fittest and most welcome which he could offer to his friend. It made Horace hap- py. It gave him leisure and amusement, and op- portunities for that calm intercourse with nature which he " needed for his spirit's health." Never was a gift better bestowed or better requited. It at once prompted much of that poetry which has made Maecenas famous, and has afforded ever new delight to successive generations. The Sabine farm was situated in the valley of Ustica, about twelve miles from Tibur (Tivoli), and, among its other charms, possessed the valuable attraction for Hor- ace, that it was within an easy distance of Rome. When his spirits wanted the stimulus of society, or the bustle of the capital, which they often did, his ambling mule could speedily convey him thither ; and when jaded on the other hand by LIFE OF HORACE. 15 The noise, and strife, and questions wearisome, And the vain splendours of imperial Rome, he could by the same easy means of transport, in a few hours bury himself among the hills, and there, under the shadow of his favorite Lucretilis, or by the banks of the Digentia, either stretch himself to dream upon the grass, lulled by the murmurs of the stream, or look after the culture of his fields, and fancy himself a farmer. The site of this farm has been pretty accurately ascertained, and it is at the present day a favourite resort of travellers, especially of Englishmen, who visit it in such num- bers, and trace its features with so much enthu- siasm, that the resident peasantry, " who cannot conceive of any other source of interest in one 60 long dead and unsainted, than that of co-patriot- ism or consanguinity," believe Horace to have been an Englishman.* The property was of moderate size, and produced corn, olives, and wine, but was not highly cultivated. Here Horace spent a con- siderable part of every year. The Sabine farm was very retired, being about four miles from Varia (Vico Varo), the nearest town, well covered with timber, and traversed by a small but sparkhng stream. It gave employment to five families of free coloni, who were under the superintendence of a bailiff; and, besides these, eight slaves were attached to the poet's establishment. With his * See Letter by Mr. Dennis. Milman's Horace y London, 1849, p. 109. 16 LIFE OF HOKACE. inexpensive habits this little property was sufficient for all his wants. He describes himself as Satis heatus unicis Sabinis, With what I hare completely blest, My happy little Sabine nest. Odes, B. n. 18. Here he could entertain a stray friend from town, — his patron Maecenas, upon occasion, — and the delights of this agreeable re- treat and the charm of the poet's society, .were doubtless more than a compensation for the plain fare or the thin home-grown wine, Vile Sahinum^ with which its resources alone enabled him to re- gale them. The life of Horace from the time of his intimacy with Maecenas appears to have been one of compar- ative ease and of great social enjoyment. Augustus soon admitted him to his favour, and, according to the memoir by Suetonius, ultimately sought to at- tach him to his person in the capacity of secretary* This offer Horace was prudent and firm enough to decline ; while at the same time he had the tact not to offend the master of the world by his refusal. To the close of his life his favour at court continued without a cloud. Augustus not only liked the man, but entertained a profound admiration for the poet. Believing in the immortality of his writings, it was natural the emperor should cultivate the good will and seek to secure the " deathless meed " of his favourite's song. That Horace had fought with Brutus against him did not operate to his prejudice. To have espoused the cause, and enjoyed the con- LIFE OF HORACE. 17 fidence of one whose nobility of purpose his ad- versaries never scrupled to acknowledge, formed, indeed, in itself a claim upon his successful rival's esteem. Horace was no renegade ; he was not ashamed of the past, and Maecenas and Augustus were just the men to respect him for his indepen- dence, and to like him the better for it. They could appreciate his superiority to the herd of par- asites and time-servers around them ; and like all the greatest actors on the political stage, they were above the petty rancours of party jealousy, or the desire to enfore a renunciation of convictions oppo- site to their own. Doubtless it was by never stoop- inor to them undulv that Horace secured their esteem, and maintained himself upon a footing of equality with them, as nearly as the difference of rank would allow. There is no reason to suspect Horace, in the praises which he has recorded of Augustus, either of insincerity or sycophancy. He was able to contrast the comparative security of life and property, the absence of political turmoil, and the development of social ease and happiness, which his country enjoyed under the masterly ad- ministration of Augustus, with the disquietude and strife under which it had languished for so many years. The days of a republic had gone by, and an enlightened despotism must have been wel- comed by a country shaken by a long period of civil commotion, and sick of seeing itself played for as the stake of reckless and ambitious men. He was near enough to the councils of the world's B 18 LIFE OF HORACE. master to understand his motives and to appreciate his policy ; and liis intimate personal intercourse with both Augustus and Maecenas no doubt en- abled him to do fuller justice both to their in- tentions and their capacity, than was possible per- haps to any other man of his time. The envy which his intimacy with these two foremost men of all the world for a time excited in Roman society by degrees gave way, as years ad- vanced, and the causes of their esteem came to be ■ better understood. Their favour did not spoil him. He was ever the same kindly, urbane, and simple man of letters he had originally been, never pre- suming upon his position, nor looking superciliously on others less favoured than himself At all times generous and genial, years only mellowed his wis- dom, and gave a finer pohsh to his verse. The un- affected sincerity of his nature, and the rich vein of his genius, made him courted by the rich and noble. (Odes, 11. xviii. 9 et seq.) He mixed on easy terms with the choicest society of Home, and what must that society have been, which included Virgil, Varius, Plotius, Tibullus, Pollio, and a host of others, who were not only ripe scholars, but had borne and were bearing a leading part in the great actions and events of that memorable epoch ? It is to this period that the composition of his principal odes is to be attributed. To these, of all his writings, Horace himself appears to have as- cribed the greatest value, and, if we are to read literally the language of the last odes of the Second LIFE OF HORACE. 19 and Third Books, to have rested upon them his claims to posthumous fame. They were the result of great labor, as he himself indicates : " Operosa parvus Carmina Jingo" (Odes, IV. ii. 31); and yet they bear pre-eminently the charm of simplicity and ease. He was the first to mould the Latin tongue to the Greek lyric measures ; and his success in this difficult task may be estimated from the fact that, as he was the first, so was he the greatest of the Roman lyrists. It has become the fashion with certain grammarians of late years to decry his ver- sification as defective. It may be so, but we would rather follow the opinions of his contemporaries and countrymen on this point. Ovid expressed a dif- ferent opinion in the well-known lines : Et tenuit nostras numerosus Horatius awes, Dum ferit Ausonia carmina culta lyra. IV. Trist. Eleg. X. 49. Oft on Horatius' tuneful strains I 've hung, Whilst to his sweet Ausonian lyre he sung Quinctilian's criticism upon the Odes can scarce- Iv be improved : " Lyricorum Horatius fere solus legi dignus. Nam et insurgit aliquando, et plenus est jucunditatis et gratiae, et variis figuris, et verbis felicissime audax." In this airy and playful grace, in happy epithets, in variety of imagery, and exquisite felicity of expression, the Odes are still unsurpassed among the writings of any period or lano-uaoe. It is no doubt true that only in a few instances do they rise to grandeur of thought, or are marked by a high strain of emotion or of imagina- 20 LIFE OF HORACE. tive expression ; but if they want for the most part the inspiration of a great motive, or the fervour and resonance of the finest lyrics of Greece, they pos- sess in perfection the power of jjainting a n image or expressing a thought in the fewest andfittest words, combined_withla..xaelQdy of cade ncfc— aU ways delightful. It is these qualiti es and a pre- 'Tajfa tg^'veiii uf g eni al an dj ober wis dom, which i m- biie them with a charm quite peculiar, and have given them a hold upon the minds of educated men, whiclmo-chctnge of taste has shaken. Their beauty of expression is indeed apt to blind the reader, upon occasion, to the poverty of idea and essentially prosaic turn of many of the Odes. Strip them of their dress, indeed, and their charm van- ishes. That even the best are inferior to his Greek models is not to be wondered at. Even although Horace had possessed the genius of Pindar or Sappho, it is doubtful whether, writing as he did in an artificial language, which he was compelled to make more artificial by the adoption of Greek forms and idioms, he could have found an adequate utterance for his inspiration. But to neither of these was his genius akin ; and that good sense, which is his great characteristic, withheld him from ever either soaring too high or attempting to sustain his flight too long. His power of passion is limited, and his strokes of pathos are few and slight. His deepest tones are struck, when the decay of morals, and the selfish passions of faction, inspire him with indignation, or sadden him into despair. On these LIFE OF HORACE. tl subjects he felt intensely, and wrote with all the energy and force of strong conviction and passion- ate feeling. The individual man then becomes merged in the greatness of the theme ; but in gen- eral he plays with his subject like the skilful artist, rather than the poet, who seeks in Ij-rical verse the natural vent for his emotions. Rarely indeed do we lose sight of the poet himself in these Odes. This quality, while it is fatal to IjtIc poetry of the highest class, helps, however, to heighten the charm of the majority of them, especially those which are devoted to his friends, or which breathe the delight with which the contact with the ever fresh beauties of natural scenery inspired him. Into these he throws his whole heart, and in them we feel the fascination which made him beloved by those who came within the circle of his personal influence, and which makes him as it were the well known and intimate friend of all to whom his writ- ings are a familiar study. Horace was not and could not have been a national poet. He wrote only for cultivated men, and under the shadow of a court. Beyond a very narrow circle his works could not have been read. The verv lanoruasre in which he wrote must have been unintelligible to the people, and he had none of those popular sympathies which inspire the lyrics of Burns or Beranger. The Roman populace of his time was perhaps as little Hkely to command his respect as any which the world has ever seen ; and there was no people^ in the sense in which we 22 LIFE OF HORACE. understand the word, to appeal to. And yet Hor- ace has many points in common with Burns. " A man's a man for a' that," in the whole vein of its sentiment is thoroughly Horatian. In their large and genial views of life they are closely akin ; but the fiery glow of the peasant poet is subdued to a temperate heat in the gentler and physically less energetic nature of Horace. In his amatory verses the same distinction is visi- ble. Horace writes much about love; but he is never thoroughly in love. None of his erotic poems are vivified by those gushes of emotion which animate the love poetry of the poets we have named and of other modern song-writers. Never indeed was love less ideal or intense in a poet of unquestionable power. Horace is not in- sensible to feminine attractiveness. Pie had too much taste for that. Indeed no writer hits off with greater neatness the portrait of a beauty, or con- jures up more skilfully before his reader an image of seductive grace. But his tone is more that of a pleased spectator than of one who has loved deeply. Even in what may be assumed to be his earliest poems, the fire of genuine passion is wanting. Hor- ace's ardour seems never to have risen above the transient flush of desire. At no period of his life, so far as can be inferred from his writings, was he a man to suffer from the cruel madness of love, The honey of poison flowers, and all the measureless ill. He was as much a stranger to the headlong pas- LIFE OF HOUACE. 23 sion of the sensualist, as to the trembling reverence of the devotee. Of all that wide realm of deep emotion and imaginative tenderness, of which oc- casional traces are to be found in the literature of antiquity, and with which modern poetry, from Dante to Tennyson, is famihar, no hint is to be found in the Odes of Horace. Parabilem amo Venerem facilemque is the Alpha and Omega of his personal creed. In his view, the favouring smiles of the fairest face were not worth the pain its owner's caprices could inflict. Woman, as he knew her, was apt to be capricious. He had suf- fered from the fickleness of more than one mis- tress, but he was too honest not to feel that they had probably only forestalled him in inconstancy. Doubtless he had " sighed and looked, sighed and looked " at many a pair of fine eyes in vain, and found himself recalling to his fancy more • often than philosopher should a rosy underlip, or " the tresses of Neaera's hair ; " but if they slipped from his grasp, the pang, we may be tolerably sure, was transient. From these he escaped heart-free, with the least little touch of spleen. He seems to have known by experience just enough of the tender passion to write pretty verses about it, and to rally, not unsympathetically, such of his friends as had not escaped so lightly jrom its flame. The attempt to make out the Lydias and Lalages, the Lyces and Phrynes of his Odes as real objects of attachment is one of the many follies in 24 LIFE OF HORACE. whicli Ills commentators have wasted much dreary labour. Like Beranger, Horace might, no doubt, have sung of himself in his youth, — I J'avais k Tingt ans une folle maitresse, Des francs amis, et I'amour de chansons. The bona Cinara of his Odes and Satires was no ideal personage ; and it may fairly be assumed that his many agreeable qualities had not been without their influence upon other beauties equally suscep- tible, if not equally generous. M'ditavit non sine gloria. And even when he could count eight lus- tres, despite his own protest {Ode II. 4), his senses were probably not dead to the attractions of a fine ancle, or a pretty face, or to the fascination of a sweet smile, a musical voice, a pleasant wit, an agreeable temper, or graceful habits. But his pas- sions were too well controlled, and his love of ease too strong, to admit of the countless flirtations im- plied in the supposition that Glycera, Myrtale, and a score of others, were actual favourites of the bard. The Horace of the Satires and Epistles, the man Horace as he there lives for us, must be for- gotten before we can adopt such a conclusion. To sing of beauty has always been the poet's privilege and delight ; and to record the lover's pains an easy and popular theme. Horace, the wit and friend of wits, fell naturally into this genial strain, and sang of love and beauty according to his fash- ion. Very airy and playfiil and pleasant is that fashion, and, for his time, in the main compara- LIFE OF HORACE. 25 tively pure and chaste ; but we seek in vain for the tenderness, the negation of self, and the pathos, which are the soul of all true love poetry. " His love ditties," it has been well said, " are, as it were, like flowers, beautiful in form, and lich in hues, but without the scent that breathes to the heart." It is certain that many of them are merely imitations of Greek originals; pretty cameos cut after the antique. Horace's Satires and Epistles are less read, yet they are perhaps intrinsically more valuable than his lyric poetry. They are of very various merit, written at different periods of his life, and, although the order of their composition may be difficult to define with certainty, much may be inferred, even from the internal evidence of style and subject, as to the development of the poet's genius. As reflecting " the age and body of the time," they possess the highest historical value. Through them the modern scholar is able to form a clearer idea in all probability of the state of societv in Rome in the Auo^ustan a^e than of any other phase of social development in the history of nations. Mingling, as he did, freely with men of all ranks and passions, and himself untouched by the ambition of wealth or influence which absorbed them in the struggle of societ}', he enjoyed the best opportunities for observation, and he used them diligently. Horace's observation of char- acter is subtle and exact, his knowledge of the heart is profound, his power of graphic delineation great. A genial humoiu- plays over his verses, and a kindly 2 26 LIFE OF HORACE. wisdom dignifies ttem. Never were the maxims of social prudence and practical good sense inculcated in so pleasing a form as in the Epistles. The vein of his satire is delicate yet racy ; he keeps the in- tellect on the alert, and amuses the fancy while he rarely oifends by indelicacy or outrages by coarse- ness. For fierceness of invective, or loftiness of moral tone, he is inferior to Juvenal ; but the vices of his time were less calculated to provoke the " saeva indignatio " of the satirist of a more recent date. He deals rather with the weakness and fol- lies than with the vices or crimes of mankind, and his appeals are directed to their judgment and prac- tical sense rather than to their conscience. As a living and brilliant commentary on life, as a store- house of maxims of practical wisdom, couched in language the most apt and concise, as a picture of men and manners, which will be always fresh and always true, because they were true once, and because human nature will always reproduce itself under analogous circumstances, his Satires, and still more his Epistles, will have a permanent value for mankind. In these, as in his Odes, he inculcates what is fitting and decorous, and tends most to tran- quillity of mind and body, rather than the severe virtues of a high standard of moral purity. To live at peace with the world, to shun the extremes of avarice, luxury, and ambition, to outrage none of the laws of nature, to enjoy life wisely, and not to load it Avith cares which the lapse of a few brief years will demonstrate to be foolishness, is very nearly the LIFE OF HOKACE. 27 sum of his philosophy. Of religion, as we under- stand it, he had little. Althouorh himself httle of a practical worshipper, — parens deorum cultor et in- frequens, — he respected the sincerity of others in their belief in the old gods. But, in common with the more vigorous intellects of the time, he had out- grown the effete creed of his countrymen. He was content to use it for poetical purposes, but he coul' not accept as matter of belief the mythology, abou which the forms of the contemporary worship stili clustered. At no time very robust, Horace's health appears to have declined for some years before his death. He was doomed to see some of his most valued friends drop into the grave before him. This to him, who gave to friendship the ardour which other men give to love, was the severest wound that time could brinor. " The shocks of Chance, the blows of Death " smote him heavily ; and the failure of youth, and spirits, and health, in the inevitable de- cay of nature, saddened the thoughtful poet in his solitude, and tinged the gayest society with melan- choly. The loss of friends, the brothers of his soul, of Virgil, Quinctilius, Tibullus, and others, and ul- timately of Maecenas, without that hope of reunion which springs from the cheering faith which was soon afterwards to be revealed to the world, must have by degrees stripped life of most of its charms. Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes {Epist. 11. ii. 55) is a cheerless reflection to all, but chiefly to him who has no assured hope beyond the present 28 LIFE OF HORACE. time. Maecenas's health was a source of deep anxiety to him ; and one of the most exquisite Odes (B. n. 17), addressed to that valued friend, in an- swer to some outburst of despondency, while it ex- presses the depth of the poet's regard, bears in it the tone of a man somewhat weary of the world : — '* Ah ! if untimely fate should snatch thee hence, Thee of my soul a part, Why should I linger on, with deaden'd sense, And ever-aching heart, A worthless fragment of a fallen shrine ? No, no ! One day beholds thy death and mine ! *' Think not that I hare sworn a bootless oath ! Yes, we shall go, shall go, Hand link'd in hand, whene'er thou leadest, both The last sad road below ! " The prophecy seems to have been realized almost to the letter. The same year (a.u.c. 746, b.c. 8) witnessed the death of both Horace and Maecenas. The latter died in the middle of the year, bequeath- ing his friend, in almost his last words, to the care of Augustus : Horatii Flacci, ut mei, esto memor. On the 27th of November, when he was on the eve of completing his fifty-seventh year, Horace himself died, of an illness so sharp and sudden that he was unable to make his will in writing. He declared it verbally before witnesses, leaving to Augustus the little which he possessed. He was buried on the Esquiline Hill, near his patron and friend Maecenas. The fame of Horace was at once established. LIFE OF HORACE. 29 Even in the days of Juvenal he shared with Yirgil the doubtful honour of being a school-book. (Juve- nal, Sat. vii. 226.) That honour he still enjoys ; but it is only by minds matured by experience and re- / flection that Horace can be thoroughly appreciated. I To them the depth of his observation and the reach \ of his good sense are made daily more apparent ; ' and the verses, which charmed their fancy or de- lighted their ear in youth, became the counsellors of their manhood, or the miiTor which focalizes for their old age the gathered wisdom of a lifetime. No writer is so often quoted, and simply because the thoughts of none are more pertinent to men's *' business and bosoms " in the concerns of every- day life, amid the jostle of a crowded and artificial state of society ; and because the glimpses of nar ture, in which his writings abound, come with the freshness of truth, alike to the jaded dweller in cities, and to those who can test them day by day in the presence of nature herself. There are no authentic busts or medallions of Horace, and his descriptions of himself are vague. : He was short in stature ; his eves and hair were \ dark, but the latter was early silvered with gray. He suffered at one time from an affection of the eyes, and seems to have been by no means robust in constitution. His habits were temperate and fi'ugal, as a rule, although he was far from insensi- ble to the charms of a good table and good wine, heightening and heightened by the zest of good company. But he seems to have had neither the 30 LIFE OF HORACE. « stomach nor the taste for habitual indulgence in the pleasures of the table. In youth he was hasty and choleric, but placable ; and to the last he probably shared in some degree the irritability which he as- cribes to his class. At the same time, if his writino-s be any index to hh mind, his temper was habitually sweet and well under control. Like most playful men, a tinge of melancholy coloured his life, if that is to be called melancholy which more properly is only that feeling of the incompleteness and insuffi- ciency of life for the desires of the soul, which with all thoughtful men must be habitual. Latterly he became corpulent, and sensitive to the severity of the seasons, and sought at Baiae and Tivoli the refreshment or shelter which his mountain retreat had ceased to yield to his delicate frame. The chronology of the poems of Horace has been the source of much critical controversy. The ear- lier labors of Bentley, Masson, Dacier, and Sana- don have been followed up in modern times by those of Passow, Orelli, Walckenaer, Weber, Grote fend, and Stallbaum abroad, and of Tate and Mil- man at home. The subject is of importance in its bearings on the poet's biography ; and the general result of their investigations may be stated as fol- lows. The Satires and most of the Epodes were first in the order of composition, having been writ- ten between the years 713 and 725, after the return of Horace to Rome, and before the close of the civil wars consequent upon the defeat of Antony and his party. The two first books of Odes ap- LIFE OF HORACE. 31 peared between this period and the year 730. Then followed the first book of Epistles. The third book of Odes appears to have been composed about the year 735, the Carmen Seculare in 737, and the fourth book of 0E ni. TO Virgil's ship. Presumptuous man, in Insolence of soul, Sweeps to his aim through sacrilege and crime ; Heaven's fire for us the bold Prometheus stole By fraud unhallow'd In the olden time ; Then wasting agues, hectic fevers smote The earth, and hosts of new-born terrors spread ; And Death, till then forgetful and remote, Quicken'd his slow, inevitable tread ! On wings not given for mortal wearing durst Vain Daedalus to cleave the void of air ; Through fateful Acheron Alcldes burst : Naught is too arduous for man to dare. In our unbounded folly we aspire To heaven Itself; and such our guilty pride. We will not let great Jove forijet his Ire, Nor lay his vengeful thunderbolts aside. ODE IV. TO SESTIUS. 43 ODE IV. TO SESTIUS. Now biting Winter fled, sweet Spring is come in- stead, And barks long stranded higb and dry put out again from shore ; Now tbe ox forsakes his byre, and the husbandman his fire. And daisy-dappled meadows bloom where winter frosts lay hoar. By Cytherea led, while the moon shines overhead, The Nymphs and Graces, hand-in-hand, with alternating feet. Shake the ground, while swinking Vulcan strikes the sparkles fierce and red From the forges of the Cyclops, dun with smoke and lurid heat. 'T is the time with myrtle green to bind our glisten- ing locks. Or with flowers, wherein the loosen'd earth her- self hath newly dress'd. And to sacrifice to Faunus in some glade amidst the rocks A yearling lamb, or else a kid, if such delight him best ^ 44 OBE IV. TO SESTIUS. Death comes alike to all, — to the monarch's lordly hall, Or the hovel of the beggar, and his summons none shall stav. O Sestius, happy Sestius ! use the moments as they pass ; Far-reaching hopes are not for us, the creatures of a day. Full soon shall night enshroud thee in the Manes' phantom crowd. And the bare and narrow mansion of Pluto close thee in ; And thou shalt not banish care by the ruddy wine- cup there, Nor woo the gentle Lycidas, whom all are mad to win. ODE V. TO PYKRHA. 45 ODE V. TO PYRKHA. Say, Pyrrha, say, what slender boy, With locks all dropping balm, on roses laid, Doth now with thee in pleasant grotto toy ? For whom dost thou thine amber tresses braid, Array'd with simple elegance ? Alas ! alas ! How oft shall he deplore The alter'd gods, and thy perfidious glance, And, new to danger, shrink, when sea waves roar, Chafed by the surly winds, who now Enjoyeth thee, all golden as thou art ; And hopes, fond fool ! through every change, that thou Wilt welcome him as fondly to thy heart ! Nor doth not know, how shift the while The fairest gales beneath the sunniest skies ; tJnhappy he, who, weeting not thy guile, 'Basks in the sunshine of thy flattering eyes ! My votive tablet, duly set Against the temple's wall, doth witness keep, That I, whilere, my vestments dank and wet Hung at the shrine of Him that rules the deep. 46 ODE VI. TO AGRIPPA. ODE VI. TO AGRIPPA. By Varius shall thy prowess be In strains Meeonic chaunted, The victories by land and sea, Our gallant troops, led on by thee, Have won with swords undaunted. Such themes, Agrippa, never hath My lyre essay'd, nor bold Pelides' unrelenting wrath, Nor artfuUest Ulysses' path O'er oceans manifold ; Nor woes of Pelops' fated line ; Such flights too soaring are ! Nor doth my bashful Muse incline, Great Csesar's eulogies and thine With its thin notes to mai\ Who, who shall sing, with accents just Mars' adamantine mail, Or Merioii, .a'imed with Trojan dust, Or him who, strong in Pallas' trust, Made even gods to quail ? Heart-whole, or pierced by Cupid's sting. In careless mirthfulness. Of banquets we, and maidens sing, With nails cut closely skirmishing, When lovers hotly press. I ODE VII. TO MUNATIUS PL ANGUS. 47 ODE VII. TO MUNATIUS PLANCUS. Some will laud fair Mytilene, — Rhodes, where many wonders be, — Some great Ephesus, or Corinth Watered by its double sea ; Thebes renown'd for Bacchus, Delphi Famous for Apollo's shrine, Others praise Thessalian Tempe, And its thousand charms divine ; Some the towers of spotless Pallas Chaunt, nor ask another theme, Thence to pluck an olive garland, All their pride and all their dream. Many a bard, in Juno's honor. Makes the burden of his lyre Rich Mycenas, grassy Argos, Famous for its steeds of fire. Me nor patient Lacedemon, Nor Larissa's fertile plain, Like Albunea's echoing fountain All my inmost heart hath ta'en. Give me Anio's headlong ton^ent. And Tiburnus' grove and hills. And its orchards sparkling dewy With a thousand wimpling rills. 48 ODE VII. TO MUNATIUS PLANCUS. As tlie sunny sontliwlnd often Sweeps the louring clouds away, Nor with showers unceasing ever Loads the long and dreary day, Plancus, so do thou remember Still to cheer with balmy wine All the care and grief and travail Of this toilworn life of thine ; Whether in the throng'd camp, gleaming With a thousand spears, or laid On the turf beneath the umbrage Of thy loved Tiburtine glade. Teucer, though an outcast hunted From his native Salamis, Hunted by a father's anger, Natheless — as the legend is — On his forehead wet with revel First a wreath of poplar bound, Then his comrades thus accosted. As they sadly stood around. " Wheresoever Fortune, kinder Than my sire, our voyage bends. Thither shall we go together, O my comrades, brothers, friends ! Teucer for your leader, — marshall'd Under Teucer's guiding star, Wliat shall stay, or what shall daunt us ? Hence, then, craven fears, afar ! For I hold Apollo's promise, That in other climes a new Salamis shall rise around us, Fairer, nobler to the view ! Now, ye brave hearts, that have weather'd Many a sorer strait with me, Chase your cares Avith wine, — to-morrow We shall plough the mighty sea ! " ODE VIII. TO LTDIA. 4$ ODE YIII. TO LYDIA. Why, Lvdia, -^hv, I pray, by all the gods above, Art so resolved that Sybaris should die, And all for love ? Why doth he shun The Campus Martius' sultry glare ? He that once reck'd of neither dust nor sun, Why rides he there, First of the brave, Taming the Gallic steed no more ? Why doth he shrink from Tiber's yellow wave ? Why thus abhor The wrestlers' oil, As 't were from viper's tongue distill'd ? Why do his arms no livid bruises soil, He, once so skill'd. The disc or dart Far, far beyond the mark to hurl ? And tell'me, tell me, in what nook apart, Like baby girl. Lurks the poor boy, Veiling his manhood, as did Thetis' son, To 'scape war's bloody clang, while fated Troy Was yet undone ? ^ 3 l> 50 ODE VIII. TO LYDIA. THE SAME PARAPHRASED. Nay, Lydia, 't is too bad, it is, Thus to inflame poor Sybaris. Be merciful, you puss, or, sooth, You '11 soon make worms'-meat of the youth. He 's finished, floor'd, and all agree, Was never man so changed as he ! Before his eyes by love were seal'd, He headed every hunting field. In horsemanship could all eclipse, And was the very best of whips. With skulls he was a match for Clasper, His bat at cricket was a rasper. And ne'er was eye or hand so quick With gloves, or foil, or single stick ; A very stag to run or jump, — In short, he was a thorough trump. But now, what way his time he spends, Heaven only knows ! He 's cut his friends. And, to complete his ruin quicker, He neither smokes nor takes his liquor. He 's never seen, and now, they say He 's fairly bolted, stolen away ! Where have you hid him, Lydia, where ? You have him with you I could swear. And, in your cast-off' gown array'd, He minces as your lady's maid. ODE IX, TO THALIARCHUS. 51 ODE IX. TO THALIARCHUS. Look out, my Thaliarchus, round ! Soracte's crest is white with snow, The drooping branches sweep the ground, And, fast in icy fetters bound, The streams have ceased to flow. Pile up fresh logs upon the hearth. To thaw the nipping cold, And forth from Sabine jar, to wing Our mirth, the ruddy vine-juice bring Four mellowing summers old. o Leave to the gods all else ; when free They set the surly winds, To grapple on the yeasty sea In headlong strife, the cypress-tree, The old ash respite finds. Let not to-morrow's changre or chance Perplex thee, but as gain Count each new day ! Let beauty's glance Engage thee, and the merry dance, Nor deem such pleasures vain ! Gloom is for age. Younor hearts should glow With fancies bright and free. 52 ODE IX. TO THALIARCHUS. Should court tlie crowded walk, the show, And at dim eve love's murmurs low Beneath the trj'sting tree ; The laugh from the sly corner, where Our girl is hiding fast, The struggle for the lock of hair, The half well pleased, half angry air, The yielded kiss at last. ODE X. TO iTERCUKT. 63 ODE X. TO MERCUEY. Mercurius, Atlas' grandchild eloquent, Who didst to gentle ways man's primal race By language mould, and their uncouth limbs lent The gymnast's grace, Herald of mighty Jove, and all the gods. Lord of the cm-ved lyre, who canst at will Filch for thy sport, whate'er may be the odds, I '11 hymn thee still ! When with loud threats he charged thee to forego The kine, thy impish craft fi-om him had wiled, Even while he spoke, of quiver reft and bow, Apollo smiled. Quitting his halls, by thee rich Priam led Stole past the watchfires round Troy's leaguer'd wall, And through the Grecian camp in safety sped, Unseen of all. Thou guid'st to bliss the spirits of the just, Driving the phantoms with thy golden rod, In heaven and hell beloved and held in trust By every god 1 54 ODE XI. TO LEUCONOE. ODE XI. TO LEUCONOE, Ask not of fate to show ye, — Such lore is not for man, — What limits, Leuconoe, *) Shall round life's little span. Koth thou and I ]Must quickly die ! Content thee, then, nor madly hope To wrest a false assurance from Chaldean horoscope. Far nobler, belter were it, Whate'er may be in store, With soul serene to bear it ; If winters many more Jove spare for thee. Or this shall be The last, that now with sullen roar Scatters the Tuscan surge in foam upon the rock- bound shore. Be wise, your spirit jfiring With cups of temper'd wine, And hopes afar as])iring In compass brief confine. Use all life's powers, The envious hours Fly as we talk ; then live to-day, Kor fondly to to-morrow trust more than you must and may. * A license, allowable it is hoped, has been taken in lengthen- ing the pcuultimate syllable of this lady's beautiful name. ODE XII. TO AUGUSTUS. 55 ODE XII. TO AUGUSTUS. What man, wliat hero, Clio, wilt thou sing, With lyre or fluting shrill ? What god, whose name shall sportive echo ring On Helicon's umbrageous hill. Or Pindus' steepy crest, or Haemus ever chill ? Whose groves reel'd after Orpheus, and his song, Who by its spell could stay The rushing sweep of streams and tempests strong, And by his tuneful harpings sway The listening oaks to move where'er he led the way. What shall I sing before his praise, who reigns The world's great sire, and guides Of men and gods the pleasures and the pains. Who rules the land and ocean's tides. And change of seasons meet for the vast earth pro- vides? From whom springs none that mightier is than he, Nor other can we trace. Of equal might, or second in degree ; Yet Pallas fills the honour'd place Next to her sire, upraised o'er all the Olympian race. 56 ODE XII. TO AUGUSTUS. Nor, Bacchus, bold in battle, shall thy- fame My numbers fail to show. And, virgin huntress of the woods, thy name In answering strains shall flow, And thine, Apollo, thine, god of the unerring bow ! Alcides, too, and Leda's sons I '11 sound In echoina; sonjj afar For wrestling this, that for the race renown'd, Soon as whose clear effulgent star Upon the shipman gleams, amid the tempest'c war, Down from the rocks subsides the weltering spray, The winds in zephyrs creep, The clouds disperse, that veil d the gladsome day, And on the wild and wasteful deep The threat'ning waves — such power is theirs — are luU'd to sleep. Wliat next shall fill the burden of my strain, I wist not to decide ; Or Romulus, or Numa's tranquil reign, Or Tarquin towering in his pride. Or him of Utica, the brave, that nobly died. Next Regulus, and the Scauri, Paulus too. That flung his soul away. His mighty soul, when Punic foes o'erthrew Our strength on Cannje's fatal day. With grateful pride I'll chaunt in my undying lay; Fabricius too, and Curius of the locks Unkempt, — Camillus, — all Nurtured to warfare by the daily shocks Of stern privation, in the small Paternal farm and cot that made of wealth their all. ODE XII. TO AUGUSTUS. 57 With growth occult, as shoots the vigorous tree, Marc ell us' fame doth grow ; The star of Julius shines resplendently, Eclipsing all the starry row, As 'mid the lesser fires bright Luna's lamp doth glow. Thou sire and guardian of all human kind, Saturnian Jove, to thee The care of mighty Caesar was assign'd By the o'erruling fates, and he Next to thyself in power our sovereign lord shall be. Whether he quell the Parthian threatening spoU To Latium, and lead The foe, that would insult our natal soil, In spotless triumph, — or the Mede Subdue, and other foes, the sweltering East doth breed ; Next under thee, his righteous hand shall make The world his rule obey ; Ohinpus thou with thy dread car shalt shake. Thou shalt thy vengeful bolts array A-gainst the groves, wherein foulj^rgies shrink from day. 3* 58 ODE XIII. TO LYDIA. ODE XIII. TO LYDIA. Lydta, when so oft the charms Of Telephus you bid me note, Taunt me with his snowy arms, Rosy cheek, and shapely throat, Within my breast I feel the fires Of wild and desperate desires. Then reels my brain, then on my cheek The shifting colour comes and goes. And tears, that flow unbidden, speak The torture of my inward throes, Tlie fierce unrest, the deathless flame, That slowly macerates my fi'ame. O agony ! to trace where he Has smutch'd thy shoulders ivory-white Amid his tipsy revelry ; Or where, in trance of fierce delight, Upon thy lips the frenzied boy Has left the records of his joy. Hope not such love can last for aye, (But thou art deaf to words of mine !) Such selfish love, as ruthlessly Could wound those kisses all divine, Which Venus steeps in sweets mtense Of her own nectar's quintessence. ODE Xm. TO LYDIA. O, trebly blest, and blest forever, _ Are they whom true affection binds, In wliom no doubts nor j anglings sever The union of their constant minds ; But life in blended current flows, Serene and sunny to the close ! 59 60 ODE XIV. TO THE REPUBLIC. ODE XIV. TO THE EEPUBLIC. O BARK, fresli waves shall hurry thee, Yet once again, far out to sea ; Beware, beware ; and boldly seize The port, where thou may'st ride at ease I Dost thou not see, thy side is shorn Of all its oars, thy mainmast torn, And hear thy lanyards moan and shriek, And all thy straining timbers creak, Too frail to meet the surge around. Though plank to plank with cables bound. Thy sails are rent ; nor gods hast thou, When danger threats, to hear thy vow ; Although thou art a Pontic pine, A woodland child of noble hne, Vain, vain amid the tempest's rage Such vaunted name and lineage ! No trust hath fearful marinere In gilded prow ; so thou beware ! Unless it be thy doom to form The sport and pastime of the storm. O thovi, that erewhile wert to me A heavy-sad anxiety, And now my fond ambition art, The cai-e that chicflv fills mv heart, O, be advised, and shun the seas, That wash the shining Cyclades ! ODE XV. THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS. 61 ODE XV. THE PEOPHECY OF NEREUS. As the treaclierous slieplierd bore over tlie deep His hostess, fair Helena, Nereus arose, Hush'd the war of the winds for a season to sleep, And thus sang the doom of retributive woes. *' Thou bearest her home with an omen of dread, Whom Greece shall reclaim, with her myriads vow'd To tear, by the sword, thy false mate from thy bed, And crush Priam's empire, the ancient, the proud. " Horse and man, how they labour ! What deaths shall o'erwhelm. And all for thy crime, the Dardanians in night ! See Pallas preparing her aegis and helm. Her chariot, and all the fierce frenzy of fight ! " Go, trim as thou wilt, boy, thy loose flowing curls, Go, vaunt thee, that Venus shall shield thee ft-om wrong, And, laid with thy lute 'midst a bevy of girls, TroU thy measures effeminate all the day long. " Ay, hide an' thou may'st in the couch of thy lust From the death-dealing spear, and the arrows of Crete, 62 ODE XV. THE PROPHECY OF NEREUS. From the roar of the battle, its carnag:e, its dust, And Ajax pursuing, remorseless and Heet ! " yet in gore thy adulterous locks shall be roll'd, Though late be thy doom. Lo, the scourge of thy race, Laertiades ! Dost thou not see him ? Behold ! And Pylian Nestor ! — And see, on thy trace " Rushes Teucer of Salamis, dauntless and fell, And Sthenelus, skilful in combat, nor less In ruling the war-steed expert to excel. And close on thy track, too, shall Merion press. " Lo, Tydides, surpassing his father in might, Athirst for thy hfeblood, with furious cheer Is huntino; thee out throuo-h the thick of the fight, While before him thou fiy'st, like a tunorous deer, " Who, espying a wolf on the brow of the hill Flies far from the pasture, with heart-heaving pants ; Is it thus that thy leman shall see thee fulfil The promise of all thy presumptuous vaunts ? " The wrath of Achilles shall stay for a while The downfall of Ilion, and Phrygia's dames, — - Yet a few winters more, and her funeral pile In ashes shall fall 'midst Achaian flames ! " ODE XVI. TO TYNDARIS. 63 ODE XVI. TO TYNDARIS. O DAUGHTER, in beauty more exquisite still Than a mother, whose beauty we all must ad- mire, My scurrilous verses destroy, how you will. Deep drown them in ocean, or quench them in fire! DindjTnene herself, nor the Pythian, when He convulses his priests with the fury prophetic, Nor Bacchus, nor Corvbants, clashing: asain And again then* wild cymbals, such fervour phre- netic Can move as fell rage ; which no terrors can tame, Neither Norican glaive, nor the ocean bestrew'd With wreck and disaster, nor merciless flame, Nor the thunders of Jove in his venfrefullest mood. o 'Tis the cm^se of our birth ; for Prometheus, they say, Compell'd from all beasts some particular part To select for his work, to our primitive clay Imparted the lion's impetuous heart. Eage drew on Thyestes the vengeance of heaven, Through rage have been levell'd the loftiest halls And cities high-famous, and ploughshares been driven By insolent enemies over their walls. 64 ODE XVI. TO TYNDARIS. O, stifle the fiend ! In the pleasant spring time i Of my youth he enkindled my breast with his flame, And headlong I dash'd Into petulant rhyme, Which now in my manhood I think on with shame. But a kindlier mood hath my passion supplanted, And music more gentle shall flow from my lute, Would'st thou make me thy friend, — my vile libels recanted, — And smile with reciprocal love on my suit ! ODE XVII. TO TYNDARIS. 65 ODE XVII. TO TYNDAEIS. Mt own sweet Lucretillis ofttlnie can lure From liis native Lycaeus kind Faunus the fleet, To watch o'er my flocks, and to keep them secure From summer's fierce winds, and its rains, and its heat. ^ Then the mates of a lord of too pungent a fragrance Securely through brake and o'er precipice climb, And crop, as they wander in happiest vagrance, The arbutus green, and the sweet-scented thyme. Nor murderous wolf, nor green snake may assail My innocent kidlings, dear Tyndaris, when His pipings resound through Ustica's low vale. Till each moss'd rock in music makes answer again. The muse is still dear to the gods, and they shield Me their dutiful bard ; with a bounty di\dne They have bless'd me with all that the country can yield. Then come, and whatever I have shall be thine I Here screened from the dog-star, in valley retired, Shalt thou sing that pld song thou canst warble so well, Which tells how one passion Penelope fired. And charm'd fickle Circe herself by its spell. 66 ODE XVII. TO TYNDARIS. Here cups slialt tliou sip, 'neatli tlie broad-spreading shade, Of tlie innocent vintaoje of Lesbos at ease, No fumes of hot ire shall our banquet invade, Or mar that sweet festival under the trees. And fear not, lest Cyrus, that jealous young bear, On thy poor little self his rude fingers should set. Should pluck from thy bright locks the chaplet, and tear Thy dress, that ne'er harm'd him nor any one yet. ODE XVIII. TO VARUS. 67 ■ ODE XVIII. TO VARUS. Let the vine, dearest Varus, the vine "be the first Of all trees to be planted, of all to be nursed, On thy well-shelter'd acres, round Catilus' walls, "Where the sun on the green slopes of Tivoli falls ! For to hun who ne'er moistens his lip with the grape Life's every demand wears a terrible shape, And wine, and wine only has magic to scare Despondency's gloom or the torments of care. "Who 's he that, with wine's joyous fumes in his brain, Of the travails of war, or of want will complain, Nor rather, sire Bacchus, thy eulogies chant, Or thine, Venus, thine, ever beautiful, vaunt ? Yet, that none may abuse the good gift, and o'erpass The innocent mirth of a temperate glass, A warning is set in the wine-kindled strife, Where the Centaurs and Lapithte grappled for life ; In the madmen of Thrace, too, a warning is set, Who, lost in then- Bacchanal frenzy, forget The bounds that dissever the right from the wrong. And sweep on the tide of their passions along. Bright god of the vine, I never will share In orgies so vile and unholy, nor tear 68 ODE XVIII. TO VARUS. The clusters of various foliage away, That keep thy blest mysteries veil'd from the day. Then clash not the cymbals, and wind not the horn, Dread sounds, of whose maddening accents are born Blind Self-love, and Vanity lifting on high Its feather-brain'd head, as 't would strike at the sky, And Frankness, transparent as crystal, that shows In its babbling incontinence all that it knows. ODE XIX. TO GLYCEBA. 69 ODE XIX. TO GLYCERA. The rutliless mother of wild desires, And Theban Semele's fervent son, And wanton idlesse have kindled fires Within me, I di-eam'd I had long outrun. I am madden'dby Glycera's beauty's blaze, — The marble of Paros is pale beside it — By her pretty, provoking, and petulant ways, And face too dazzling for eye to 'bide it. Into me rushing, hath Venus quite Forsaken her Cyprus, nor lets me chant The Scyths and the Parthians, dauntless in flight, Nor aught that to Love is irrelevant. Hither, boys, turf of the freshest bring. Vervain, and incense, and wine unstinted ! The goddess less fiercely my heart shall sting. When the victim's gore hath her altar tinted. 70 ODE XX. TO MAECENAS. ODE XX. TO MJSCENAS. Our common Sabine wine shall be The only drink I '11 give to thee, In modest goblets too ; *T was stored in crock of Grecian delf, Dear knight Msecenas, by myself, That very day, when through The theatre thy plaudits rang, And sportive echo caught the clang, And answer'd from the banks Of thine own dear paternal stream, Whilst Vatican renew'd the theme Of homage and of thanks ! Old CiECuban, the very best, And juice in vats Calenian press'd You drink at home, I know : My cups no choice Falernian fills. Nor unto them do Formia's hills Impart a temper'd glow. ODE XXI. DIANA AND APOLLO. 71 ODE XXI. m HONOUR OF DIANA AND APOLLO. Ye tender virgins fair, To great Diana sing, Ye boys, to Cynthius of the unshorn hair, Your dulcet anthems bring, And let Latona mingle with your theme, That dearer is than all to Jove, Heaven's lord su- preme ! Her praises sing, ye maids, Who doth in streams delight, In whispering groves, and intertangled glades, On Algidus' cool height. Or Erj-manthus with its dusky pines, Or where with verdure bright the leafy Cragus shines. Ye boys, in numbers meet. Fair Tempe's praises chant, Delos, that was Apollo's natal seat, And loved peculiar haunt ; Sing, too, his quiver with its golden gleams. And l}Te, his brother's gift, that from his shoulder beams ! Moved by your prayers he will Banish distressful war. Famine, and pestilence, and then- trains of ill From our loved Rome afar, And from great Csesar, scattering their blight, The Persian's pride to quell, or Britain's chainless might. 72 ODE XXII. TO ARISTIU3 FUSCUS. ODE XXII. TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS. Fuscus, the man of life upright and pure Needeth nor javelin nor bow of Moor, Nor arrows tipp'd with venom deadly-sure, Loading his quiver ; Whether o'er Afi'ie's burning sands he rides, Or frosty Caucasus' bleak mountain-sides, Or wanders lonely, where Hydaspes glides, That storied river. For as I stray'd along the Sabine wood, Singing my Lalage in careless mood, Lo, all at once a wolf before me stood, Then turn'd and fled : Creature so huge did warlike Daunia ne'er Engender in her forests' wildest lair, Not Juba's land, parch'd nurse of lions, e'er Such monster bred. Place me, where no life-laden summer breeze Freshens the meads, or murmurs 'mongst the trees, Where clouds, and blighting tempests ever freeze From year to year ; Place me, where neighbouring sunbeams fiercely broil, A weary waste of scorch'd and homeless soil, To me my Lalage's sweet voice and smile Would still be dear ! ODE XXIII. TO CHLOE. 73 ODE XXIII. TO CHLOE. Nay, hear me, dearest Chloe, pray 1 You shun me like a timid fawn, That seeks its mother all the day By forest brake and upland lawn, Of every passing breeze afraid, And leaf that twitters in the glade. Let but the wind with sudden rush The whispers of the wood awake, Or lizard green disturb the hush. Quick-darting through the grassy brake, The foolish frightened thing will start, With trembling knees and beating heart. But I am neither lion fell, No tiger grim to work you woe ; I love you, sweet one, much too well, Then cling not to your mother so, But to a lover's tender arms Confide your ripe and rosy charms. 74 ODE XXIV. TO VIRGIL. ODE xxiy. TO VIRGIL. Why should we stem tte tears that needs must flow, Why blush, that they should freely flo-w and long ? To think of that dear head in death laid low ? Do thou inspire my melancholy song, Melpomene, in whom the Muses' sire Join'd with a liquid voice the master)^ of the hTe ! And hath the sleep, that knows no waking morn. Closed o'er Quinctilius. our Quinctihus dear ? Wliere shall be found the man of woman born That in desert might be esteem'd his peer, — So simply meek, and yet so sternly just, Of faith so pure, and all so absolute of trust ? He sank into his rest, bewept of many. And but the good and noble wept for him, But dearer cause thou, Virgil, hadst than any, AVith friendship's tears thy friendless eyes to dim ! Alas, alas ! Not to such woful end Didst thou unto the gods thy pray'rs unceasing send ! What though thou modulate the tuneful shell With defter skill than Ornheus of old Thrace, When deftliest he played, and with its spell Moved all the listening forest from its place, Yet never, never can thy art avail To bring life's glowing tide back to the phantom pale, ODE XXIV. TO VIRGIL. 75 Whom with his black inexorable wand Hermes, austere and pitiless as fate, Hath forced to join the dark and spectral band In their sad journey to the Stygian gate. 'T is hard, great heav'ns, how hard ! But to endure Alleviates the pang we may nor crush nor cure 1 76 ODE XXV. TO LYDIA. ODE XXV. TO LYDIA. Swains in numbers Break your slumbers, Saucy Lydia, now but seldom, Ay, tbough at your casement nightly, Tapping loudly, tapping lightly, By the dozen once ye held them. Ever turning, Ni^ht and mornino; Swung your door upon its hmges ; Now, from dawn till evening's closing, Lone and desolate reposing, Not a soul its rest infringes. C5" Serenaders, Sweet invaders, Scanter grow, and daily scanter. Singing, "Lydia, art thou sleeping ? Lonely watch thy love is keeping ! Wake, O wake, thou dear enchanter I " Lorn and faded, You, as they did. Woo, and in your turn are slighted ; Worn and torn by passion's fret, You, the pitiless coquette, Waste by fires yourseli' have lighted. ODE XXV. TO LYDIA. 77 Late relenting, Left lamenting, — " "Withered leaves strew wintry brooks ! Ivy garlands greenly darkling, MjTtles brown with dew-drops sparkling, Best beseem youth's glowing looks ! " 78 ODE XXVI. TO HIS MUSE. ODE XXVI. TO HIS MUSE. Beloved by and loving the Muses I fling all my sorrow and care To the wind, that wherever it chooses The troublesome freight it may bear. I care not — not I — not a stiver, Who in Scythia frozen and drear *!Neath the scourge of a tyrant may shiver, Or who keeps Tiridates in fear. O thou in pure springs who dellghtest, Twine flowers of the sunniest glow, Twine, gentle Pimplea, the brightest Of wreaths for my Lamia's brow. Without thee unskill'd are my numbers ; Then thou and thy sisterly choir Wake for him the rare music that slumbers Unknown in the Lesbian lyre I ODE XXYII. THE CAROUSAL. 79 ODE XXYII. THE CAROUSAL. Hold ! hold ! 'T is for Thraclan madmen to fight "With -wine-cups, that only were made for delight. *T is barbarous — brutal ! I beg of you all, Disgrace not our banquet with bloodshed and brawl ! The Median scimetar, why should it shine, Where the merry lamps sparkle and glance in the wine ? *Tis out of all rule ! Friends, your places resume, And let us have order once more in the room ! If I am to join you in pledging a beaker Of this stout Falernian, choicest of liquor, Megilla's fair brother must say, from what eyes Flew the shaft, sweetly fatal, that causes his sighs. How — dumb ! Then I drink not a drop. Never blush. Whoever the fair one may be, man ! Tush, tush ! She '11 do your taste credit, I 'm certain — for yours Was always select in its httle amours. Don't be frightened ! We're all upon honour, you know. So out with your tale ! Gracious powers ! Is it so ? Poor fellow ! your lot has gone sadly amiss, When you fell into such a Charybdis as this 1 so ODE XXVII. THE CAROUSAL. What witch, what magician, with drinks and with charms. What god can effect your release from her harms ? So fettered, scarce Pegasus' self, were he near you, From the fangs of this triple Chimaera might clear you I ODE XXYin. ARCHYTAS. 81 ODE XXVIII. ARCHYTAS. SAILOB. Thee, O Archytas, who hast scann'd The wonders of the earth by sea and land, The lack of some few grains Of scatter'd dust detains A shivering phantom here upon Matinum's strand. And it avails thee nothing, that thy soul, Death's sure-devoted prey, Soar'd to the regions of eternal day. Where wheeling spheres in silvery brightness roll. ARCHYTAS. What then ! E'en Pelops' sire, the guest Of gods, to Orcus sank, by death oppress'd, And old Tithonus, too, Though heavenly air he drew, And Minos stern, who shared the secrets of Jove's breast. There, too, Panthoides, once more immured, Roams, though his spirit's pride All save this fading flesh to death denied, By his old Trojan shield deceitfully assured. And he, even thou wilt grant me, was Not meanly versed in truth and nature's laws. But for us all doth stay One night, and death's dark way 4* P 82 ODE XXVin. ARCHYTAS. Must needs be trodden once, howe'er we pause. The Furies some to Mars' grim sport consign, The hungry waves devour The shipman, young and old drop hour by hour, No single head is spared by ruthless Proserpine. Me, too, the headlong gust. That dogs Orion, 'neath the billows thrust. But, prithee, seaman, shed On my unburied head And limbs with gentle hand some grains of drifting dust ! So may the storm that threats the western deep Turn all its wrath away, To smite the forests of Venusia, And thou thy course secure o'er the mild ocean keep 1 So may from every hand AVealth rain on thee by righteous Jove's command 1 And Neptune, who doth bear Tarentum in his care. Bring thy rich-laden argosy to land ! Deny me this, the common tribute due, And races to be born Of thy son's sons in after years forlorn, Though guiltless of thy crime, thy heartless scorn shall rue ! Nor shall thyself go fi'ee. For Fate's vicissitudes shall follow thee, Its laws, that slight for slight. And good for good requite ! Not unavenged my bootless pray'r shall be ; Nor victim ever expiate thy guilt. O, then, though speed thou must — It asks brief tarrying — thi-ice with kindly dust Bestrew my corpse, and then press onward as thou wHtl ODE XXIX. TO ICCIU8. 83 ODE XXIX. TO ICCIUS. So, Iccius, thou hast hankerings For swart Arabia's golden treasures, And for her still unconquer'd kings Art marshalling war's deadly measures, And forginor fetters meant to tame The insulting Mede that is our terror and our shame ? Say, what barbarian virgin fair Shall wait on thee, that slew her lover. What princely boy, with perfumed hair, Thy cup-bearer, shall round thee hover, School'd by his sire, with fatal craft To wing, all vainly now, the unerring Seric shaft ? Up mountains steep may glide the brooks, And Tiber to its sources roam. When thou canst change thy noble books CuU'd far and near, and learned home. For armour dipp'd in Ebro's wave. Thou who to all our hopes far nobler promise gave 1 8d ODE XXX. TO VENUS. ODE XXX. TO VENUS. O Venus, queen of Gnidos Paphos fair, Leave thy beloved Cyprus for a while, And shrine thee in that bower of beauty, where With incense large woos Glycera thy smile ! O come, and with thee bring thy glowing boy, The Graces all, with kirtles floating free, Youth, that without thee knows but little joy, The jocund Nymphs, and blithesome Mercury I ODE XXXI. THE POEX'S PRAYER. 8d ODE XXXI. THE POET'S PKAYER. What asks the poet, wlio adores Apollo's virgin shrine, What asks he, as he freely pours The consecrating wine ? Not the rich grain, that waves along Sardinia's fertile land, Nor the unnumber'd herds, that throng Calabria's sultry strand ; Not gold, nor ivory's snowy gleam, The spoil of far Cathay, Nor fields, which Liris, quiet stream, Gnaws silently away. Let fortune's favour'd sons the vine Of fair Campania hold ; The merchant quaff the rarest wine From cups of gleaming gold ; For to the gods the man is dear WTio scathelessly can brave, Three times or more in every year, The wild Atlantic wave. 86 ODE XXXI. THE poet's PRAYEB. Let olives, endive, mallows light Be all my fare ; and health Give thou, Latoe, so I might Enjoy my present wealth ! Give me but these, I ask no more, These, and a mind entire — And old age, not unhonour'd, nor Unsolaced by the lyre ! ODE XXXn. TO HIS LYRE. 87 ODE XXXII. TO mS LYRE. If e'er with thee, my IjTe, beneath the shade I 've sported, carolling some idle lay, Destined mayhap not all at once to fade, Aid me to sing a master-song to-day. In strains, the Lesbian's l}Te was foremost to essay ; Who, though in battle brave among the brave, Yet, even amidst the camp's tmnultuous roar, Or when his bark, long toss'd upon the wave. Lay anchor 'd safe upon the oozy shore. Did hymns to Bacchus and the golden Muses pour. And Yenus, and that source of many sighs. The Boy, who from her side is parted ne'er, And Lycus famed for his black lustrous eyes. And for the glory of his deep dark hair, Kans: in his full-toned verse along the charmed air. O, 'midst Apollo's glories chief of all. Thou shell, that ever art a welcome guest, In sovereign Jove's imperial banquet-hall. Thou, labour's balm, and bringer of sweet rest, Aid him that doth on thee with due devotion call ! 88 ODE XXXIII. TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS. ODE XXXIII. TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS. Nay, Albius, a truce to this sighing and grieving ! Is Glycera worth all this tempest of woe ? Why flatter her, lachi'ymose elegies weaving, Because she is false for a youthfuUer beau ? There's Lycoris, the maid with the smaU rounded forehead. For Cyrus is wasting by inches away, Whilst for Pholoe he, with a passion as torrid, Consumes, and to him she '11 have nothing to say. The she-goats, in fact, might be sooner expected ApuUa's wolves for their partners to take, Than a girl so divine to be ever connected With such an abandoned and pitiful rake. Such caprices hath Venus, who, rarely propitious, Delights in her fetters of iron to bind Those pairs whom she sees, with a pleasure malicious, Unmatched both in fortune, and figure, and mind. I myself, woo'd by one that was truly a jewel. In thraldom was held, which I cheerfully bore. By that common chit, Myrtale, though she was cruel As waves that indent the Calabrian shore. ODE XXXIV. THE POET'S CONFESSION. 89 ODE XXXIV. THE POET'S CONFESSION. Unto the gods my vows were scant And few, whilst I profess'd the cant Of philosopliic lore, But now I back my sails perforce, Fain to retrace the beaten course, 1 had contemned before. For Jove, who vsdth his forked levin Is wont to rend the louring heaven, Of late with hurtlings loud His thunder-pacing steeds did urge. And winded car alons; the verge Of skies without a cloud ; Whereat the huge earth reel'd with fear, The rivers, Styx, the portal drear Of Tsenarus abhorr'd, While distant Atlas caught the sound. And quiver'd to its farthest bound. The world's great god and lord Can chano-e the loftv to the low, The mighty ones of earth o'erthrow. Advancing the obscure ; Fate wrests the crown from lordly brow On his to plant it, who but now Was poorest of the poor. 90 ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE. ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE. O PLEASANT Antium's goddess queen, Whose presence hath avail Mortals to lift from mean estate, Or change triumphal hymns elate To notes of funeral wail ; Thee with heart-anxious prayer invokes The rustic at the plough, Thee, mistress of the ocean-wave, Whoe'er Carpathia's surges brave With frail Bithynian prow ; Thee Scythia's ever roving hordes, And Dacians rude revere, Cities, and tribes, Rome's dauntless band, Barbaric monarchs' mothers, and Empurpled tyrants fear ; Lest thou shouldst crush their piUar'd state Beneath thy whelming foot, Lest madding crowds with shrill alarms Pealing the cry, " To arms ! To arms 1 " Should seated thrones uproot. Before thee evermore doth Fate Stalk phantom-like, and bear In brazen hand huge nails dispread ; And wedges grim, and molten lead, And u'on clamps are there. ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE. 91 Thee Hope attend, and Truth rare-seen, In vestments snowv-dved, Nor quit thee, though in changed array Thou turn with angry frown away From halls of stately pride. But the unfaithful harlot herd Slink back. Howe'er they cling, Once to the lees the wine-vat drain, And shrinking from the yoke of pain. These summer friends take wins I o Our Caesar's way to Britain guard Earth's farthest boundary, And make our youthful hosts thy care. Who terror to the East shall bear. And the far Indian sea ! By brothers' blows, by brothers' blood. Our souls are gash'd and stain'd. Alas ! what horror have we fled ? What crime not wrought ? When hath the dread Of heav'n our youth restrain'd ? Where is the altar unprofaned By them ? O may we see Thy hand new-whet their blunted swords, To smite Arabia's tented hordes, And the Massagetae ! 92 ODE XXXVI. TO NDMIDA. ODE XXXVI. TO NUmDA. SmG, comrades, sing, let incense burn, • And blood of votive heifer flow Unto the gods, to whom we owe Our Numida's return ! Warm greetings many wait him here, Fi'om farthest Spain restored, but none From him return so warm hath won, As Lamia's, chiefly dear. His boyhood's friend, in school and play, Together manhood's gown they donn'd ; Then mark with white, all days beyond. This most auspicious day. Bid wine flow fast without control, And let the dancers' merry feet The ground in Saliar manner beat, And Bassus drain the bowl, Unbreathed, or own the mastering power Of Damalis ; and roses fail', And parsley's vivid green be there, And lilies of an hour ! On Damalis shall fond looks be bent, But sooner shall the ivy be Torn from its wedded oak, than she Be from her new love rent. ODE XXXVII. TO HIS COMPANIONS. 93 ODE XXXVII. TO mS COMPANIONS. NoTV, comrades, fill eacli goblet to the brim, Now, now with bounding footsteps strike the ground, With costliest ofierings every fane be crown'd, Laud we the gods with thousand- voiced hymn 1 It had been impious, till this glad horn- To bid our grandsires' Ctecuban to flow, While Egypt's queen was listed to o'erthrow Rome's empu-e, Rome itself, — home, temple, tower I 0, doting dream ! — She, with her eunuch train, Effeminate and vile, to conquer us ! Drunk with success, and madly venturous, Swift ruin quell'd the fever of her brain. Her fleet, save one poor bark, in flames and wrack, The frenzied fumes, by Egj^t's vintage bred, AVere turn'd to real terrors as she fled. Fled from our shores with Csesar on her track. As hawk pursues the dove, as o'er the plains Of snow- wrapt Scythia, like the driving wind. The huntsman tracks the hare, he swept behind, To fix that fair and fatal pest in chains. But her's no spirit was to perish meanly ; A woman, yet not womanishly weak. She ran her galley to no sheltering creek. Nor quail'd before the sword, but met it queenly. 94 ODE XXXVII. TO HIS COMPANIONS. So to her lonely palace-halls she came, With eye serene their desolation view'd, And with firm hand the angry aspics woo'd To dart their deadliest venom through her frame. Then with a prideful smile she sank ; for she Had robb'd Rome's galleys of their royal prize, Queen to the last, and ne'er in humbled guise To swell a triumph's haughty pageantry I ODE XXXVin. TO HIS CUP-BEARER. 95 ODE XXXVIII. . TO HIS CUP-BEAREK. Persia's pomp, my boy, I hate, No coronals of flowerets rare For me on bark of linden plait, Nor seek thou to discover where The lush rose lingers late. With unpretending mjTtle twine Naught else ! It fits your brows, Attending me, it graces mine, As I in happy ease carouse Beneath the thick-leaved vine. BOOK II. G ODE I. TO ASES'IUS POLLIO. 99 ODE I. TO ASDsIUS POLLIO. The civil broils that date Back from Metellus' luckless consulate, The causes of the strife, Its vices, ■with fresh seeds of turmoil rife, The turns of fcrtane's tide, The leagues of chiefs to direful ends allied, The arms of llomans wet With brothers' blood, not expiated yet. These are thy chosen theme. An enterprise that doth with peril teem, For everywhere thy tread On ashes falls, o'er lull'd volcanoes thinly spread I ]\Iute for some little time Must be the Muse of tragedy sublime Within our theatres ; anon, The task of chronicling om* story done, Thy noble bent pursue. And the Cecropian buskin don anew, PoUio, thou shield unstain'd Of woful souls, that are of guilt arraign'd, On whose persuasive tongue The senate oft in deep debate hath hung. Whose fame for laurels won In fields Dalmatian shall through farthest ages run I 100 ODE I. TO ASINIUS POLLIO. And now our ears you pierce With clarions shrill, and trumpets' threatenings fierce, Now flashing arms affright Horses and riders, scattering both in flight ; Now do I seem to hear The shoutincj of the mighty leaders near, And see them strike and thrust, BefTimed with not unhonourable dust ; And all earth own control. All, all save only Cato's unrelenting soul I Juno, and whosoe'er Amoncf the gods made Afric's sons their care, On that same soil, which they, Of vengeance foiled, had turned from in dismay, Unto Jugm-tha's shade His victor's grandsons as an offering paid. Where is the plain, that by Its mounds sepulchral doth not testify To many an impious fray. Where Latian blood made fat the yielding clay, And to fell havoc's sound Peal'd from the west to Media's farthest bound ? What bays, what rivers are By ills unvisited of woful war ? What oceans by the tide Of slaughter rolling red have not been dyed ? Where shall be found the shore, Is not incarnadined by Roman gore ? But, froward Muse, refrain, Affect not thou the elegiac strain ! With lighter touch essay In Dionasan cave with me some sprightlier lay 1 ODE II. TO CRISPUS SALLUSTIUS. 101 ODE U. TO CRISPUS SALLUSTIUS. Nor gold, nor silver, buried low Within the grudging earth, With lustre doth or beauty glow, 'T is light to these gives birth. This truth, Sallustius, thou dost make Thy law, thou foe to pelf, Unless from temperate use it take A sheen beyond itself; Such use as Proculeius taught ; Pre-eminently known For all a father's loving thought Unto his brothers shown, Through distant ages shall his name With note triumphant ring, Borne on from clime to clime by fame Un ever-soaring wmg. Subdue the lust for gold, and thine Will be an ampler reign. Than if thy kingdom should combine Far Lybia with Spain ; A grasping spirit to o'ercome lb better, than to seize The solely sovereign masterdom Of both the Carthages. 102 ODE II. TO CRISPUS SALLUSTIUS. Ihat scourge of man, the dropsy fell, By s^lfi-indulgciice^ourst, < ' Grows :worGe and vor^ie/hor can expel The still increasing thirst, Ujtiless the caui^, .wjiieh bred- the bale, Is'routed'from the^\eaib, And from the body's tissues pale The watery languor drains. Wisdom, who doth all Issues test By worth and worth alone, Scorns to pronounce Phraates blest, Replaced on Cyrus' throne ; From vulgar tongues, that swell the roar Of clamour differing wide. It teaches them to deal no more In phrases misapplied. For onlv he is kino; indeed, And may securely wear The diadem, and, nobler meed, The laurel garland fair, Wlio, even where piles of treasure lie, Preserves an even mind. And passing them without a sigh, Cares not to look behind. ODE III. TO DELLIUS. 103 ODE III. TO DELLITJS. Let not tlie frowns of fate Disquiet thee, my friend, Nor, when she smiles on thee, do thou, elate With vaunting thoughts, ascend Beyond the limits of becoming mirth, For, Delhus, thou must die, become a clod of earth I 'Whether thy days go down In gloom, and dull regrets. Or, shunning life's vain struggle for renown, Its fever and its frets, Stretch'd on the grass, with old Falernian wine. Thou giv'st the thoughtless hours a raptm^e all divine. Where the tall spreading pine. And white-leaved poplar grow, _ And mingling their broad boughs in leafy twine, A grateful shadow throw. Where runs the wimpling brook, its slumb'rous tune Still mumuring, as it runs, to the hush'd ear of noon ; There wine, there perfumes bring, Bring garlands of the rose, Fair aifd too short-lived daughter of the spring. While youth's bright current flows Within thy veins, — ere yet hath come the hour, ^ When the dread sisters three shall clutch thee in their power. 104 ODE III. TO DELLIUS. Thy woods, thy treasured pride, Thy mansion's pleasant seat, Thy lawns washed by the Tiber's yellow tide, Each favourite retreat. Thou must leave all, — all, and thine heir shall run In riot through the wealth thy years of toil have won. It recks not, whether thou Be opulent, and trace Thy birth from kings, or bear upon thy brow Stamp of a beggar's race ; Be what thou wilt, full surely must thou fall, For Orcus, ruthless king, swoops equally on all. Yes, all are hurrying fast To the one common bourne ; Sooner or later will the lot at last ' Drop from the fatal urn. Which sends thee hence in the grim Stygian bark, To dwell forevermore in cheerless realms and dark. ODE VI. TO XANTHIAS PHOCEUS. 105 ODE lY. TO XANTHIAS PHOCEUS. Nay, Xanthias, my friend, never blush, man — no, no ! Wliy should you not love your own maid, if you please V Briseis of old, with her bosom of snow, Brought the haughty Achilles himself to his knees. By his captive, Tecmessa, was Telamon's son, Stout Ajax, to willing captivity tamed ; Atrides, in triumph, was wholly undone, With love for the slave of his war-spear inflamed, In the hot hour of triumph, when quell'd by the spear Of Pehdes, in heaps the barbarians lay ; And Troy, with her Hector no longer to fear, To the war-wearied Greeks fell an easier prey. For aught that you know, now, fair Phyllis may be The shoot of some highly respectable stem ; Nay, she counts, I '11 be sworn, a few kings in her tree, And laments the lost acres once lorded by them. Never think that a creature so exquisite grew In the haunts where but vice and dishonour are known. Nor deem that a girl so unselfish, so true. Had a mother 't would shame thee to take for thine own. 5* 106 ODE IV. TO XANTHIAS PHOCEUS. I extol with free heart, and with fancy as free, Her sweet face, fine ancles, and tapering arms. How ! Jealous ? Nay, trust an old fellow like me, Who can feel, but not follow, where loveliness charms. ODE V. TO A FRIEND. 107 ODE V. TO A FEIEND. Have patience ! She 's plainly too tender, you see, The yoke on her delicate shoulders to bear, So young as she is, fit she never could be His task with the gentlest yoke-fellow to share, Or brook the assault of the ponderous bull, Rushing headlong the fire of his passion to cool. At present your heifer finds all her delight In wandering o'er the green meadows at will. In cooling her sides, when the sun is at height : In the iciest pools of some mountain-fed rill. Or 'mid the dank osier-beds bounding in play With the young calves, as sportive and skittish as they. For unripe grapes to long is mere folly ; soon, too. Many-tinted Autumnus with purple will dye Thy clusters that now wear so livid a hue ; And so after thee, soon, her glances will fly. For merciless Time to her count will assiijn The swift speeding years, as she takes them from thine. And then will thv Lalage long for a lord, Kor shrink from the secrets of conjugal joy ; By thee she will be, too, more fondly adored, Than Pholoe's self, or than Chloris the coy, Her beautiful shoulders resplendently white As the moon, when it silvers the ocean by nigh^ 108 ODE V. TO A FRIEiSTD. Or as Gnidian Gyges, -whom were you to place In the midst of a bevy of sunny-brow'd girls, So boyish, so girlish at once is his face, So silken the flow of his clustering curls, 'T would puzzle the skilfuUest judge to declare. If Gyges or they were more maidenly fair. ODE VI. TO SEPTIMIU8. 109 ODE VI. TO SEPTIMIUS. Septimius, that wouldst, I know, With me to distant Gades go, • And visit the Cantabrian fell, Whom all our triumphs cannot quell, And even the sands barbarian brave, Where ceaseless seethes the Moorish wave ; May Tibur, that delightful haunt, Rear'd by an Argive emigrant. The tranquil haven be, 1 pray. For my old age to wear away, O, may it be the final bourne To one with war and travel worn 1 But should the cruel Fates decree, That this, my friend, shall never be, Then to Galaesus, river sAveet To skin-clad flocks, will I retreat. And those rich meads, where sway of yore Laconian Phalanthus bore. In all the world no spot there is, That wears for me a smile like this. The honey of whose thymy fields May vie with what Hymettus yields. Where berries clustering every slope May with Venairum's greenest cope. 110 ODE VI. TO SEPTIMIUS. There Jove accords a lengthened spring, And winters wanting winter's stino-. And sunny Anion's broad incline Such mettle puts into the vine, Its clusters need not envy those, Which fiery Falernum grows. Thyself and me that spot invites, Those pleasant fields, those sunny heights ; And there, to life's last moments true. Wilt thou with some fond tears bedew — The last sad tribute love can lend — The ashes of thy poet friend. ODE VII. TO POMPEIUS VARUS. Ill ODE VII. TO POMPEIUS VARUS. Dear comrade, In the days when tbou and I With Brutus took the field, his perils bore, Who hath restored thee, freely as of yore, To thy home gods, and loved Italian sky, Pompey, ^vho wert the first my heart to share ; With whom full oft I 've sped the lingering day Quaffing bright wine, as in our tents Ave lay, With Syrian spikenard on our glistening hair ? With thee I shared Philippi's headlong flight, My shield behind me left, which was not well, When all that brave array was broke, and fell In the vile dust full many a towering wight. But me, poor trembler, swift Mercurius bore, Wrapp'd in a cloud, through all the hostile din, Whilst war's tumultuous eddies, closing in. Swept thee away into the strife once more. Then pay to Jove the feasts, that are his fee, And stretch at ease these war-worn limbs of thine Beneath my laurel's shade ; nor spare the wine Which I have treasured through long years for thee. 112 ODE VII. TO POMPEIUS VARUS. Pour till it touch the shiulng goblet's rim Care-drowniuG^ Massic : let rich ointments flow From amplest conchs ! No measure we shall know ! What ! shall we wreaths of oozy parsley trim, Or simple myrtle ? Whom will Venus send To rule our revel ? Wild my draughts shall be As Thracian Bacchanals', for 't is sweet to me, To lose my wits, when I regain my friend. ODE Vni. TO BAREXE. 113 ODE YIII. TO BARINE. If e'er, in vengeance for thy faithlessness, Heaven had but made thy charms one charm the less, Blacken'd one tooth, or tarnish'd one bright nail, Then I, Barine, might believe thy tale. But soon as thou hast laid all kinds of vows And plighted oaths on those perfidious brows, Thy beauty heightens into rarer dyes, And all our young men haunt thy steps with fever- ish eyes. It profits thee, fair mischief, thus to spurn The deep vows plighted by thy mother's um, By all the silent stars that gem the night. And by the gods, whom death may never blight. Venus herself doth smile to hear thee swear, Smile the sweet nymphs beneath their sunny hair ; And Cupid, unrelenting boy, doth smile. Pointing on gory stone his burning shafts the while. To thee our youth's best flower in homage kneels. New slaves bend daily at thy chariot-wheels ; And they, who oft have sworn to haunt no more Thy fatal home, still linger as before. Mothers all dread thee for their boys, and old Fond fathers fear thy havoc with their gold ; The bane art thou of everv new-made bride, Lest thy soft air should waft her husband from her side. H Ill ODE IX. TO VALGIU9. ODE IX. TO VALGIUS. Not always from the clouds are rains Descending on the oozy plains, Not always o'er the Caspian deep Do gusts of angry tempest sweep, Nor month on month, the long year through, Dear Valgius, valued friend and true, Is frost's benumbing mantle round The high lands of Armenia wound ; Not always groan Garganus' oaks Before the northwind's furious strokes, Nor is the ash-tree always seen Stript of its garniture of green ; Yet thou alway in strains forlorn Thy Mystes dead dost fondly mourn, Lamenting still at Hesper's rise, And when the rapid sun he flies. Remember, friend, that sage old man. Whose years were thrice our common span, Did not through all their lengthened tale His loved Antilochus bewail : Nor did his parents, lonely left, Of their still buddino; darlinfj refl, Nor Phrygian sisters evermore The slaughtered Troilus deplore. ODE IX. TO VALGIUS. 115 Forbear, then, longer to complain, Renounce this enervating strain, And rather let us, thou and I, ConiBine to sin"; in measures hifjh The trophies newly won by great Augustus Caesar for the state ; Kiphates' icy peak,-the proud Euphrates, added to the crowd Of nations, that confess our power, A humbler river from this hour. And the Gelonians forced to rein Their steeds within a bounded plain. 1 1 G ODE X. TO LICINIUS. ODE X. TO LICINIUS. If tliou wouldst live secure and free, Thou wilt not keep far out at sea, Licinius, evermore ; Kor, fearful of the gales that sweep The ocean wide, too closely creep AloniT the treacherous shore. Tlie man, who with a soul serene Doth cultivate the golden mean, Escapes alike from all The squalor of a sordid cot, And from the jealousies begot By wealth in lordly hall. The mighty pine is ever most By wild winds sway'd about and toss'd. With most disastrous crash Fall high-topp'd towers, and ever, where The mountain's summit points in air. Do bolted Hsrhtnino-s flash. "^A^len fortune frowns, a well-train'd mind Will hope for change ; when she is kind, A change no less will fear : If haggard winters o'er the land By Jove are spread, at his command In time they disappear. ODE X. TO LICLNIUS. 117 Though now they may, be sure of this, Things will not always go amiss ; Not always bends in ire Apollo his dread bow, but takes The lyre and from her trance awakes The Muse with touch of fire. Though sorrows strike, and comrades shrink, Yet never let your spirits sink, But to yourself be true ; So wisely, when yourself you find Scudding before too fair a wind, Take in a reef or two. 118 ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPENUS. ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS. What the warlike Cantabrian or Scyth may design, Dear Quintius Hirpinus, ne 'er stay to divine, AVitli the broad Adriatic 'twixt them and yourself, You surely may lay all jour fears on the shelf. And fret not y^ur soul with uneasy desires For the wants of a life, which but little requires ; Youth and beauty fade fast, and age, sapless and hoar. Tastes of love ai^d the sleep that comes lightly no more. Spring flowers bloom not always fresh, fragrant, and bright, Tlie moon beams not always full-orb'd on the night ; Then wherefore should you, who are mortal, outwear Your soul with a profitless burden of care ? Say, why should we not, flung at ease 'neath this pine. Or a plane-tree's broad umbrage, quaff* gayly our wine, While the odours of Syrian nard, and the rose Breathe sweet from locks tipp'd, and just tipp'd with Time's snows. ODE XI. TO QULNTIUS HIRPINUS. 119 T is Bacchus, great Bacchus, alone has the art To drive away cares, that are eatinoj the heart. What boy, then, shall best in the brook's deepest pool Our cups of the fiery Falernian cool ? And who from her home shall fair Lyde seduce, And brinjj to om' revel that charming recluse ? Bid her haste with her ivory lyre to the spot, Tying up her brown hair in a plain Spartan knot. 120 ODE Xli. TO M.tCENA5. ODE XII. TO M^CENAS. Bid me not sing to my nerveless string The wars of Numantia long and bloody, Nor Hannibal dread, nor the ocean's bed With the gore of our Punic foemen ruddy ; "Nor the Lapithae fierce, nor Hylaeus flush'd With wine, nor the earth-born brood Titanic, WTiom the death-dealing hand of Alcides crush'd, Though they smote the Satm-nian halls with panic. And thou, my Mascenas, shalt fitller tell The battles of Csesar in stateliest story, Tell of kings, who defied us with menaces fell, Led on through our streets in the triumph's glory. My muse to Licymnia alone replies. To her warbling voice, that divinely sways thee, To the gleam of her ilashin<>; and lustrous eves, And true heart that passion for passion repays thee. Ah, well doth the roundel beseem her charms, Sparkling her Avit, and, with loveliest vestals, Most worthy is she to enlace her arms ^ In the dances of Dian's hilaj'ious festals. ODE XII. TO M^CENAS. 121 Would you, friend, for Phrj-gia's hoarded gold, Or all that Achaemenes self possesses, Or e'en for what Araby's coffers hold. Barter one lock of her clustering tresses, While she bends down her throat to your burning kiss. Or, fondly cruel, the joy denies you, She 'd have you snatch, or at times the bliss Herself will snatch, and with joy surprise you ? 122 ODE XIII. TO THE TKEE BY WHOSE FALL ODE XIII. TO THE TREE BY WHOSE FALL HIS LIFE WAS ENDANGERED. Whate'er his station in the land, In evil hour he planted thee, And with a sacrilegious hand He nursed, and trained thee up to be The bane of his succeeding race, And of our hamlet the disgrace. He strangled, ay, and with a zest, His very father, and at dead Of night stole in upon his guest, And stabb'd him sleeping in his bed ; Brew'd Colchian poisons in his time, And practised every sort of crime. All this he must have done — or could — I'm sure, — the wretch, that stuck thee down, Thou miserable stump of wood, To topple on thy master's crown. Who ne'er designed thee any harm. Here on my own, my favourite farm. No mortal due provision makes 'Gainst ills which any hour may fall ; Tlie Carthaginian sailor quakes To think of a Levantine squall, But feels no terror for the fate, That elsewhere may his bark await. HIS LIFE WAS ENDANGERED. 123 Our soldiers dread the arrows sped By Parthians shooting as they tlee ; And in their turn the Parthians dread The cliains and keeps of Italy ; But death will tear, as now it tears, AVhole nations down at unawares. How nearly in her realms of gloom I dusky Proserpine had seen, Seen ^Eaeus dispensing doom, And the Elysian fields serene, Heard Sappho to her lute complain Of unrequited passion's pain ; Heard thee, too, O Alcsus, tell, Striking the while thy golden lyre, With fuller note and statelier swell. The sorrows and disasters dire Of warfare and the ocean deep, And those that far in exile weep. While shades round either singer throng. And the deserved tribute pay Of sacred silence to their song, Yet chiefly crowd to hear the lay Of battles old to story known. And haughty tyrants overthrown. What wonder they, their ears to feast, Should thickly throng, when by these lays Entranced, the hundred-headed beast Drops his black ears in sweet amaze, And even the snakes are charmed, as they Among the Furies' tresses play. Nay even Prometheus, and the sire Of Pelops, cheated of their pains, Forsfet awhile their doom of ire In listening to the wondi'ous strains ; Nor doth Orion longer care To hunt the lynx or lion there. 124 ODE XIV. TO POSTUUMUS. ODE XIV. TO POSTHUMUS. Ah, Posthumus, the years, the fleeting years Still onwards, onwards glide ; Kor mortal virtue may Time's wrinkling fingers stay, Nor Age's sure advance, nor Death's all-conquering stride. Hope not by daily hecatombs of bulls From Pluto to redeem Thy life, who holds thrice vast Geryon fetter'd fast. And Tityus, by the waves of yonder rueful stream. Sad stream, we all are doom'd one day to cross, Ay, all that live by bread, Whate'er our lot may be. Great lords of high deijree, Alike with peasant churls, who scantily are fed. In vain shall we war's bloody conflict shun, And the hoarse scudding gale Of Adriatic seas. Or fly the southern breeze, That through the Autumn hours wafts pestilence and bale. ODE XIV. TO POSTHUMUS. 125 For all must view Cocytus' pitchy tide Meandering slow, and see The accursed Danaids moil, And that dread stone recoil, Sad Sisyphus is doom'd to upheave eternally. Land, home, and winsome wife must all be left ; And cypresses abhorr'd, Alone of all the trees That now your fancy please. Shall shade the dust of him, who was their sometime lord. Then, too, your long imprison'd Caecuban A worthier heir shall drain, And with a lordlier wine, Than at the feasts divine Of pontiffs flows, your floor in wassailry shall stain. 126 ODE XV. 0^- THE PREVAILING LUXURY. ODE XY. ON THE PEEVAILING LUXURY. Soon regal piles each rood of land, Will from tlie farmer's ploughshare take, Soon ponds be seen on every hand More spacious than the Lucrine lake. Soon the unwedded plane displace The vine-wreathed ehn ; and violet bed And myrtle bush, and all the race Of scented shrubs their fragrance shed, Where fertile olive thickets made Their owner rich in days of old ; And laurels with thick-woven shade At bay the scorching sunbeams hold. It was not so when Romulus Our greatness fostered in its prime, Nor did our great forefathers thus. In unshorn Cato's simple time. Man's private fortunes then were low. The public income great ; in these Good times no long drawn portico Cau