A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace With the Original Text, and Critical Notes collected from his best Latin and French Commentators. By the Revd Mr. Philip Francis...The third edition |
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A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||
Ode III. To Melpomene.
He, on whose natal Hour the Queen
Of Verse hath smil'd, shall never grace
The Isthmian Gauntlet, or be seen
First in the fam'd Olympic Race:
Of Verse hath smil'd, shall never grace
The Isthmian Gauntlet, or be seen
First in the fam'd Olympic Race:
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He shall not after Toils of War,
And taming haughty Monarchs' Pride,
With laurel'd Brows conspicuous far,
To Jove's Tarpeian Temple ride:
And taming haughty Monarchs' Pride,
With laurel'd Brows conspicuous far,
To Jove's Tarpeian Temple ride:
But Him, the Streams which warbling flow
Rich Tibur's fertile Vales along,
And shady Groves, his Haunts, shall know
The Master of th'Æolian Song.
Rich Tibur's fertile Vales along,
And shady Groves, his Haunts, shall know
The Master of th'Æolian Song.
The Sons of Rome, majestic Rome!
Have plac'd Me in the Poet's Quire,
And Envy, now or dead or dumb,
Forbears to blame what They admire.
Have plac'd Me in the Poet's Quire,
And Envy, now or dead or dumb,
Forbears to blame what They admire.
Goddess of the sweet-sounding Lute,
Which thy harmonious Touch obeys,
Who canst the finny Race, though mute,
To Cygnet's dying Accents raise,
Which thy harmonious Touch obeys,
Who canst the finny Race, though mute,
To Cygnet's dying Accents raise,
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Thy Gift it is, that all, with Ease,
Me Prince of Roman Lyrics own;
That, while I live, my Numbers please,
If pleasing, is thy Gift alone.
Me Prince of Roman Lyrics own;
That, while I live, my Numbers please,
If pleasing, is thy Gift alone.
A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||