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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Canidia's Answer.
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 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
481
Canidia's Answer.
I'll hear no more. Thy Prayers are vain.
Not Rocks, amid the wintry Main,
Less heed the shipwreck'd Sailor's Cries,
When Neptune bids the Tempest rise.
Shall you Cotyttia's Feasts deride,
Yet safely triumph in thy Pride?
Or impious, to the Glare of Day
The sacred Joys of Love betray?
Or fill the City with my Name,
And Pontiffe-like our Rites defame?
Did I with Wealth in vain enrich,
Of potent Spells each charming Witch,
Or mix the speedy Drugs in vain?
No—through a lingering Length of Pain,
Reluctant shalt Thou drag thy Days,
While every Hour new Pangs shall raise.
Not Rocks, amid the wintry Main,
Less heed the shipwreck'd Sailor's Cries,
When Neptune bids the Tempest rise.
Shall you Cotyttia's Feasts deride,
Yet safely triumph in thy Pride?
Or impious, to the Glare of Day
The sacred Joys of Love betray?
Or fill the City with my Name,
And Pontiffe-like our Rites defame?
Did I with Wealth in vain enrich,
Of potent Spells each charming Witch,
Or mix the speedy Drugs in vain?
No—through a lingering Length of Pain,
Reluctant shalt Thou drag thy Days,
While every Hour new Pangs shall raise.
Gazing on the delusive Feast,
Which charms his Eye, yet flies his Taste,
Perfidious Tantalus implores,
For Rest, for Rest, the vengeful Powers;
Prometheus, while the Vulture preys
Upon his Liver, longs for Ease;
And Sisiphus, with many a Groan,
Uprolls, with ceaseless Toil, his Stone,
To fix it on the top-most Hill,
In vain, for Jove's all-ruling Will
Forbids. When thus in black Despair
Down from some Castle, high in Air,
You seek an headlong Fate below,
Or try the Dagger's pointed Blow,
Or if the left-ear'd Knot you tye,
Yet Death your vain Attempts shall fly;
Then on your Shoulders will I ride,
And Earth shall shake beneath my Pride.
Which charms his Eye, yet flies his Taste,
Perfidious Tantalus implores,
For Rest, for Rest, the vengeful Powers;
483
Upon his Liver, longs for Ease;
And Sisiphus, with many a Groan,
Uprolls, with ceaseless Toil, his Stone,
To fix it on the top-most Hill,
In vain, for Jove's all-ruling Will
Forbids. When thus in black Despair
Down from some Castle, high in Air,
You seek an headlong Fate below,
Or try the Dagger's pointed Blow,
Or if the left-ear'd Knot you tye,
Yet Death your vain Attempts shall fly;
Then on your Shoulders will I ride,
And Earth shall shake beneath my Pride.
Could I with Life an Image warm
(Impertinent, you saw the Charm)
Or tear down Luna from her Skies,
Or bid the Dead, though burn'd, arise,
Or mix the Draught inspiring Love,
And shall my Art on Thee successless prove?
(Impertinent, you saw the Charm)
Or tear down Luna from her Skies,
Or bid the Dead, though burn'd, arise,
Or mix the Draught inspiring Love,
And shall my Art on Thee successless prove?
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |