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The Odes and Epodon of Horace, In Five Books

Translated into English by J. H. [i.e. John Harington]
(1627?-1700)

collapse section1. 
First Book.
 1. 
To MÆCENAS. Ode I.
 2. 
To AUGUSTUS. Ode 2.
 III. 
Ode III.
 IV. 
To L. SEXTIUS. Ode IV.
 5. 
To PYRRHA. Ode 5.
 VI. 
To AGRIPPA. Ode VI.
 7. 
To MUNATIUS PLANCUS. Ode 7.
 8. 
To LYDIA. Ode 8.
 IX. 
To THALIARCHUS. Ode IX.
 X. 
To MERCURY. Ode X.
 XI. 
To LEUCONOE. Ode XI.
 XII. 
To AUGUSTUS. Ode XII.
 XIII. 
To LYDIA. Ode XIII.
 XIV. 
To the Roman State, then renewing Civil Wars again. Ode. XIV.
 XV. 
NEREUS his Prophesie of the ruine of Troy. Ode XV.
 XVI. 
To his Love. Ode XVI.
 XVII. 
To TYNDARIS. Ode XVII.
 18. 
To VARIUS. Ode 18.
 XIX. 
To GLICERA. Ode XIX.
 XX. 
To MÆCENAS. Ode XX.
 XXI. 
Upon DIANA and APOLLO. Ode XXI.
 XXII. 
To ARISTIUS. Ode XXII.
 XXIII. 
To CHLOE. Ode XXIII.
 XXIV. 
To VIRGIL. Ode XXIV.
 XXV. 
To LYDIA. Ode XXV.
 XXVI. 
To his Muse, touching ÆLIUS LAMIUS. Ode XXVI.
 XXVII. 
To his Companions, That they should not quarrel in their Cups, barbarous fashion. Ode XXVII.
 XXVIII. 
Ode XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
To ACCIUS. Ode XXIX.
 XXX. 
To VENUS. Ode XXX.
 XXXI. 
To APOLLO. Ode XXXI.
 XXXII. 
To his Harp. Ode XXXII.
 XXXIII. 
To ALBIUS TIBULLUS. Ode XXXIII.
 XXXIV. 
To Himself. Ode XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
To FORTUNE. Ode XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
To POMPONIUS NUMIDAS. Ode XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
To His COMPANIONS. Ode XXXVII.
 XXXVIII. 
To His SERVANT. Ode XXXVIII.
expand sectionII. 
HORACE HIS SECOND BOOK OF ODES.
expand sectionIII. 
HORACE HIS THIRD BOOK OF ODES.
expand section 
HORACE HIS FOURTH BOOK OF ODES.
expand section 
HORACE HIS BOOK EPODON.

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To LEUCONOE. Ode XI.

He exhorts her, laying aside care of future things, to refresh herself; since life so short, uncertain.

Search not, LEUCONOE, what Destiny
Gods have reserv'd ('twere ill) for thee and me;
Shun th' Astrologick art, to lessen care;
Whether more Winters JOVE ordain thy share,
11

Or this thy Last, which tired Seas doth awe
By Rocks oppos'd; drink Wine, long Hopes withdraw
From Lifes short term; while speak'st th' Hour's gon with Sorrow:
Use th' instant Day, believing nought the Morrow.
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