The Works of Horace In English Verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

The noblest Wreath tho' Homer claim,
Yet Pindar swells the Trump of Fame:
The grave Stesichorus still charms,
And still to Battle, bold Alcæus warms.

3

Simonides, with soothing Flow,
Trills forth his soft melodious Woe;
And blithe Anacreon's sportive Lay
Still lives, in spite of Time's destructive Sway.

4

Enchanting Sappho's Lyric Muse
In every Breast must Love infuse;
Love breathes on every tender String,
And still in melting Notes we hear her sing.

5

Not only sigh'd the Spartan Fair,
Charm'd by a Lover's graceful Hair,
Whom Splendor, Pomp, and rich Attire
Fondly allur'd to fan the fatal Fire.

6

Nor Teucer was the first, who knew
With Skill to bend the Cretan Yew.

468

Troy more than once has been destroy'd,
And vengeful Gods to raze her Walls employ'd.

7

Not great Idomeneus alone,
And Sthenelus deserve Renown:
Others before as boldly fought,
And Actions worthy of the Muses wrought.

8

Not Hector first, profuse of Life,
Bore glorious Wounds to guard his Wife,
And singly clear'd th'ensanguin'd Field,
His much-lov'd Boy and aged Sire to shield.

9

Before Atrides, brave in Fight
Reign'd many Kings; but endless Night
To all denies our Tears and Praise,
For never were they grac'd with sacred Lays.

10

If worthy Deeds no Glory gain,
To what avail your Cares and Pain?
Virtue conceal'd, unknown to Fame,
From Indolence scarce differs but in Name.

469

11

You shall not with the vulgar Throng
Pass silent, unadorn'd in Song:
Your various Toils shall crown my Page,
And baffle Envy and forgetful Age.

12

Let Fortune smile, or prove unkind,
You still maintain a steady Mind.
Attractive Gold, which all obey,
Your purer Honour would in vain betray.

13

Not only Consul for a Year,
But long as, faithful and sincere,
With noble Pride You Bribes despise,
And a fair Fame above all Treasure prize.

14

Style not those happy who abound
In Wealth, with Stores profusely crown'd:
To him alone that Name be given,
Who rightly knows to use the Gifts of Heaven;

15

Hard Poverty who dauntless bears,
But, more than Death, Dishonour fears,

470

And for his Friend's or Country's Good,
Would generously dare to spill his Blood!