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The works of Horace, translated into verse

With a prose interpretation, for the help of students. And occasional notes. By Christopher Smart ... In four volumes
Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)

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VOLUME I.
  
[dedication]
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
 I. 
ODE I. TO MÆCENAS.
 II. 
ODE II. TO AUGUSTUS CÆSAR.
 III. 
ODE III.
 IV. 
ODE IV. TO SEXTIUS, A PERSON OF CONSULAR DIGNITY .
 V. 
ODE V. TO PYRRHA.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO AGRIPPA.
 VII. 
ODE VII. TO MUNATIUS PLANCUS, A PERSON OF CONSULAR DIGNITY
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. TO LYDIA.
 IX. 
ODE IX. TO THALIARCHUS.
 X. 
ODE X. TO MERCURY.
 XI. 
ODE XI. TO LEUCONOE.
 XII. 
ODE XII. TO AUGUSTUS.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. TO LYDIA.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. TO THE REPUBLIC OF ROME, ON THE RENEWAL OF THE CIVIL WAR.
 XV. 
ODE XV. THE PREDICTIONS OF NEREUS CONCERNING THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI. TO HIS MISTRESS.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII. TO TYNDARIS.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII. TO QUINTILIUS VARUS.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX. OF GLYCERA.
 XX. 
ODE XX. TO MÆCENAS.
 XXI. 
ODE XXI. TO APOLLO AND DIANA.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII. TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS.
 XXIII. 
ODE XXIII. TO CHLOE.
 XXIV. 
ODE XXIV. TO VIRGIL.
 XXV. 
ODE XXV. TO LYDIA.
 XXVI. 
ODE XXVI. TO THE MUSE, CONCERNING ÆLIUS LAMIA.
 XXVII. 
ODE XXVII. TO HIS BOTTLE-COMPANIONS.
 XXVIII. 
ODE XXVIII.
 XXIX. 
ODE XXIX. TO ICCIUS.
 XXX. 
ODE XXX. TO VENUS.
 XXXI. 
ODE XXXI. TO APOLLO.
 XXXII. 
ODE XXXII. TO HIS LYRE.
 XXXIII. 
ODE XXXIII. TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS.
 XXXIV. 
ODE XXXIV. TO HIMSELF.
 XXXV. 
ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE.
 XXXVI. 
ODE XXXVI. TO POMPONIUS NUMIDA.
 XXXVII. 
ODE XXXVII. TO HIS COMPANIONS.
 XXXVIII. 
ODE XXXVIII. TO HIS SERVANT.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
 I. 
ODE I. TO C. ASINIUS POLLIO.
 II. 
ODE II. TO C. SALLUSTIUS CRISPUS.
 III. 
ODE III. TO DELLIUS.
 IV. 
ODE IV. TO XANTHIUS PHOCEUS.
 V. 
ODE V. ON LALAGE.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO SEPTIMIUS.
 VII. 
ODE VII. TO POMPEIUS VARUS.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. TO JULIA BARINE.
 IX. 
ODE IX. TO VALGIUS.
 X. 
ODE X. TO LICINIUS.
 XI. 
ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS.
 XII. 
ODE XII. TO MÆCENAS.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. UPON THE TREE BY WHOSE SUDDEN FALL HE HAD LIKE TO HAVE BEEN CRUSHED.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. TO POSTHUMUS.
 XV. 
ODE XV. UPON THE LUXURY OF THE AGE HE LIVED IN.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI. TO GROSPHUS.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII. TO MÆCENAS, WHEN SICK.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX. ON BACCHUS.
 XX. 
ODE XX. TO MÆCENAS.
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THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
 I. 
ODE I.
 II. 
ODE II. TO HIS FRIRNDS.
 III. 
ODE III.
 IV. 
ODE IV.
 V. 
ODE V.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO THE ROMANS, ON THE CORRUPT MANNERS OF HIS AGE.
 VII. 
ODE VII. TO ASTERIE.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. TO MÆCENAS.
 IX. 
ODE IX. TO LYDIA.
 X. 
ODE X. UPON LYCE.
 XI. 
ODE XI. TO MERCURY.
 XII. 
ODE XII. TO NEOBULE.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. TO THE FOUNTAIN BLANDUSIA.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.
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VOLUME II.
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THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE [Cont'd.].
 XV. 
ODE XV. ON CHLORIS.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI. TO MÆCENAS.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII. TO ÆLIUS LAMIA.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII. TO FAUNUS.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX. TO TELEPHUS.
 XX. 
ODE XX. TO PYRRHUS.
 XXI. 
ODE XXI. TO HIS WINE-JAR.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII. TO DIANA.
 XXIII. 
ODE XXIII TO PHIDILE.
 XXIV. 
ODE XXIV. UPON THE RICH AND COVETOUS.
 XXV. 
ODE XXV. TO BACCHUS.
 XXVI. 
ODE XXVI. TO VENUS.
 XXVII. 
ODE XXVII. TO GALATEA, ON POINT TO GO ABROAD.
 XXVIII. 
ODE XXVIII. TO LYDE.
 XXIX. 
ODE XXIX. TO MÆCENAS.
 XXX. 
ODE XXX. TO THE MUSE MELPOMENE.
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THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
 I. 
ODE I. TO VENUS.
 II. 
ODE II. TO ANTONIUS JULUS, THE SON OF MARK ANTONY, OF THE TRIUMVIRATE.
 III. 
ODE III. TO MELPOMENE.
 IV. 
ODE IV. TO THE CITY OF ROME, CONCERNING THE GENIUS OF DRUSUS, AND HIS EDUCATION UNDER AUGUSTUS.
 V. 
ODE V. TO AUGUSTUS.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO APOLLO AND DIANA.
 VII. 
ODE VII. TO L. MANLIUS TORQUATUS.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. TO MARTIUS CENSORINUS.
 IX. 
ODE IX. TO LOLLIUS.
 X. 
ODE X. TO PHYLLIS.
 XI. 
ODE XI. TO VIRGIL.
 XII. 
ODE XII. UPON LYCE, AN ANTIQUATED COURTEZAN.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. TO AUGUSTUS.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. THE PRAISES OF AUGUSTUS.
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THE BOOK OF THE EPODES OF HORACE.
 I. 
EPODE I. TO MÆCENAS.
 II. 
EPODE II. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
 III. 
EPODE III. TO MÆCENAS.
 IV. 
EPODE IV. TO VOLTEIUS MENA.
 V. 
EPODE V. UPON CANIDIA THE SORCERESS.
 VI. 
EPODE VI. AGAINST CASSIUS SEVERUS.
 VII. 
EPODE VII. TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.
 VIII. 
EPODE VIII. TO MÆCENAS.
 IX. 
EPODE IX. AGAINST MÆVIUS THE POET.
 X. 
EPODE X. TO PETTIUS, A BON-COMPANION OF HIS.
 XI. 
EFODE XI. TO HIS HUMOUROUS FRIENDS, THAT THEY WOULD PASS THE WINTER MERRILY.
 XII. 
EPODE XII. TO MÆCENAS.
 XIII. 
EPODE XIII. TO HIS MISTRESS NEÆRA
 XIV. 
EPODE XIV. TO THE PEOPLE OF ROME.
 XV. 
EPODE XV. TO CANIDIA.
 XVI. 
EPODE XVI. CANIDIA'S ANSWER
  
THE SECULAR ODE
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[section]
  
ODE ON SAINT CECILIA'S DAY
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VOLUME III.
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE.
 I. 
SATIRE I.
 II. 
SATIRE II.
 III. 
SATIRE III.
 IV. 
SATIRE IV.
 V. 
SATIRE V.
 VI. 
SATIRE VI. To Mæcenas.
 VII. 
SATIRE VII.
 VIII. 
SATIRE VIII.
 IX. 
SATIRE IX.
 X. 
SATIRE X.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE.
 I. 
SATIRE I.
 II. 
SATIRE II.
 III. 
SATIRE III.
 IV. 
SATIRE IV.
 V. 
SATIRE V.
 VI. 
SATIRE VI.
 VII. 
SATIRE VII.
 VIII. 
SATIRE VIII.
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VOLUME IV.
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.
 I. 
EPISTLE I. To Mæcenas.
 II. 
EPISTLE II. To Lollius.
 III. 
EPISTLE III. To Julius Florus.
 IV. 
EPISTLE IV. To Albius Tibullus.
 V. 
EPISTLE V. To Torquatus.
 VI. 
EPISTLE VI. To Numicius.
 VII. 
EPISTLE VII. To Mæcenas.
 VIII. 
EPISTLE VIII. To Celsus Albinovanus.
 IX. 
EPISTLE IX. To Claudius Nero.
 X. 
EPISTLE X. To Fuscus Aristius.
 XI. 
EPISTLE XI. To Bullatius returned from Asia.
 XII. 
EPISTLE XII. To Iccius.
 XIII. 
EPISTLE XIII. To Vinnius Asella.
 XIV. 
EPISTLE XIV. To his Steward in the Country.
 XV. 
EPISTLE XV. To Vala.
 XVI. 
EPISTLE XVI. To Quintius.
 XVII. 
EPISTLE XVII. To Scæva.
 XVIII. 
EPISTLE XVIII. To Lollius.
 XIX. 
EPISTLE XIX. To Mæcenas.
 XX. 
EPISTLE XX. To his Book.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.
 I. 
EPISTLE I. To Augustus.
 II. 
EPISTLE II. To Julius Florus.
  
HORACE HIS ART OF POETRY.

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77

EPISTLE X. To Fuscus Aristius.

He extols a country life, with which he is captivated, to Fuscus, a lover of the town.

I, that the country best approve,
To Fuscus, recommend my love;
Who places in the town his bliss,
At wond'rous odds, alone in this,
We in all other things agree,
As loving-like, as twins can be.
With spirits of fraternal kind,
Each is, or pleas'd, or disinclin'd,
Each nods to each, in constant mood,
Like two old pidgeons of the wood—
You keep the nest—but Horace roves
To streams and moss-grown rocks and groves.
Do you ask why?—I live and reign,
Er'e since I treated with disdain
Those very scenes, which with such cries,
You're all extolling to the skies;
And like the slave, that flies the priest,
As sick of a perpetual feast;
I want the bread the country bakes
Much rather than your honey'd cakes.
Agreeably to nature's call
If we must live, then first of all,
79

You shou'd select a pleasant spot,
Where you may build your little cot;
And can you know a better place,
Than that which rural beauties grace?
Are warmer summers found elsewhere,
Or is there any milder air
To which a man may have recourse,
What time the Dog-star is in force,
Or when the Lion, in his turn,
Does by the Sun's intenseness burn?
Is there a place, where envious spleen,
Breaks less upon your sleep serene?
Say, do the Lybian stones excel
The grass in sightliness or smell;
Or does your water, while it strives
To burst the pipes e'er it arrives,
Run purer in the street, than those,
Whose rapid current murmuring flows?
Nay, wood is rais'd to please the eyes,
Where variegated pillars rise,
And for applause those buildings stand,
Which have a prospect of the land.
Expel dame nature, how you will,
She must herself recover still,
Breaking thro' fashion by degrees
And vain caprice with her decrees.
He that has not discerning sense,
To see how far in excellence,
The tinctures of Aquinum vie,
With purple of Sidonian die,
81

More loss can never undergo
Than those, who have not wit to know
The truth from that which is not so.
Whom wealth and power too joyful make
At a reverse of things will quake;
Of ought if you are over-fond,
On resignation you'll despond:
One in a cot, for bliss indeed,
Kings and their fav'rites may exceed:
The stag, more warlike than the steed,
Expell'd him from the common mead,
Till long time worsted in the end
He call'd on man to stand his friend,
And took the bit—but when he came
Stern conq'ror from the field of fame;
He cou'd not of the rider quit
His back, nor mouth from out the bit.
Thus he that fears he shall be poor,
Must loss of liberty endure,
More precious far than gold, must bear
A master, and such fetters wear
As shall eternally enthrall,
Because his income is too small.
A man's concerns that will not do,
May be resembled to a shoe,
Which made too large will soon subvert
Your feet, and if too small will hurt.
If you're contented with good cheer,
My Fuscus, then your wisdom's clear,
83

And me your old ally chastise,
Appearing busy in your eyes,
To gather more than shou'd suffice.
That money, which we scrape and crave,
To all's a tyrant, or a slave,
And yet 'tis easy to decide,
It shou'd be guided, and not guide.
These lines I wrote in idle vein,
Behind Vacuna's mould'ring fane,
Happy in every point of view,
Except the joy to be with you.
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