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 XI. To Leuconoe.
Strive not, Leuconoë, to pry
Into the secret Will of Fate,
Nor impious Magic vainly try,
To know our Lives' uncertain Date.
Into the secret Will of Fate,
Nor impious Magic vainly try,
To know our Lives' uncertain Date.
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Whether th'indulgent Power divine
Hath many Seasons yet in store,
Or this the latest Winter thine,
Which breaks its Waves against the Shore,
Hath many Seasons yet in store,
Or this the latest Winter thine,
Which breaks its Waves against the Shore,
Thy Life with wiser Arts be crown'd,
Thy philter'd Wines abundant pour;
The lengthen'd Hope with Prudence bound
Proportion'd to the flying Hour:
Thy philter'd Wines abundant pour;
The lengthen'd Hope with Prudence bound
Proportion'd to the flying Hour:
Even while we talk in careless Ease,
Our envious Minutes wing their Flight;
Instant the fleeting Pleasure seize,
Nor trust to-morrow's doubtful Light.
Our envious Minutes wing their Flight;
Instant the fleeting Pleasure seize,
Nor trust to-morrow's doubtful Light.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |