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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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16

To TYNDARIS. Ode XVII.

He invites her to Lucretilis, shewing how much Content it might afford her.

Swift PAN Lyceus oft doth change
For fair Lucretilis, there range;
And my Goats defend from thence,
Shun'd scorching Heat and storme offence.
Wives to the strong-scented Spouse may rove,
Through Woods secure, for Thyme their Love,
Sculking Crabtree Branch; nor fear
Green-spotted Snakes as harbour'd there.
Kids scorn that Woolvish Forrager,
Those Valleys, TINDARIS, how far,
Rocks of leaning Ustica,
Resound his Pipes melodious Play.
Gods me protect, kind Gods reward
My honest Heart; Muse too regard.
Dainties County-bred shall slow,
And plenteous heap on thee bestow.
Here in close Vale withdrawn, retir'd
From Dogstar's heat, to th' Harp (desir'd)
Thou Circe glassy-cheek'd mai'st sing,
Penelope, Love's rivalling.
Here gentle Cups ith' Shade shalt pour
Of Lesbian wine, that mirthful Hour,
No Mars nor Bacchus Fray molesting;
Nor fear, lest midst our friendly Feasting,
Thy churlish Guardian chance to know,
And rude-bred Arms on thee should throw
(Hard-match) that Flowry Wreath you wear,
And guiltless Garment (last) should tear.
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