 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
38
HORACE, BOOK I. ODE I.
TO MECÆNAS.
Noble Mecænas! thee I claim,
Patron and guardian of my lays;
To thy revered, thy honoured name,
The poet first his homage pays.
Patron and guardian of my lays;
To thy revered, thy honoured name,
The poet first his homage pays.
There are who in the Olympic race,
Delight their chariot wheels to roll,
Whose brows the well-earned wreaths embrace,
Who pass with nicest skill the goal.
Delight their chariot wheels to roll,
Whose brows the well-earned wreaths embrace,
Who pass with nicest skill the goal.
One seeks the honours of the state,
Ambitious of the civic train;
Another asks not to be great,
Content to store his barns with grain.
Ambitious of the civic train;
Another asks not to be great,
Content to store his barns with grain.
39
A third delights the live-long day
To till his patrimonial fields,
And pass the rosy hours away,
Amid the charms that nature yields.
To till his patrimonial fields,
And pass the rosy hours away,
Amid the charms that nature yields.
Thrice happy in his rural seat,
No lure of wealth can e'er avail,
To tempt him from his loved retreat,
Across the hoary deep to sail.
No lure of wealth can e'er avail,
To tempt him from his loved retreat,
Across the hoary deep to sail.
The merchant when the tempests roar,
And angry winds embroil the main,
Sighs for some calm, some quiet shore,
And asks his native shades again.
And angry winds embroil the main,
Sighs for some calm, some quiet shore,
And asks his native shades again.
But to his native shades retired,
When hushed the fury of the wind,
By dread of penury inspired,
Refits the bark he left behind.
When hushed the fury of the wind,
By dread of penury inspired,
Refits the bark he left behind.
40
Some love to quaff the sparkling bowl,
With draughts of costly Massic crown'd,
Listless amid the shades to roll,
Where sacred waters murmur round.
With draughts of costly Massic crown'd,
Listless amid the shades to roll,
Where sacred waters murmur round.
The warrior hears well-pleased afar,
The martial clang, the clattering spears,
The trump's shrill summons to the war,
The war that wakes maternal fears.
The martial clang, the clattering spears,
The trump's shrill summons to the war,
The war that wakes maternal fears.
His dangerous care the hunter plies,
Nor heeds his tender wife's alarms,
Though cold and cheerless are the skies,
And home presents a thousand charms.
Nor heeds his tender wife's alarms,
Though cold and cheerless are the skies,
And home presents a thousand charms.
The poet's toil and wreath be mine,
And whilst my numbers tuneful flow,
Let ivy round my temples twine,
Nor Gods on high such bliss shall know.
And whilst my numbers tuneful flow,
Let ivy round my temples twine,
Nor Gods on high such bliss shall know.
41
Far from the common crowd I'll rove,
And seek the cool, the classic shade;
There wander pensive through the grove,
Or dance with wood-nymphs in the glade.
And seek the cool, the classic shade;
There wander pensive through the grove,
Or dance with wood-nymphs in the glade.
If Euterpe her pipe will lend,
No softer, sweeter I require;
While Polyhymnia's fingers blend,
The sweet tones of the Lesbian lyre.
No softer, sweeter I require;
While Polyhymnia's fingers blend,
The sweet tones of the Lesbian lyre.
And if my friend will place my name
Amidst the sacred sons of song,
I'll rise into immortal fame,
And walk the lofty stars among.
Amidst the sacred sons of song,
I'll rise into immortal fame,
And walk the lofty stars among.
| Poems by Three Friends | |