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 |
I. |
1. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. | ODE XXIX. TO ICCIUS. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
2. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
3. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
II. |
3. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
4. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
III. |
1. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
2. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IV. |
1. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
2. |
I. |
II. |
The works of Horace, translated into verse | ||
111
ODE XXIX. TO ICCIUS.
It is a marvel almost up to a prodigy, that Iccius the philosopher, laying aside his studies, should take a turn to arms, through desire of riches.
To make th'Arabian wealth your own,
And 'gainst unconquer'd Saba war declare,
And for the barb'rous Mede his future chains prepare.
What virgin, when her love is slain,
Shall be a handmaid in thy train?
And, when thou din'st, what youth from out the court,
Shall stand with essenc'd hair, thy splendour to support?
An archer of paternal craft,
Skill'd to direct the Indian shaft!—
Who now denies but streams their ways may force
Back to the lofty hills, and Tiber change his course,
When you choice books so dearly bought,
On doctrines that Panætius taught,
And your Socratick stock for armour sell,
Whose taste for better things at first set out so well?
The works of Horace, translated into verse | ||