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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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30

To His COMPANIONS. Ode XXXVII.

Whom he exhorts to Mirth, for the Actiack Victory.

Now let us drink, now freely dance;
Now's special time, Comrades, t'advance
Banquets 'fore the Gods on Bed,
Like MARS his Priests, bespread.
Some crime Cæcubian Grape 't had been
To draw till now, whilst Ægypt-Queen
Sought through Romes sad funeral
For the Power Imperial.
With her diseased Heard and Train,
Foolish to hope what not in vain,
Drunk with her sweet Fortune made;
That fury though alli'd,
When scarce one Ship exempt from firing:
Whose frantick Soul, through Wine aspiring,
CÆSAR taught by humbling more
True Fears, with nimblest Oar.
Pursuing her flight from Italy,
As Hawk doth tender Dove (or he
That scours through plain Æmonian Plains
The Hare) to tie in Chains
That fatal Bug: who, being of Mind
To perish Gallantly, declin'd
Sword-bred Female Fears, nor sought
For sculking Corners ought,
But Pallas durst destroy'd behold
With front compos'd: nay Vipers cold,
Shrouding each as Bosom-guest,
Drank Poyson through the Brest:
More fierce through studi'd Fate, as though
Disdain'd in Liburn Ship to go,
And a Queen, no common head,
Proud Triumph to be led.
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