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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Ode X. To Licinius Murena.
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 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
Ode X. To Licinius Murena.
Licinius, would You live with Ease,
Tempt not too far the boundless Seas;
And when You hear the Tempest roar,
Press not too near th'unequal Shore.
Tempt not too far the boundless Seas;
And when You hear the Tempest roar,
Press not too near th'unequal Shore.
The Man, within the golden Mean,
Who can his boldest Wish contain,
Securely views the ruin'd Cell
Where sordid Want and Sorrow dwell,
And in himself serenely great
Declines an envied Room of State.
Who can his boldest Wish contain,
Securely views the ruin'd Cell
Where sordid Want and Sorrow dwell,
And in himself serenely great
Declines an envied Room of State.
When high in Air the Pine ascends
To every ruder Blast it bends:
The Palace from its airy Height
Falls tumbling down with heavier Weight,
And when from Heaven the Lightning flies,
It blasts the Hills, which proudest rise.
To every ruder Blast it bends:
The Palace from its airy Height
Falls tumbling down with heavier Weight,
And when from Heaven the Lightning flies,
It blasts the Hills, which proudest rise.
165
With Virtue's tranquil Wisdom blest,
Who e'er enjoys th'untroubled Breast,
With Hope the gloomy Hour can chear,
And temper Happiness with Fear.
If Jove the Winter's Horrours bring,
Great Jove restores the genial Spring;
Then let us not of Fate complain,
For soon shall change the gloomy Scene.
Apollo sometimes can inspire
The silent Muse, and wake the Lyre;
The deathful Bow not always plies,
Th'unerring Dart not always flies,
When Fortune, various Goddess, lowers,
Collect your Strength, exert your Powers,
But, when she breathes a kinder Gale,
Wisely contract your swelling Sail.
Who e'er enjoys th'untroubled Breast,
With Hope the gloomy Hour can chear,
And temper Happiness with Fear.
If Jove the Winter's Horrours bring,
Great Jove restores the genial Spring;
Then let us not of Fate complain,
For soon shall change the gloomy Scene.
Apollo sometimes can inspire
The silent Muse, and wake the Lyre;
The deathful Bow not always plies,
Th'unerring Dart not always flies,
When Fortune, various Goddess, lowers,
Collect your Strength, exert your Powers,
But, when she breathes a kinder Gale,
Wisely contract your swelling Sail.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |