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 XVII. To Mæcenas.
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 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
Ode XVII. To Mæcenas.
Why will Mæcenas thus complain,
And kill me with th'unkindly Strain?
Nor can the Gods, nor I consent
That You, my Life's great Ornament,
Should sink untimely to the Tomb,
While I survive the fatal Doom.
And kill me with th'unkindly Strain?
Nor can the Gods, nor I consent
That You, my Life's great Ornament,
Should sink untimely to the Tomb,
While I survive the fatal Doom.
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Should You, alas! be snatch'd away,
Wherefore, ah! wherefore should I stay,
My Value lost, no longer whole,
And but possessing half my Soul?
One Day, believe the sacred Oath,
Shall lead the funeral Pomp of Both;
Chearful to Pluto's dark Abode,
With Thee I'll tread the dreary Road,
Nor fell Chimæra's Breath of Fire,
Nor hundred-handed Gyas dire,
Shall ever tear my Friend from Me;
So Justice and the Fates decree.
Wherefore, ah! wherefore should I stay,
My Value lost, no longer whole,
And but possessing half my Soul?
One Day, believe the sacred Oath,
Shall lead the funeral Pomp of Both;
Chearful to Pluto's dark Abode,
With Thee I'll tread the dreary Road,
Nor fell Chimæra's Breath of Fire,
Nor hundred-handed Gyas dire,
Shall ever tear my Friend from Me;
So Justice and the Fates decree.
Whether fair Libra's kinder Sign,
Or Scorpius with an Eye malign
Beheld my Birth (whose gloomy Power
Rules dreadful o'er the natal Hour)
Or Capricorn, with angry Rays
Who shines the Tyrant of the Seas,
With equal Beams our Stars unite,
And strangely shed their mingled Light.
Thee, Jove's bright Influence snatch'd away
From baleful Saturn's impious Ray,
And stop'd the rapid Wings of Fate,
When the full Theatre, elate,
With joyful Transports hail'd thy Name,
And thrice uprais'd the loud Acclaim.
Or Scorpius with an Eye malign
Beheld my Birth (whose gloomy Power
Rules dreadful o'er the natal Hour)
Or Capricorn, with angry Rays
Who shines the Tyrant of the Seas,
With equal Beams our Stars unite,
And strangely shed their mingled Light.
Thee, Jove's bright Influence snatch'd away
From baleful Saturn's impious Ray,
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When the full Theatre, elate,
With joyful Transports hail'd thy Name,
And thrice uprais'd the loud Acclaim.
A Tree, when falling on my Head,
Had surely crush'd Me to the Dead,
But Pan, the Poet's Guardian, broke,
With saving Hand, the destin'd Stroke.
For Thee, let the rich Victim's Blood
Pour forth to Jove its purple Flood;
For Thee, the votive Temple rise;
For Me an humble Lambkin dies.
Had surely crush'd Me to the Dead,
But Pan, the Poet's Guardian, broke,
With saving Hand, the destin'd Stroke.
For Thee, let the rich Victim's Blood
Pour forth to Jove its purple Flood;
For Thee, the votive Temple rise;
For Me an humble Lambkin dies.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |