 | The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) |  |
ODE VIII. To Mæcenas
You, who excel in every Art
That Greek and Roman Tongues impart,
May ask, unmarry'd as I am,
Why to the Feast of Mars I came?
That Greek and Roman Tongues impart,
May ask, unmarry'd as I am,
Why to the Feast of Mars I came?
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Why I am drest in Flow'rs and Greens?
And what this Turf, this Incense means?
Know; to a God my Vows I pay;
A God preserv'd my Life this Day.
And what this Turf, this Incense means?
Know; to a God my Vows I pay;
A God preserv'd my Life this Day.
A Goat to Bacchus bleeds, for he
Sav'd me and held the falling Tree:
I'll tap a Hogshead of that Year,
When Tully fill'd the Consul's Chair.
Sav'd me and held the falling Tree:
I'll tap a Hogshead of that Year,
When Tully fill'd the Consul's Chair.
Come to the Feast, my Friend! and take
A hundred Glasses for my Sake;
Let Strife and Noise be far away;
Our Tapers shall renew the Day.
A hundred Glasses for my Sake;
Let Strife and Noise be far away;
Our Tapers shall renew the Day.
Leave all the Cares that vex your Mind;
And grand Affairs of State, behind:
What though the Dacian Army's fled,
Or civil Broils infest the Mede?
And grand Affairs of State, behind:
What though the Dacian Army's fled,
Or civil Broils infest the Mede?
What though the Spaniard wins the Field,
And makes the rough Cantabrian yield?
Or though at length the Scythians long
For Peace, and leave their Bows unstrung?
And makes the rough Cantabrian yield?
Or though at length the Scythians long
For Peace, and leave their Bows unstrung?
E'en let the State-Machine rowl on,
Mind not its Danger, nor your own:
Enjoy the present Hour, and clear
Your Brows from Frowns, your Soul from Fear.
Mind not its Danger, nor your own:
Enjoy the present Hour, and clear
Your Brows from Frowns, your Soul from Fear.
| The odes, epodes and Carmen Seculare of Horace (1719) | |