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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
Francis, Philip (1708?-1773)
  
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VOL. I.
  
[dedication]
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THE ODES OF HORACE.
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES of HORACE.
 I. 
Ode I. To Mæcenas.
 II. 
Ode II. To Augustus.
 III. 
Ode III. To the Ship in which Virgil sailed to Athens.
 IV. 
Ode IV. To Sestius.
 V. 
Ode V. To Pyrrha.
 VI. 
Ode VI. To Agrippa.
 VII. 
Ode VII. To Munatius Plancus.
 VIII. 
Ode VIII. To Lydia.
 IX. 
Ode IX. To Thaliarchus.
 X. 
Ode X. Hymn to Mercury.
 XI. 
Ode XI. To Leuconoe.
 XII. 
Ode XII. Hymn to Jove.
 XIII. 
Ode XIII. To Lydia.
 XIV. 
Ode XIV. To the Republic.
 XV. 
Ode XV. The Prophecy of Nereus.
 XVI. 
Ode XVI. To Tyndaris.
 XVII. 
Ode XVII. To Tyndaris.
 XVIII. 
Ode XVIII. To Varus.
 XIX. 
Ode XIX. On Glycera.
 XX. 
Ode XX. To Mæcenas.
 XXII. 
Ode XXII. To Aristius Fuscus.
 XXIII. 
Ode XXIII. To Chloe.
 XXIV. 
Ode XXIV. To Virgil.
 XXV. 
Ode XXV. To Lydia.
 XXVI. 
Ode XXVI. To his Muse.
 XXVII. 
Ode XXVII. To his Companions.
 XXVIII. 
Ode XXVIII. A Mariner and the Ghost of Archytas.
 XXIX. 
Ode XXIX. To Iccius.
 XXX. 
Ode XXX. To Venus.
 XXXI. 
Ode XXXI. To Apollo.
 XXXII. 
Ode XXXII. To his Lyre.
 XXXIII. 
Ode XXXIII. To Albius Tibullus.
 XXXIV. 
Ode XXXIV.
 XXXV. 
Ode XXXV. To Fortune.
 XXXVI. 
Ode XXXVI.
 XXXVII. 
Ode XXXVII. To his Companions.
 XXXVIII. 
Ode XXXVIII. To his Slave.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES of HORACE.
 I. 
Ode I. To Asinius Pollio.
 II. 
Ode II. To Crispus Sallustius.
 III. 
Ode III. To Dellius.
 IV. 
Ode IV. To Xanthias Phoceus.
 V. 
Ode V.
 VI. 
Ode VI. To Septimius.
 VII. 
Ode VII. To Pompeius Varus.
 VIII. 
Ode VIII. To Barine.
 IX. 
Ode IX. To Valgius.
 X. 
Ode X. To Licinius Murena.
 XI. 
Ode XI. To Quintius Hirpinus.
 XII. 
Ode XII. To Mæcenas.
 XIII. 
Ode XIII.
 XIV. 
Ode XIV. To Postumus.
 XV. 
Ode XV.
 XVI. 
Ode XVI. To Pompeius Grosphus.
 XVII. 
Ode XVII. To Mæcenas.
 XVIII. 
Ode XVIII.
 XIX. 
Ode XIX. To Bacchus.
 XX. 
Ode XX. To Mæcenas.
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THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES of HORACE.
 I. 
Ode I.
 II. 
Ode II. To his Friends.
 III. 
Ode III.
 IV. 
Ode IV. To Calliope.
 V. 
Ode V. The Praises of Augustus.
 VI. 
Ode VI. To the Romans.
 VII. 
Ode VII. To Asterie.
 VIII. 
Ode VIII. To Mæcenas.
 IX. 
Ode IX. A Dialogue between Horace and Lydia.
 X. 
Ode X. To Lyce.
 XI. 
Ode XI. To Mercury.
 XII. 
Ode XII. To Neobule.
 XIII. 
Ode XIII. To the Fountain Bandusia.
 XIV. 
Ode XIV. On the Return of Augustus from Spain.
 XV. 
Ode XV. To Chloris.
 XVI. 
Ode XVI. To Mæcenas.
 XVII. 
Ode XVII. To Ælius Lamia.
 XVIII. 
Ode XVIII. To Faunus.
 XIX. 
Ode XIX. To Telephus.
 XX. 
Ode XX. To Pyrrhus.
 XXI. 
Ode XXI. To his Cask.
 XXII. 
Ode XXII. To Diana.
 XXIII. 
Ode XXIII. To Phidyle.
 XXIV. 
Ode XXIV. Against Misers.
 XXV. 
Ode XXV. To Bacchus.
 XXVI. 
Ode XXVI. To Venus.
 XXVII. 
Ode XXVII. To Galatea.
 XXVIII. 
Ode XXVIII. To Lyde.
 XXIX. 
Ode XXIX. To Mæcenas.
 XXX. 
Ode XXX. To Melpomene.
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THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODES of HORACE.
 I. 
Ode I. To Venus.
 II. 
Ode II. To Antonius Julus.
 III. 
Ode III. To Melpomene.
 IV. 
Ode IV. The Praises of Drusus.
 V. 
Ode V. To Augustus.
 VII. 
Ode VII. To Torquatus.
 VIII. 
Ode VIII. To Censorinus.
 IX. 
Ode IX. To Lollius.
 X. 
Ode X. To Ligurinus.
 XI. 
Ode XI. To Phyllis.
 XII. 
Ode XII. To Virgil.
 XIII. 
Ode XIII. To Lyce.
 XIV. 
Ode XIV. To Augustus.
 XV. 
Ode XV. To Augustus.
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THE BOOK OF THE EPODES of HORACE.
 I. 
Epode I. To Mæcenas.
 II. 
Epode II. The Praises of a Country-Life.
 III. 
Epode III. To Mæcenas.
 IV. 
Epode IV.
 V. 
Epode V: On the Witch Canidia.
 VI. 
Epode VI. To Cassius Severus.
 VII. 
Epode VII. To the Roman People.
 IX. 
Epode IX. To Mæcenas.
 X. 
Epode X. To Mævius.
 XI. 
Epode XI. To Pettius.
 XIII. 
Epode XIII. To a Friend.
 XV. 
Epode XV. To Neæra.
 XVI. 
Epode XVI. To the Romans.
 XVII. 
Epode XVII. To Canidia.
  
Canidia's Answer.
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THE SECULAR POEM.
  
The Poet to the People.
  
To the Chorus of Youths and Virgins.
 1. 
First Concert. HYMN TO APOLLO.
 2. 
Second Concert.
 3. 
Third Concert. TO APOLLO AND DIANA.
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VOL. II.
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THE SATIRES OF HORACE.
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SATIRES of HORACE.
 I. 
Sat. I. To Mæcenas.
 II. 
Sat. II. To Mæcenas.
 III. 
Sat. III.
 IV. 
Sat. IV.
 V. 
Sat. V.
 VI. 
Sat. VI. To Mæcenas.
 VII. 
Sat. VII.
 VIII. 
Sat. VIII.
 IX. 
Sat. IX.
 X. 
Sat. X.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE SATIRES of HORACE.
 I. 
Sat. I. Horace. Trebatius.
 II. 
Sat. II.
 III. 
Sat. III. Damasippus. Horace.
 VI. 
Sat. VI. Horace. Catius.
 V. 
Sat. V. Ulysses. Tiresias.
 VI. 
Sat. VI.
 VII. 
Sat. VII. Davus. Horace.
 VIII. 
Sat. VIII. Horace. Fundanius.
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THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE EPISTLES of HORACE.
 I. 
Epistle I. To Mæcenas.
 II. 
Epist. II. To Lollius.
 III. 
Epist. III. To Julius Florus.
 IV. 
Epist. IV. To Albius Tibullus.
 V. 
Epist. V. To Torquatus.
 VI. 
Epist. VI. To Numicius.
 VII. 
Epist. VII. To Mæcenas.
 VIII. 
Epist. VIII. To Celsus Albinovanus.
 IX. 
Epist. IX. To Tiberius Nero.
 X. 
Epist. X. To Aristius Fuscus.
 XI. 
Epist. XI. To Bullatius.
 XII. 
Epist. XII. To Iccius.
 XIII. 
Epist. XIII. To Vinius Asella.
 XIV. 
Epist. XIV. To His Steward in the Country.
 XV. 
Epist. XV. To Vala.
 XVI. 
Epist. XVI. To Quintius.
 XVII. 
Epist. XVII. To Scæva.
 XVIII. 
Epist. XVIII. To Lollius.
 XIX. 
Epist. XIX. To Mæcenas.
 XX. 
Epist. XX. To His Book.
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THE SECOND BOOK OF THE EPISTLES of HORACE.
 I. 
Epist. I. To Augustus.
 II. 
Epist. II. To Julius Florus.
  
HORACE's ART of POETRY.

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63

Sat. V.

[With Heliodorus, who by far possest]

With Heliodorus, who by far possest
More Learning, than the Tribe of Greeks profest,
Leaving imperial Rome I took my Way
To poor Aricia, where that Night I lay.
To Forum-Appii thence we steer, a Place
Stuff'd with rank Boatmen, and with Vintners base,
And laggard into two Days Journey broke
What were but one to less incumber'd Folk;
The Appian Road, however, yields most Pleasure
To those, who chuse to travel at their Leisure.
The Water here was of so foul a Stream
Against my Stomach I a War proclaim,
And wait, though not with much Good-humour wait,
While with keen Appetites my Comerades eat.
The Night o'er Earth now spread her dusky Shade,
And through the Heavens her starry Train display'd;
What Time, between the Slaves and Boatmen rise
Quarrels of clamorous Rout. The Boatman cries,
Step in, my Masters; when with open Throat,
“Enough, you Scoundrel; will you sink the Boat?”
Thus, while the Mule is harness'd and we pay
Our Freight, an Hour in Wrangling slips away.
The fenny Frogs with Croakings hoarse and deep,
And Gnats loud-buzzing, drive away our Sleep.
Drench'd in the Lees of Wine the watry Swain
And Passenger in loud alternate Strain
Chaunt forth the absent Fair, who warms his Breast,
'Till wearied Passenger retires to Rest.
65

Our clumsy Bargeman sends his Mule to graze,
And the tough Cable to a Rock belays,
Then snores supine; but when at rising Light
Our Boat stood still, up starts a hair-brain'd Wight;
With Sallow Cudgel breaks the Bargeman's Pate,
And bangs the Mule at a well-favour'd Rate.
Thence onward labouring with a World of Pain
At ten, Feronia, we thy Fountain gain;
There land and bathe; then after Dinner creep
Three tedious Miles, and climb the rocky Steep
Whence Anxur shines. Mæcenas was to meet
Cocceius here, to settle Things of Weight:
For they had oft in Embassy been join'd,
And reconcil'd the Masters of Mankind.
Here while I bath'd my Eyes with cooling Ointment
They both arriv'd according to Appointment;
Fonteius too, a Man of Worth approv'd,
Without a Rival by Antonius lov'd.
Laughing we leave an Entertainment rare,
The paultry Pomp of Fundi's foolish Mayor,
The Scrivener Luscus: now with Pride elate,
With Incense fum'd, and big with Robes of State.
67

From thence our wearied Troop at Formiæ rests,
Murena's Lodgers, and Fonteius' Guests.
Next rising Morn with double Joy we greet,
When we with Plotius, Varius, Virgil meet:
Pure Spirits these; the World no purer knows;
For none my Heart with such Affection glows.
How oft did we embrace! Our Joys how great!
For sure no Blessing in the Power of Fate
Can be compar'd, in Sanity of Mind,
To Friends of such companionable Kind.
Near the Campanian Bridge that Night we lay,
Where public Officers our Charges pay.
Early next Morn to Capua we came;
Mæcenas goes to Tennis; hurtful Game
To a weak Appetite, and tender Eyes,
So down to sleep with Virgil Horace lies.
Then by Cocceius we were nobly treated,
Whose House above the Caudian Tavern's seated.
And now, O Muse, in faithful Numbers tell
The memorable Squabble that befel,
When Messius and Sarmentus join'd in Fight,
And whence descended each illustrious Wight.
The high-born Messius—from vile Osci came,
His Mistress might her Slave Sarmentus claim.
69

From such fam'd Ancestry our Champions rise—
Hear me, thou horse-fac'd Rogue, Sarmentus cries;
We laugh; when Messius, throwing up his Head,
Accepts the Challenge. O, Sarmentus said,
If you can threaten now, what would you do,
Had not the Horn been rooted out that grew
Full in thy Front. A Gash, of foul Disgrace,
Had hurt the grisly Honours of his Face.
Then on his Country's infamous Diseases,
And his foul Visage, many a Joke he raises.
He bids him, like the one-ey'd Cyclops dance;
“He neither Mask, nor tragic Buskins wants.”
Messius reply'd in Virulence of Strain;
“Did you to Saturn consecrate your Chain?
“Though you were made a Scrivener since your Flight,
“Yet that shall never hurt your Lady's Right.
“But, prithee, wherefore did you run away?
“Methinks, a single Pound of Bread a day
“Might such a sleek thin-gutted Rogue content;”
And thus the jovial Length of Night we spent.
At our next Inn our Host was almost burn'd,
While some lean Thrushes at the Fire he turn'd.
71

Through his old Kitchen rolls the God of Fire,
And to the Roof the vagrant Flames aspire.
But Hunger all our Terrours overcame,
We fly to save our Meat and quench the Flame.
Appulia now my native Mountains shows,
Where the North-Wind with nipping Sharpness blows,
Nor could we well have climb'd the steepy Height
Did we not at a neighbouring Village bait,
Where from green Wood the smothering Flames arise,
And with a smoky Sorrow fill our Eyes.
In Coaches thence at a large Rate we came
Eight Leagues, and baited at a Town, whose Name
Cannot in Verse and Measures be exprest,
But may by Marks and Tokens well be guest.
Its Water, Nature's cheapest Element,
Is bought and sold; its Bread, most excellent;
Which wary Travellers provide with Care,
And on their Shoulders to Canusium bear,
Whose Bread is sandy, and its wealthiest Stream
Poor as the Town's of unpoetic Name.
Here Varius leaves us, and with Tears he goes:
With equal Tenderness our Sorrow flows.
Onward to Rubi wearily we toil'd,
The Journey long, the Road with Rain was spoil'd.
73

To Barium, fam'd for Fish, we reach'd next Day,
The Weather fairer, but much worse the Way.
Then water-curs'd Egnatia gave us Joke,
And Laughter great, to hear the moon-struck Folk
Assert, if Incense on their Altars lay,
Without the Help of Fire it melts away.
The Sons of Circumcision may receive
The wonderous Tale, which I shall ne'er believe;
For I have better learn'd, in blissful Ease
That the good Gods enjoy immortal Days,
Nor anxiously their native Skies forsake,
When Miracles the Laws of Nature break.
From thence our Travels to Brundusium bend,
Where our long Journey, and my Paper end.
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