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 |
 | I. |
|
| 1. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| 2. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| 3. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| 4. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XIII. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| II. |
|
| 1. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
Sat. VI. To Mæcenas.
|
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| 2. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| VI. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
|
| 1. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| 2. |
| I. |
| II. |
 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
75
Sat. VI. To Mæcenas.
Though, since the Lydians fill'd the Tuscan Coasts,
No richer Blood than yours Etruria boasts;
Though your great Ancestors could Armies lead,
You don't, as many do, with Scorn upbraid
The Man of Birth unknown, or turn the Nose
On me, who from a Race of Slaves arose:
While you regard not, from what low Degree
A Man's descended, if his Mind be free;
Convinc'd, that long before th' ignoble Reign
And Power of Tullius, from a servile Strain
Full many rose for Virtue high renown'd,
By Worth ennobled, and with Honours crown'd:
While he, who boasts that ancient Race his own,
Which drove the haughty Tarquin from the Throne,
Is vile and worthless in the People's Eyes:
The People, who, you know, bestow the Prize
To very Scoundrels, and like Slaves to Fame
With foolish Reverence hail a well-born Name,
And with a stupid Admiration gaze,
When the long Race its Images displays.
No richer Blood than yours Etruria boasts;
Though your great Ancestors could Armies lead,
You don't, as many do, with Scorn upbraid
The Man of Birth unknown, or turn the Nose
On me, who from a Race of Slaves arose:
While you regard not, from what low Degree
A Man's descended, if his Mind be free;
Convinc'd, that long before th' ignoble Reign
And Power of Tullius, from a servile Strain
Full many rose for Virtue high renown'd,
By Worth ennobled, and with Honours crown'd:
While he, who boasts that ancient Race his own,
Which drove the haughty Tarquin from the Throne,
Is vile and worthless in the People's Eyes:
The People, who, you know, bestow the Prize
To very Scoundrels, and like Slaves to Fame
With foolish Reverence hail a well-born Name,
77
When the long Race its Images displays.
But how shall we, who differ far and wide
From the meer Vulgar, this great Point decide?
For grant, the Croud some high-birth'd Scoundrel chuse,
And to the low-born Man of Worth refuse
(Because low-born) the Honours of the State,
Shall we from thence their Vice or Virtue rate?
Were I expell'd the Senate-House with Scorn,
Justly, perhaps, because thus meanly born
I fondly wander'd from my native Sphere;
Yet shall I with less real Worth appear?
Chain'd to her beamy Car Fame drags along
The Mean, the Great: an undistinguish'd Throng.
From the meer Vulgar, this great Point decide?
For grant, the Croud some high-birth'd Scoundrel chuse,
And to the low-born Man of Worth refuse
(Because low-born) the Honours of the State,
Shall we from thence their Vice or Virtue rate?
Were I expell'd the Senate-House with Scorn,
Justly, perhaps, because thus meanly born
I fondly wander'd from my native Sphere;
Yet shall I with less real Worth appear?
Chain'd to her beamy Car Fame drags along
The Mean, the Great: an undistinguish'd Throng.
Poor Tillius, when compel'd in luckless Hour
To quit your purple Robe and Tribune's Power,
A larger Share of Envy was thy Fate,
Which had been lessen'd in a private State.
For in black Sandals when a Coxcomb's drest,
When floats the Robe impurple'd down his Breast,
Instant, “what Man is this,” he round him hears,
“And who his Father?” As when one appears
Sick of your Fever, Barrus, to desire
That all the World his Beauty should admire,
Curious the Ladies ask, “What Mien and Air,
“What Leg and Foot he has, what Teeth and Hair.”
So he, who promises to guard the State,
The Gods, the Temples and imperial Seat,
Makes every Mortal ask his Father's Name,
Or if his Mother was a slave-born Dame.
To quit your purple Robe and Tribune's Power,
A larger Share of Envy was thy Fate,
Which had been lessen'd in a private State.
For in black Sandals when a Coxcomb's drest,
When floats the Robe impurple'd down his Breast,
Instant, “what Man is this,” he round him hears,
“And who his Father?” As when one appears
Sick of your Fever, Barrus, to desire
That all the World his Beauty should admire,
Curious the Ladies ask, “What Mien and Air,
“What Leg and Foot he has, what Teeth and Hair.”
79
The Gods, the Temples and imperial Seat,
Makes every Mortal ask his Father's Name,
Or if his Mother was a slave-born Dame.
“And shall a Syrian Slave, like you, presume
“To hurl the freeborn Citizens of Rome
“From the Tarpeïan Rock's tremendous Height,
“Or to the Hangman Cadmus give their Fate?”
Tillius.
“To hurl the freeborn Citizens of Rome
“From the Tarpeïan Rock's tremendous Height,
“Or to the Hangman Cadmus give their Fate?”
My Collegue sits below me one Degree,
For Novius, like my Father, was made free.
Horace.
Shall you for this a true Messala seem,
And rise a Paulus in your own Esteem?
But when two hundred Waggons croud the Street,
And three long Funerals in Procession meet,
Beyond the Fifes and Horns his Voice he raises,
And sure such Strength of Lungs a wonderous Praise is.
And rise a Paulus in your own Esteem?
But when two hundred Waggons croud the Street,
And three long Funerals in Procession meet,
Beyond the Fifes and Horns his Voice he raises,
And sure such Strength of Lungs a wonderous Praise is.
As for myself, a Free-man's Son confest,
A Freeman's Son, the public Scorn and Jest,
That now with you I joy the social Hour,
That once a Roman Legion own'd my Power;
But though they envy'd my Command in War
Justly perhaps, yet sure 'tis different far
To gain your Friendship, where no servile Art,
Where only Men of Merit claim a Part.
Nor yet to Chance this Happiness I owe;
Friendship like your's she had not to bestow.
My best-lov'd Virgil first, then Varius told
Among my Friends what Character I hold:
When introduc'd, in few and faultring Words
(Such as an infant Modesty affords)
I did not tell you my Descent was great,
Or that I wander'd round my Country Seat
On a proud Steed in richer Pastures bred:
But what I really was, I frankly said.
A Freeman's Son, the public Scorn and Jest,
That now with you I joy the social Hour,
That once a Roman Legion own'd my Power;
But though they envy'd my Command in War
Justly perhaps, yet sure 'tis different far
To gain your Friendship, where no servile Art,
Where only Men of Merit claim a Part.
81
Friendship like your's she had not to bestow.
My best-lov'd Virgil first, then Varius told
Among my Friends what Character I hold:
When introduc'd, in few and faultring Words
(Such as an infant Modesty affords)
I did not tell you my Descent was great,
Or that I wander'd round my Country Seat
On a proud Steed in richer Pastures bred:
But what I really was, I frankly said.
Short was your Answer, in your usual Strain;
I take my Leave, nor wait on you again,
Till, nine Months past, engag'd and bid to hold
A Place among your nearer Friends enroll'd.
An Honour this, methinks, of nobler Kind,
That innocent of Heart and pure of Mind,
Though with no titled Birth, I gain'd his Love,
Whose Judgement can discern, whose Choice approve.
I take my Leave, nor wait on you again,
Till, nine Months past, engag'd and bid to hold
A Place among your nearer Friends enroll'd.
An Honour this, methinks, of nobler Kind,
That innocent of Heart and pure of Mind,
Though with no titled Birth, I gain'd his Love,
Whose Judgement can discern, whose Choice approve.
If some few, trivial Faults deform my Soul
(Like a fair Face when spotted with a Mole)
If none with Avarice justly brand my Fame,
With Sordidness, or Deeds too vile to name:
If pure and innocent: if dear (forgive
These little Praises) to my Friends I live,
My Father was the Cause, who, though maintain'd
By a lean Farm but poorly, yet disdain'd
The Country-Schoolmaster, to whose low Care
The mighty Captain sent his high-born Heir
With Satchel, Copy-book, and Pelf to pay
The wretched Teacher on th' appointed Day.
(Like a fair Face when spotted with a Mole)
If none with Avarice justly brand my Fame,
With Sordidness, or Deeds too vile to name:
If pure and innocent: if dear (forgive
These little Praises) to my Friends I live,
My Father was the Cause, who, though maintain'd
By a lean Farm but poorly, yet disdain'd
83
The mighty Captain sent his high-born Heir
With Satchel, Copy-book, and Pelf to pay
The wretched Teacher on th' appointed Day.
To Rome by this bold Father was I brought
To learn those Arts, which well-born Youth are taught,
So drest and so attended, you would swear
I was some wealthy Lord's expensive Heir;
Himself my Guardian, of unblemish'd Truth,
Among my Tutors would attend my Youth,
And thus preserv'd my Chastity of Mind
(That prime of Virtue in its highest Kind)
Not only pure from Guilt, but even the Shame,
That might with vile Suspicion hurt my Fame;
Nor fear'd to be reproach'd, although my Fate
Should fix my Fortune in some meaner State,
From which some trivial Perquisites arise,
Or make me, like himself, Collector of Excise.
To learn those Arts, which well-born Youth are taught,
So drest and so attended, you would swear
I was some wealthy Lord's expensive Heir;
Himself my Guardian, of unblemish'd Truth,
Among my Tutors would attend my Youth,
And thus preserv'd my Chastity of Mind
(That prime of Virtue in its highest Kind)
Not only pure from Guilt, but even the Shame,
That might with vile Suspicion hurt my Fame;
Nor fear'd to be reproach'd, although my Fate
Should fix my Fortune in some meaner State,
From which some trivial Perquisites arise,
Or make me, like himself, Collector of Excise.
For this my Heart far from complaining pays
A larger Debt of Gratitude and Praise;
Nor, while my Senses hold, shall I repent
Of such a Father, nor with Pride resent,
As many do, th' involuntary Disgrace,
Not to be born of an illustrious Race.
But not with theirs my Sentiments agree,
Or Language; for if Nature should decree,
That we from any stated Point might live
Our former Years, and to our Choice should give
The Sires, to whom we wish'd to be allied,
Let others chuse to gratify their Pride:
While I, contented with my own, resign
The titled Honours of an ancient Line.
This may be Madness in the People's Eyes,
But in your Judgement not, perhaps, unwise;
That I refuse to bear a Pomp of State,
Unus'd and much unequal to the Weight.
A larger Debt of Gratitude and Praise;
Nor, while my Senses hold, shall I repent
Of such a Father, nor with Pride resent,
As many do, th' involuntary Disgrace,
Not to be born of an illustrious Race.
But not with theirs my Sentiments agree,
Or Language; for if Nature should decree,
That we from any stated Point might live
Our former Years, and to our Choice should give
The Sires, to whom we wish'd to be allied,
Let others chuse to gratify their Pride:
85
The titled Honours of an ancient Line.
This may be Madness in the People's Eyes,
But in your Judgement not, perhaps, unwise;
That I refuse to bear a Pomp of State,
Unus'd and much unequal to the Weight.
Instant a larger Fortune must be made;
To purchase Votes my low Addresses paid;
Whether a Jaunt or Journey I propose
With me a Croud of new Companions goes,
While, anxious to compleat a Length of Train,
Domestics, Horses, Coaches I maintain.
But now as Chance or Pleasure is my Guide,
Upon my bob-tail'd Mule alone I ride.
Gall'd is his Crupper with my Wallet's Weight;
His Shoulder shews his Rider's aukward Seat.
To purchase Votes my low Addresses paid;
Whether a Jaunt or Journey I propose
With me a Croud of new Companions goes,
While, anxious to compleat a Length of Train,
Domestics, Horses, Coaches I maintain.
But now as Chance or Pleasure is my Guide,
Upon my bob-tail'd Mule alone I ride.
Gall'd is his Crupper with my Wallet's Weight;
His Shoulder shews his Rider's aukward Seat.
Yet no penurious Vileness e'er shall stain
My Name, as when, great Prætor, with your Train
Of five poor Slaves, you carry where you dine
Your travelling Kitchen and your Flask of Wine.
My Name, as when, great Prætor, with your Train
Of five poor Slaves, you carry where you dine
Your travelling Kitchen and your Flask of Wine.
Thus have I greater Blessings in my Power,
Than you, proud Senator, and thousands more.
Alone I wander, as by Fancy led,
I cheapen Herbs, or ask the Price of Bread;
I listen, while Diviners tell their Tale,
Then homeward hasten to my frugal Meal,
Herbs, Pulse, and Pancakes; each a separate Plate:
While three Domestics at my Supper wait.
A Bowl on a white Marble Table stands,
Two Goblets, and a Ewer to wash my Hands;
An hallow'd Cup of true Campanian Clay
My pure Libations to the Gods to pay.
I then retire to Rest, nor anxious fear
Before dread Marsyas early to appear,
Whose very Statue swears it cannot brook
The Meanness of a slave-born Judge's Look.
I sleep till ten; then take a Walk, or chuse
A Book, perhaps, or trifle with the Muse:
For chearful Exercise and manly Toil
Anoint my Body with the pliant Oil,
But not with such as Natta's, when he vamps
His filthy Limbs and robs the public Lamps.
Than you, proud Senator, and thousands more.
Alone I wander, as by Fancy led,
I cheapen Herbs, or ask the Price of Bread;
I listen, while Diviners tell their Tale,
Then homeward hasten to my frugal Meal,
Herbs, Pulse, and Pancakes; each a separate Plate:
While three Domestics at my Supper wait.
87
Two Goblets, and a Ewer to wash my Hands;
An hallow'd Cup of true Campanian Clay
My pure Libations to the Gods to pay.
I then retire to Rest, nor anxious fear
Before dread Marsyas early to appear,
Whose very Statue swears it cannot brook
The Meanness of a slave-born Judge's Look.
I sleep till ten; then take a Walk, or chuse
A Book, perhaps, or trifle with the Muse:
For chearful Exercise and manly Toil
Anoint my Body with the pliant Oil,
But not with such as Natta's, when he vamps
His filthy Limbs and robs the public Lamps.
But when the Sun pours down his fiercer Fire,
And bids me from the toilsome Sport retire,
I haste to bathe and decently regale
My craving Stomach with a frugal Meal;
Enough to nourish Nature for a Day,
Then trifle my Domestic Hours away.
And bids me from the toilsome Sport retire,
I haste to bathe and decently regale
My craving Stomach with a frugal Meal;
Enough to nourish Nature for a Day,
Then trifle my Domestic Hours away.
Such is the Life from bad Ambition free;
Such Comfort has the Man low-born like me;
With which I feel myself more truly blest,
Than if my Sires the Quæstor's Power possest.
Such Comfort has the Man low-born like me;
With which I feel myself more truly blest,
Than if my Sires the Quæstor's Power possest.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |