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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A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||
Ode XVIII.
[No Walls with Ivory inlaid]
No Walls with Ivory inlaid
Adorn my House, no Colonade
Proudly supports a Citron Beam,
Nor rich with Gold my Cielings flame;
Nor have I, like an Heir unknown,
Seiz'd upon Attalus his Throne;
Nor Dames, to happier Fortunes bred,
Draw down for Me the purple Thread;
Yet with a firm and honest Heart,
Unknowing or of Fraud or Art,
A liberal Vein of Genius blest,
I'm by the Rich and Great carest.
My Patron's Gift, my Sabine Field
Shall all its rural Plenty yield,
And happy in that rural Store,
Of Heaven and Him I ask no more.
Adorn my House, no Colonade
Proudly supports a Citron Beam,
Nor rich with Gold my Cielings flame;
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Seiz'd upon Attalus his Throne;
Nor Dames, to happier Fortunes bred,
Draw down for Me the purple Thread;
Yet with a firm and honest Heart,
Unknowing or of Fraud or Art,
A liberal Vein of Genius blest,
I'm by the Rich and Great carest.
My Patron's Gift, my Sabine Field
Shall all its rural Plenty yield,
And happy in that rural Store,
Of Heaven and Him I ask no more.
Day presses on the Heels of Day,
And Moons increase to their Decay;
But You, with thoughtless Pride elate,
Unconscious of impending Fate,
Command the pillar'd Dome to rise,
When lo! thy Tomb forgotten lies;
And, though the Waves indignant roar,
Forward You urge the Baian Shore,
While Earth's too narrow Bounds in vain
Thy guilty Progress would restrain.
And Moons increase to their Decay;
But You, with thoughtless Pride elate,
Unconscious of impending Fate,
Command the pillar'd Dome to rise,
When lo! thy Tomb forgotten lies;
And, though the Waves indignant roar,
Forward You urge the Baian Shore,
While Earth's too narrow Bounds in vain
Thy guilty Progress would restrain.
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What can this impious Avarice stay?
Their sacred Landmarks torn away,
You plunge into your Neighbour's Grounds,
And overleap your Client's Bounds.
Helpless the Wife and Husband flee,
And in their Arms, expell'd by Thee
Their houshold Gods, ador'd in vain,
Their Infants too, a sordid Train.
Their sacred Landmarks torn away,
You plunge into your Neighbour's Grounds,
And overleap your Client's Bounds.
Helpless the Wife and Husband flee,
And in their Arms, expell'd by Thee
Their houshold Gods, ador'd in vain,
Their Infants too, a sordid Train.
Yet destin'd by unerring Fate,
Shall Hell's rapacious Courts await
This wealthy Lord—
Then whither tend thy wide Demaines?
For Earth impartial entertains
Her various Sons, and in her Breast
Monarchs and Beggars equal rest.
Shall Hell's rapacious Courts await
This wealthy Lord—
Then whither tend thy wide Demaines?
For Earth impartial entertains
Her various Sons, and in her Breast
Monarchs and Beggars equal rest.
Nor Gold could bribe, nor Art deceive
The gloomy Life-guard of the Grave,
Backward to tread the shadowy Way,
And waft Prometheus into Day.
Yet He, who Tantalus detains
With all his haughty Race in Chains,
Invok'd or not, the Wretch receives,
And from the Toils of Life relieves.
The gloomy Life-guard of the Grave,
Backward to tread the shadowy Way,
And waft Prometheus into Day.
Yet He, who Tantalus detains
With all his haughty Race in Chains,
Invok'd or not, the Wretch receives,
And from the Toils of Life relieves.
A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||