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 VIII. To Mæcenas.
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A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||
255
Ode VIII. To Mæcenas.
In either Language skill'd, my Lord, 'tis thine
To know, in Greece and Rome, the Rites divine;
And well may You these flowery Wreaths admire,
The fragrant Incense and the sacred Fire,
Rais'd o'er the living Turf on this glad Day
To which the married World their Homage pay.
To know, in Greece and Rome, the Rites divine;
And well may You these flowery Wreaths admire,
The fragrant Incense and the sacred Fire,
Rais'd o'er the living Turf on this glad Day
To which the married World their Homage pay.
When on my Head a Tree devoted fell,
And almost crush'd me to the Shades of Hell,
Grateful I vow'd to him, who rules the Vine
A joyous Banquet, while beneath his Shrine
A snow-white Goat should bleed, and when the Year
Revolving bids this festal Morn appear,
We'll pierce a Cask with mellow Juice replete,
Mellow'd with Smoke, since Tullus rul'd the State.
And almost crush'd me to the Shades of Hell,
Grateful I vow'd to him, who rules the Vine
A joyous Banquet, while beneath his Shrine
A snow-white Goat should bleed, and when the Year
Revolving bids this festal Morn appear,
We'll pierce a Cask with mellow Juice replete,
Mellow'd with Smoke, since Tullus rul'd the State.
257
Come then, Mæcenas, and for Friendship's sake,
A Friend preserv'd, an hundred Bumpers take.
Come drink the watchful Tapers up to Day,
While Noise and Quarrels shall be far away.
No more let Rome your anxious Thoughts engage,
The Dacian falls beneath the Victor's Rage,
The Medes in civil Wars their Arms employ,
Inglorious Wars! each other to destroy;
Our ancient Foes, the haughty Sons of Spain,
At length indignant feel the Roman Chain;
With Bows unbent the hardy Scythians yield,
Resolv'd to quit the long-disputed Field.
No more the Public claims thy pious Fears,
Be not too anxious then with private Cares,
But seize the Gifts the present Moment brings,
Those fleeting Gifts, and leave severer Things.
A Friend preserv'd, an hundred Bumpers take.
Come drink the watchful Tapers up to Day,
While Noise and Quarrels shall be far away.
No more let Rome your anxious Thoughts engage,
The Dacian falls beneath the Victor's Rage,
The Medes in civil Wars their Arms employ,
Inglorious Wars! each other to destroy;
Our ancient Foes, the haughty Sons of Spain,
At length indignant feel the Roman Chain;
With Bows unbent the hardy Scythians yield,
Resolv'd to quit the long-disputed Field.
No more the Public claims thy pious Fears,
Be not too anxious then with private Cares,
But seize the Gifts the present Moment brings,
Those fleeting Gifts, and leave severer Things.
A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | ||