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145

THE BOOK OF THE EPODES OF HORACE.

EPODE I. TO MÆCENAS.

Horace will accompany Mæcenas, going to the Actium expedition against Antony.

In a small ship, my friend,
You soon your course shall bend,
To face huge vessels tow'ry-stern'd;
Prepar'd to undergo
All perils of the foe,
For Cæsar, as thyself concern'd.
147

And what will come of me,
For life is sweet with thee,
But on the contrary severe:
What must I peace pursue,
As so enjoin'd by you,
Peace is not peace if you're not here!
Or shall I danger dare,
Altho' forbid my share
Of bold adventure in the van:
With that degree of heart,
As best beseems the part,
Of him that acts up to the man?
Yes, yes I will sustain
Each ill of land or main,
Fell Caucasus, or Alpine snows;
Far as remotest west,
With thee my manly breast,
I will to ev'ry foe oppose.
Perhaps you are to seek,
How timorous and weak,
I with my aid could help you out;
I answer, “less the fear,
“To persons that are near—
“Absence and distance heighten doubt?”
As when she leaves her young,
The serpent's forked tongue,
The bird will fear with more of dread;
Not that her presence there,
Could save her callow care,
Or stave destruction from their head.
149

With pleasure for your sake,
This voyage would Horace make,
Or any journey or campaign;
Without a view to bow,
More steers to pull my plough,
Upon a more extensive plain.
Or from Calabria's mead,
To turn my flock to feed,
Lucania's marsh when summer reigns;
Or spread my marble cot,
To that ambitious spot,
Which Circe's title still retains.
Your bounty is my store,
Enough for me, and more—
I will not for myself provide;
What, like a rake in taste,
I might profusely waste,
Or like penurious Chremes hide.
151

EPODE II. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

A happy man is he,
From business far and free,
Like mortals in the golden days;
With steers at his command,
To till his father's land,
Whom int'rest neither plagues nor sways.
Him no dread trump alarms,
To take the soldiers arms,
Nor need he fear the stormy main;
The noisy bar he shuns,
Nor to the levy runs
Of men, whose station makes them vain.
Wherefore he rather joins,
The marriageable vines,
To poplars tall in many a row;
Or prunes each fruitless shoot,
That springs to bear no fruit,
And bids the happier tendrils grow.
Or takes a distant gaze
Of lowing herds, that graze
As in the valley's mead they roam;
Or steer his tender flock,
Or in the cleanly crock,
Lays up press'd honey from the comb.
153

But when Autumnus comes,
With apples mild and plumbs,
That his delightful aspect crown;
What joy to pluck the pear,
He grafted with such care,
And grape of more than purple down.
With gifts select as these,
Priapus to appease,
Or Sylvan, that his bounds defends;
Now thrown beneath a bough
Of aged oak, and now
On matted grass his limbs extends.
Mean while the streams beside,
In their deep channel glide,
And birds within the leafy glade
Upon the branches sing,
With bubbling fountains spring,
The gentlest slumbers to persuade.
But when the troubled air
Is alter'd, to prepare
The seasons of the snows and wet;
With hounds on ev'ry hand,
The wild boar is trepann'd,
Into the interruping net.
Or with smooth-shaven stakes,
A slender toil he makes,
Where greedy thrushes are his prey;
Or tim'rous hare is ginn'd,
Or stranger cranes are thinn'd
The pleasant prizes of the day.
155

'Mong'st joys so sweet to thought,
Who does not set at nought,
All love's anxieties and cares;
But chiefly if a wife,
Of chaste and virtuous life,
Help in the family affairs.
Such as the Sabine dames,
Or tann'd by solar flames,
Such as the swift Apulian's spouse;
Soon as her lord returns,
Fatigu'd with what he earns,
On sacred dearth the fire to rouse.
And when the kine she's got,
Within the hurdled spot,
She milks their swelling udders dry;
And bringing this year's wine,
From hogshead sweet and fine,
A gratis feast she can supply.
Not oysters fetch'd from far,
Or turbot or the scar,
If a bad wind so well should blow;
To send them from the East,
To deck a Roman feast,
And on our shores their shoals bestow.
Not bustards, or the game
Of Asia would I claim,
In preference my taste to please;
As olives, nicely chose
From out the special rows
Of fittest and most healthy trees:
157

Or sorrel, goodly weed,
That loves the verdant mead,
Or mallow sov'reign cure esteem'd;
Or lamb, which on the day
Of Terminus we slay,
Or kid just from the wolf redeem'd.
How sweet, amidst this cheer,
To see the sheep appear,
Return'd and sated to the full;
Th'inverted plough to see,
Which oxen o'er the lea,
With languid neck at leisure pull.
To see the servants swarm,
As into ranks they form,
To keep the merry house alive;
The smiling gods to bless
For all this good success,
By which they and their master thrive.
This speech when Alphius made,
That, broker of such trade,
Commencing rustic without doubt;
For all his cash he drew
Then the first wind that blew,
He chang'd his mind and put it out.
159

EPODE III. TO MÆCENAS.

He expresses his aversion to garlic, which he eat at Mæcenas's house, and with which he was tortured in the bowels.

Has any young profligate been so perverse,
To slay his old grandsire in wrath;
Why let him eat garlick (not hemlock is worse)
What stomachs have clowns to their broth?
O what is this poison that's burning within?
Has venom of vipers infus'd
Deceiv'd me! or, as the reward of my sin,
Canidia the viands abus'd!
Medea, beyond all the Argonaut wights,
When she captain Jason bespoke;
She made him take this as an unction of nights,
Before the wild bulls cou'd be broke.
With this she prepar'd certain presents she made,
A desp'rate revenge in her view;
And having Creusa to take them betray'd,
Away on her dragon she flew.
161

Sure ne'er on the thirsty Apulia before,
Arose such a muggy offence;
Nor did the gift-shirt that poor Hercules wore,
Stick closer or burn more intense.
If ever such stuff you again shou'd affect,
With a trick and a jest in your head;
May your wife, hand to mouth, your fond kisses reject,
Or lie on the post of the bed.
163

EPODE IV. TO VOLTEIUS MENA.

A freed man of Pompey the Great.

Not wolves and lambs, by stronger fate
Than thou and I each other hate;
O hamper'd with th'Iberian cord!
And galling fetters of thy lord!
What tho' you strut puff'd up with pelf,
That cannot change thy servile self.
As on the sacred way you sweep,
With flowing robes full six ells deep;
Ingenuous scorn do you not trace,
In crowds that turn away their face!
“That wretch, corrected to the quick,
“Until the officer was sick;
“E'en he retains, in his own hand,—
“A thousand rood,—Falernan land;—
“And on the Appian road proceeds,
“Which he wears out with gallant steeds;
165

“And sits the first at any sight,
“In spite of Otho, as a knight.
“Wherefore so many beaks of brass,
“And heavy hulks do we amass;
“'Gainst pyrates, and the servile band,
“With such a fellow in command!”
167

EPODE V. UPON CANIDIA THE SORCERESS.

“But oh, ye pow'rs on high,
“Whichever from the sky,
“Rul'st human nature, land and sea;
“What can this horrid scene,
“These screams and aspects mean,
“All, all so sourly fix'd on me!
“Thee therefore I implore,
“If ever child you bore,
“Lucina present to your pray'r;
“By this vain purple vest,
“By Jove, who must detest,
“And cannot such proceedings spare!
“Why does your forehead low'r
“On me, with looks as sour
“As step-dames on their sons-in-law;
“Or like wild beasts, that feel
“The torment of the steel,
“Which from their sides they cannot draw?”
169

When thus, in trembling mood,
The boy had spoke,—he stood,
Of all his noble robes undrest;
A tender form and smooth
And sight enough to sooth
The fierceness of a Thracian breast.
Canidia, with her hair
Unkempt, as twisted there,
The little snakes infold her head;
Commands the bastard-fig,
That from the graves they dig,
And cypress sacred to the dead:
And eggs bedaub around,
From black toad's filthy wound,
And plumes from owl of nightly scream;
With drugs Iolchos sends,
And which Iberia vends,
Whose lands with plenteous poison teem:
And bone, that's snatch'd in spite
From bitch of greedy bite,
When hungry and about to dine;
For all these things, the dame
Prepares a Colchan flame,
The magic powder to combine.
But Sagana, with gown
Adjusted, up and down
Is sprinkling the avernal dew;
With hair that stands again,
Like urchins of the main,
Or running boar that hounds pursue.
171

Veia, without controul
Of conscience, digs a hole,
And groans at the severe employ
Of sharp laborious spade,
That, when the pit was made,
Therein confin'd the buried boy
Might famish at the look,
Of dainties that they cook,
And vary thrice a day the board;—
His body hid as far
In earth, as swimmers are
In streams, when to their chin they ford.
That his exhausted pith,
And liver dry therewith,
For a love-potion might suffice;
When settled on the food,
They baffle and elude,
The wasting pupils of his eyes.
That Folia too did come,
E'en from Ariminum,
With lust of masculine excess;
In towns both small and great,
As well as in the prate
Of idle Naples was the guess.
A witch, whose magic art,
Can make the stars to start,
At sounds Thessalian, from their spheres;
And lunar orb can force,
To quit her heav'nly course,
When her inchanting voice she hears.
173

Canidia then in dumps,
Biting, with her green stumps,
Her thumb, whose nail was never par'd;
What said she, or what not?
“O, conscious on the spot,
“Of all these deeds that we have dar'd.
“Dian and night serene,
“That rule the silent scene,
“What time our mystic blazes burn;—
“Now, now present your face,
“And on each hostile place,
“Your pow'r and your resentment turn.
“In gloomy glades of dread,
“While now wild beasts are sped,
“Indulging as they sweetly doze;
“Set all the dogs to bark,
“At yon old lech'rous spark,
“And to the gen'ral laugh expose.
“With nard, bedaub'd as rich
“As essences, the which
“These toiling hands of mine distill;—
“Hah! what does magic ail!
“Why do these charms avail!
“Less than the fell Medea's skill!
175

“With which empower'd to sate
“Her vengeance, wrath, and hate,
“Great Creon flying she defy'd;
“And with her poison'd cloak,
“Consum'd in fire and smoak,
“Creusa, Jason's other bride.
“Yet neither herb nor root,
“Of magical repute,
“Have scap'd me by their craggy site;—
“He sleeps in beds perfum'd,
“By harlots thither doom'd,
“Thoughtless of me to pass the night.
“Ah! ah! he walks at large,
“And has his free discharge,
“Fresh from a greater wheedler's arms;
“Varus, I will pursue,
“O wretch about to rue,
“Pursue thee with unheard of charms.
“Again, for me inclin'd,
“You shall return, nor find
“Your poor lost wits by Marsian spells;
“A greater, greater bane,
“Of philters will I strain,
“The more your nice disgust rebels.
177

“And sooner heav'n shall go,
“To place itself below
“The sea, with earth upon the stars;
“Then you shall not desire,
“My love with such a fire,
“As burns this pitch within the bars.”
At this the boy no more
Intreated, as before,
The impious hags with gentle tone;—
But doubtful, where to make
His preface, thus he spake
The curse Thyestes well might own.
“Your poys'nous drugs are strong,
“Confounding right and wrong,
“Yet nature cannot be destroy'd;
“Such curses I will urge,
“No sacrifice can purge,
“And no atonement render void.
“And when I shall expire,
“So destin'd by your ire,
“I'll be a fury in the dark;
“And with my crooked claws,
“I'll come to maim your jaws,
“(Such pow'r have ghosts) with many a mark.
“And lying on your breast,
“I will deprive of rest
179

“Your eyes, by filling them with fear;
“And crowds, from town to town,
“Shall join to knock you down,
“Obscene old witches, far and near.
“Your bodies after all,
“Depriv'd of funeral,
“Wolves and Esquilian birds shall share;
“Your horrors and your cries,
“My parents ears and eyes,
“Shall glut, surviving me their heir.”
 

The prælexta, which young noblemen wore, was ornamented with purple; for the lad here introduced is supposed to be of rank, in order to aggravate Canidia's barbarity.

181

EPODE VI. AGAINST CASSIUS SEVERUS.

An abusive and petulant Poet.

Why innocent visitors do you molest,
'Gainst wolves, a base mongrel, thou cur;
Come here, if you chuse it, and snarl out your best,
For the kick and the bite I confer.
For like a staunch mastiff, or guard of the sheep,
A Spartan in colour and breed;
Thro' the snows, ears erect, be they never so deep,
I will urge all wild beasts that precede.
You, when with fierce barking you fill'd all the field,
Kept smelling at bones on your plate;—
Have a care, have a care, of the weapon I wield,
For villains exasp'rate my hate.
183

Like him false Lycambes despis'd for a son,
Or he that made Bupalus die;
Shall I, when such mischief's by virulence done,
Do nought but be boyish and cry?
185

EPODE VII. TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.

His detestation of the civil war carried on the one side by Brutus and Cassius, and on the other by Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus.

Where are you rushing on with impious guilt,
And hands upon the sheathed swords again;
Is there too little blood profusely spilt,
Of Romans on the land and in the main?
And this—not that our army to the ground,
With flames invidious Carthage should deface;
Or that unconquer'd Britons, tied and bound,
Shou'd up the sacred hill the triumph grace.
But that our Rome, to please the Parthian foe,
By her own prowess shou'd be undermin'd;
A folly neither wolves nor lions know,
Save against beasts of a discordant kind.
187

Madness or mettle, or does vice prevail!
Give instant answer—what can be the cause!
They're silent, and their cheeks are deadly pale,
As with intense stupidity they pause.
Know then fatality severe, and dread
With conscious guilt of fratricide's our own;
E're since the blood of harmless Rhemus shed,
Was left for his descendants to atone.
189

EPODE VIII. TO MÆCENAS.

He has a foretaste of that pleasure, which he shall perceive from Augustus his victory over Antony and Cleopatra.

What day, my blest knight, in your lofty saloon,
This Cæcuban hoarded for thee;
(At Cæsar's great conquest my spirits in tune)
Shall Jove for our banquet decree?
While Doric and Phrygian concertos are play'd,
Upon the shrill pipes and the lyre;
As lately when Neptune's sham-son was dismay'd,
And fled with his ships all a-fire.
But first he had threaten'd all Rome to subdue,
Till to the same yoke they shou'd bend
He took from the slaves to their masters untrue,
Professing himself for their friend.
Yet still cou'd a Roman, whom frail beauty charms,
(The fact may our children gainsay)
Most slavishly bear palisadoes and arms,
And e'en haggar'd eunuchs obey!
191

Amidst all the standards (O shame to be told)
That in gallant order arose;
The sun a rich canopy blush'd to behold,
With squabs for luxurious repose.
The Gaul upon this, with two thousand fine horse,
For Cæsar with shoutings decreed;
And their navy's left wing, struck with dread and remorse,
To port made the best of their speed.
O triumph! you loiter the heifer to bring,
You loiter to bring the gilt car;
O triumph! you brought us Jugurtha the king,
But Cæsar's inferior by far.
Nor, from that long African war, did you crown
A chief of more excellent name;
Tho' Scipio has got him eternal renown,
By Carthage the tomb of his fame.
Our enemies, vanquish'd by land and by sea,
Have strip'd their red coats from their back;
And with the most dismal event to agree,
Have cloath'd all their soldiers in black.
And Antony now is a making for Crete,
(An hundred fair cities she boasts)
Or is on the Syrtes wind-bound with his fleet,
Or on some strange region he coasts.
193

Bring, boy, larger glasses, with Chian replete,
Or fill'd with right Lesbian wine;
Or Cæcuban, which may this sickness defeat,
Give always good measure for mine!
For anxious concern for great Cæsar's affairs,
Which each honest citizen racks;
'Tis better with wine (as your Horace declares)
With the very best wine to relax.
 

Young Pompey, upon the strength of his father's naval atchievements, called himself the son of Neptune.

195

EPODE IX. AGAINST MÆVIUS THE POET.

Horace wishes he may be ship-wrecked.

The ship ill-omen'd puts to sea,
With fœtid Mævius 'mongst the crew;
Good blust'ring south remember me,
And with rough waves her course pursue.
And fore and aft her sides assail,
Let east, the wind of black despair
With floods turn'd upside down prevail,
And oars and ropes in pieces tear.
Let north too rage, from mountains high,
As when the trembling oaks are rent;
Nor friendly star a ray supply,
Upon Orion's dread descent.
No gentler breeze their fleet convoy,
Than what the conq'ring Grecians knew;
When Pallas turn'd her rage from Troy
On Ajax, as the ruffian's due.
197

O how your sailors toil and curse,
What woeful paleness in your cheeks;
What pray'rs to Jupiter averse,
And what extreme unmanly shrieks.
When roaring to the dark south-west,
The shallows of th'Ionian bay
Shall leave your mastless deck distress'd,
And break your very keel away.
But if, upon the winding shore,
Your foulness shall the gulls delight;
With kid and lamb I will adore
The tempests, as denouncing right.
199

EPODE X. TO PETTIUS, A BON-COMPANION OF HIS.

O Pettius, I delight no more
To scribble verses, as of yore,
With am'rous pains enslav'd;
This third December now has stole
The leaves from Sylvan, since my soul
For fair Inachia rav'd.
Ah me! for I'm asham'd of that,
How much I've fill'd the common chat,
And for their feasts I grieve;
Where listlessness and silence spoke
The lover, and such sighs I broke,
As I cou'd hardly heave.
And oft to you I wou'd complain,
How the poor man's ingenious vein,
With fortune had no share;
Soon as the frontless God of wine,
Had wrought upon this breast of mine,
To lay its secrets bare.
201

But if a manly scorn prevail,
To give these love-tricks to the gale,
Which fan, not sooth the flame;
Then that false shame shall be a jest,
Of coming off the second best,
With men of greater name.
When thus pot-valiant and austere,
This speech I cited in your ear—
Advis'd to clear the coast;
I stagger'd homewards, to attack
My fair-one's door, and broke my back
And ribs against the post.
203

EFODE XI. TO HIS HUMOUROUS FRIENDS, THAT THEY WOULD PASS THE WINTER MERRILY.

The skies with horrid tempests frown,
And even in snow and rain come down,
The woods and rough profound
Roar with the north wind, fresh from Thrace,
My friends let us the hint embrace,
And while our knees are sound
Let us in seemly sort preclude
The thought of sour solicitude,—
Bring wine of Manlian date;—
All other matters we forbear,
For heav'n, perhaps, these hours of care,
With joy shall reinstate.
Now is the pleasure and the time,
With odours of the Persian clime,
Our bodies to perfume;
And with the Cyllenean lyre,
To ease our breast of horrors dire,
Lest they our frames consume.
Thus the great Centaur to his ward,
Sung lectures, “O unconquer'd lord,
205

“Whose birth from Thetis rose;
“The land of Phrygia thee expects,
“Where cool Scamander's stream directs
“Its course, and Simois flows.
“From whence (the fates have spun it so)
“You shall not be allow'd to go
“Home with your blue-ey'd queen;
“There thou the ills of every day,
“With musick and with wine, allay
“Th'alloquial charms of spleen.”
207

EPODE XII. TO MÆCENAS.

Taken up with his love for Phryne, he cannot finish the promised Iambics.

Why these lethargic fits,
Have wrought upon my wits,
And in oblivion sunk each sense;
As I had drank too deep
Of Lethe, bringing sleep
With greediness of thirst intense.
Mæcenas, candid knight,
Your questions kill me quite;—
The God of love has un-bespoke
The strains I promis'd you,
Nor may I them review,
Nor give the master's final stroke.
You too are all aflame,
And by as bright a dame
As fir'd the tow'rs of Troy—rejoice—
Me Phryne, just made free,
Wounds; tho', for more than me,
She gives her person and her voice.
209

EPODE XIII. TO HIS MISTRESS NEÆRA

Of whose perjury he makes complaint.

It was a midnight scene,
When Luna shone serene,
Midst stars in lesser order trib'd;
When you, about to break
The league of Gods, didst speak
The form of words that I prescrib'd.
And round my neck you flung
Your pliant arms, and clung
With more tenacious fond embrace;
Than to the lofty oak
The ivy—while you spoke,
And vow'd your vow upon the place.
“While wolf the lamb devours,
“And while Orion low'rs
“On sailors in the wintry sea;
“And while Apollo's hair,
“Flows to the sportive air,
“This love of ours shou'd mutual be!”
O nymph about to pine,
For these resolves of mine;
For if my manhood yet remain,
I will no rival bear,
Neæra's bed to share,
But love shall seek for love again.
211

Nor will I re-commence
With her, who gave offence,
My flame with any new desire;
When once the rankling smart,
Has setled in my heart,
And fix'd me in determin'd ire.
But you, whoe'er you are,
Of more propitious star,
That strut'st triumphant o'er my woe;
Tho' rich in land and stock,
And by your feeding flock,
For thee in gold Pactolus flow.
Tho' thou canst con each page,
Of that transmuted sage,
Than Nireus handsomer appear;
Yet thou shalt soon lament,
A similar event,
And I in turn shall laugh and sneer.
213

EPODE XIV. TO THE PEOPLE OF ROME.

His commiseration with the Republic on account of the civil wars.

Another age our civil wars compleat,
And Rome is ruin'd by her own strong hand;
Whom nor the neighb'ring Marsians cou'd defeat,
Nor threat'ning Porsena's Etruscan band.
Nor Spartacus, nor Capua's rival boasts,
Nor innovating Allobrox cou'd worst;
Nor rough Germania, with her blue-ey'd hosts,
Nor Hannibal by Roman parents curst.
But we destroy her, the vile race she bred,
And beasts again shall seize upon the ground;
Barbarian chiefs shall on her ashes tread,
And with their horses hoofs her streets shall sound.
And Romulus his bones (dread sight to see!)
They shall disperse now kept from wind and sun;
Perhaps you all, or a majority,
Wou'd learn which way this dire distress to shun.
215

No better scheme than those Phoceans chose,
And execrating did their place forsake;
And left fields, houses, temples for their foes,
And for the bears or rav'nous wolves to take.
To go where'er our feet, where'r the wind
Or south or rude south-west shall us convey;
Can any a more apt expedient find,
The voyage looks fair, why do we yet delay?
But let us first to these conditions swear,
That stones shall swim emerging from the deep;
Or Po, ere any to return shall dare,
Matinian summits in his streams shall steep.
And to the main high Apennine remove,
And join new monsters in the lustful fit;
Until the kite adulterate the dove,
And to the stags the tigresses submit.
Nor tawny lion the weak flocks elude,
And shaven goats in the salt wave delight;
This, and whate'er assertion may preclude,
Our sweet return let us, all Rome, recite.
217

All go,—at least the more ingenuous part,
The soft and hopeless on their couches lie;—
But cease effeminate grief each noble heart,
And fly the Tuscan shores, set sail and fly.
Circumfluent ocean waits us,—steer the fleet
To plains, the happy plains and blessed isle;
Where earth untill'd each year supplies the wheat,
And undrest vine-trees wear a lasting smile.
Her bud the never-failing olive fills,
And the black figs their native branches grace;—
From hollow oaks flows honey,—and the rills
Down lofty mountains leap with tinkling pace.
She-goats, unbidden, seek the milk-pail there,
And kindly flocks, full-udder'd, homeward speed;
Nor round the sheep-coat growls the ev'ning bear,
Nor adders lurk beneath th'unshaven mead!
And still on stronger beauties shall we gaze,
How the dank east nor lays the bearded ears;
Nor the fat glebe is burnt by torrid rays,
Earth temper'd by the sov'reign of the spheres.
219

This place the vessel Argo ne'er found out,
Nor impudent Medea ever knew;
Nor here Sidonian sailors tack'd about,
Nor here Laertes son's laborious crew.
No murrain hurts the cattle, nor by heat
Of starry influence are the flocks destroy'd;
Jove did these stores for pious souls secrete,
When he the golden age with brass alloy'd.
The golden age he first alloy'd with brass,
With iron next he made the times more hard;
Whence, for good Romans, there shall come to pass
A sure escape, if Horace be a bard.
221

EPODE XV. TO CANIDIA.

He begs of her that she would forgive him, and feigns himself to be over-powered by her magic.

At length to scientific charms
I yield, whose force my heart alarms,
And suppliant pray thee by the reign
Of Proserpine and Dian's fane,
Whose pow'r's inexorably fierce,
And by the books of magic verse,
That make the very stars descend
From heav'n, and cite them to attend.—
No more in cursed mumblings deal,
But backward turn th'electric wheel;
The son of Thetis, when implor'd
By Telephus, the man restor'd;
Tho' he with darts oppos'd his way,
And set his Mysians in array.
The corse of Hector meant a feast,
For dogs and ev'ry bird and beast;
223

The Trojan matrons cou'd acquire,
For unction and the fun'ral pyre;
When Priam went, and (hard to tell!)
Before the stern Achilles fell;
The crew of that laborious sage,
Cou'd from their bodies disengage
The bristles of the filthy swine,
Soon as sooth'd Circe gave the sign;
At which their voice and mind, and hue
She did recover and renew:
O lov'd by tars and factors, sure
Enough thou'st giv'n me to endure;
My youthful strength and colour's flown,
With ghastly skin on ev'ry bone;
My hair is with your unguents hoar,
My ceaseless toils are more and more;
Day urges night and night the day,
Nor can my gasping vitals play;
Wherefore I wretched have comply'd,
To own what I before deny'd;
That Sabine charms the breast can pain,
And Marsian dirges split the brain;
225

What wou'd you more, O earth and sea,
I burn to a more fierce degree
Than Hercules, what time he wore
The shirt besmear'd with Nessus' gore;
More fierce than those Sicilian fires,
Whose wrath from Etna still aspires:
For you your Colchian flames prepare,
Till, burnt to ash, I float in air.
What costs? What issue have you plann'd?
Speak out, I'll answer your demand,
Ready to give whate'er you chuse—
An hundred oxen, or my muse,
If on the lying lyre you please,
To hear such compliments as these.
“You, chaste and good, shall set and rise,
“With golden stars that range the skies:”
Castor and he, the other twin,
Tho' wroth about their sister's sin;
O'ercome by pray'r, restor'd the light
To him they had depriv'd of sight:
And thou (for you can do the feat)
Loose me from this delirious heat.
227

O thou ne'er stain'd by parents mean,
And clear of the sepulchral scene;
A prudent woman, that will spare
The nine-days-buried ashes there;
You have an hospitable heart,
Pure hands—can do a mother's part;
And tho' you shou'd be brought to bed,
Preserve your strength, your white and red.
 

Ulysses.

Stesichorus, who had defamed Helen with scandalous verses, was deprived of sight; but afterwards restored, by the divine power of Castor and Pollux.

229

EPODE XVI. CANIDIA'S ANSWER

In which she shews that she cannot be pacified by any intreaties, because the poet has made her magical proceedings public.

Why sue your pray'rs to her that mocks,
With listless ears not beaten rocks;
Where waves the wint'ry Neptune throws,
More deaf attend the sailor's woes.
What, unreveng'd, Cotyttian rites,
Which, sacred to luxurious nights,
Do all free intercourse indulge,
Shall you deride and you divulge;
And with my name the city fill,
As priest of our Esquilian still?
What profit, that Pelignian dames
Are richer from my chymic flames;
And that quick poison I contrive,
If thou'rt against my wish alive?
231

An irksome life thou shall retain,
For fresh and for perpetual pain.
Still pining at the dainty meats,
For ease false Tantalus intreats;
Prometheus, whom the vultur gnaws,
Wou'd also have his torments pause;
His stone too Sisyphus wou'd prize,
Up the high hill; but Jove denies;
To leap from tow'rs on earth beneath,
Or in your breast the sword to sheathe.
Now will you wish, and now will try,
The rope about your neck to tye;—
All this thou shalt attempt in vain,
Thro' tedious grief and sour disdain;—
Mean time I'll on your shoulder ride,
'Till earth shall scarce support my pride:
Shall I (as you who pry'd can prove)
Who make the waxen statues move;
The moon can draw from out her course,
By words of sympathetic force;
233

Can raise burnt bodies out of Styx,
And in the cup love-potions mix;
Shall I my fruitless art bemoan,
Without effect on Thee alone?
235

THE SECULAR ODE

For the safety of the Roman empire.

Phœbus and Dian, queen of bow'rs,
Bright grace of Heav'n, the things we pray;
O most adorable of pow'rs,
And still by adoration ours,
Grant us this sacred day.
At which the Sybils in their song,
Ingenuous youths and virgins warn;
Selected from the vulgar throng,
The gods, to whom sev'n hills belong,
With verses to adorn.
O fost'ring god, whose fall or flame,
Can hide the day or re-illume;
Which com'st another and the same,
May'st thou see nothing like the fame,
And magnitude of Rome!
237

And thou, to whom the pray'r's preferr'd,
The matrons in their throes to ease;
O let our vows in time be heard,
Whether Lucina be the word,
Or genial goddess please.
Make fruitful ev'ry nuptial bed,
And bless the conscript father's scheme,
Enjoining bloomy maids to wed,
And let the marriage-bill be sped,
With a new race to teem.
That years elev'n times ten come round,
These sports and songs of grave delight;
Thrice by bright day-light may resound,
And where the thickest crouds abound,
Thrice in the welcome night.
And you, ye destinies, sincere
To sing what good our realm awaits;
Let peace establish'd persevere,
And add to them, which now appear,
Still hope of better fates.
239

Let fertile earth, for flocks and fruit,
Greet Ceres with a wheaten crown;
And ev'ry youngling, sprout, and shoot,
Let Jove with air attemper'd suit,
While wholesome rains come down.
Serene, as when your darts you sheathe,
Phœbus, the suppliant youths befriend;
And all the vows the virgins breathe,
Up to thy crescent from beneath,
Thou, queen of stars, attend.
If Rome be yours, and if a band
Of Trojans safely came by sea;
To coast upon th'Etrurian strand,
And change their city and their land,
By your supreme decree.
For whom, unhurt, thro' burning Troy
The chaste Æneas way cou'd find;
He whom the foes could not destroy,
But liv'd to make his friends enjoy,
More than they left behind.
—Ye gods, our youth in morals train,
With sweet repose old age solace;
On Rome, in general, O rain
All circumstance, increase, and gain,
Each glory and each grace.
241

And he whose beeves were milky white,
When to your shrine his pray'rs appeal'd;
Of Venus and Anchises hight,
O let him reign supreme in fight,
But mild to them that yield.
By sea and land, the Parthians now
Our arms and ax with dread review;
For terms of peace the Scythians bow,
And, lately arrogant of brow,
To us the Indians sue.
Now public faith and honour dare,
With ancient modesty and peace;
To shew their heads, and virtue rare,
And she that's wont her horn to bear,
With plentiful increase.
The archer with his shining bow,
The seer that wins each muse's heart;
Phœbus, who respite can bestow,
To limbs in weakness and in woe,
By his salubrious art.
243

If, built on Palatine, the height
Of his own towrs his eyes engage;
The Roman and the Latian state,
Extend he to a longer date,
And still a better age!
And may Diana, who controuls
Mount Algidus and Aventine;
To those great men that keep the rolls,
And to the youths that lift their souls,
A gracious ear incline!
That Jove, and all the gods, will bless
Our pray'rs, good hope my thoughts forebode;
THE CHORUS, who such skill possess,
Phœbus and Dian to address,
In this thanksgiving ode.
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