University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Odes and Epodon of Horace, In Five Books

Translated into English by J. H. [i.e. John Harington]

collapse section1. 
 1. 
 2. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 5. 
 VI. 
 7. 
 8. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 18. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
collapse sectionII. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
collapse sectionIII. 
 I. 
 2. 
To his FRIENDS. Ode 2.
 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. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 


52

To his FRIENDS. Ode 2.

Youths should be bred up from their tender years to hardship, Warlike life and painfulness.

Hardship to bear, Friends, let the lusty Youth
Through practis'd Warfare learn, that sharper skill;
Parthians vex well hors'd, with smooth
Bright-pointed Spear made dreadful still:
And spend his Life abroad couch'd under Sky,
In dangerous course; that Mother o'th' young King
(War made for Virgin, marriage nigh)
From walls beholding him, heart-sting,
Could sigh; Ay me! let not fair princely Spouse
(Rude 'mongst arm'd Bands) ore desperately provoke
The Lyon's paw, that Anger rouze,
Which slaughters all with deadly stroke.
Sweet, comely 'tis for Countries good to Dye,
Since Death pursues the flying Man as fast;
Hams of that faint-hearted fry
Nought spares, nor fearful Backs, at last.
True Virtue, worth, not knowing base Retreat,
With pure untainted Honours shineth fair;
Nor takes those Axes up (power great)
Lays down for vulgar-breathed Ayr.
Virtue, which Heaven unlocks to th' Nobler Souls,
Immortal rank, strives through incumbred ways;
Pop'lar croud but scorns, controuls
Like dirty Earth, and wings doth raise.
Yea safe Reward has cautious Silence try'd;
Who mystick CERES hallow'd things o're free
Divulge, nor shall imbarked glide,
Nor lodg beneath same Roof with me.
That Father of the Day, neglected when,
Hath th' honest scourg'd with those incestuous oft;
But near foregoing Impious men
Vengeance (though Lame) doth leave uncaught.