Proceed my Lute a Latine song tune ore Which both this yeare may live and many more Thou first tun'd by that Lesbian citizen Who valiant man at armes though he had been Amidst his troups or else had lanched out His navie from the washt shores tost about Bacchus the Muses too and Venus sung And her boy too that ever on her hung And Lycus beautifull with his black eyes And his black haire O Lute Apollo's prize And lov'd at feasts of mightie Iupiter O thou my labours sweetest temperer All happinesse be wisht to thee from me When in a comely sort I summon thee ODE XXXIII TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS Comforting him that loving was not beloved againe DOe not thou grieve too much bearing in mind O Albius thy Glycera unkind Nor tune sad lays ' cause one more young than thou Is more accepted throw her cancell'd vow The love of Cyrus doth Lycoris burne Fam'd for her comely brow Cyrus doth turne After rough-natur'd Pholoë but first Kids shall among Apulian Wolves be nurst Ere Pholoë sin with that loth'd Sodomite For so to Venus it doth seeme most right Whom it delights in brezen yoakes to bind With cruell sport unequall shapes and mind When once there su'd to me a love much better Myrtale held me with a pleasing fetter That slave that lowder than the sea could roare Of Adria curling the Calabrian shore ODE XXXIV He forsaketh the irreligious Epiturcan sect THe gods but scarce and seldome worshipper While skill'd in mad Philosophie I erre I now am made to turne my sailes perforce And fall back to my long-forsaken course For with bright flames the cloud dividing Iove His thunder-shod steeds and swift charet drove Through the bright aire with which the earth so great The winding flouds Styx and the horrid seat Of hated hell and the Atlantick border Is thorow-shaken Iove can quickly order Small things instead of great the man of worth He makes a begger bringing hid things forth The all-confounding fortune with lowd cry Hence had her height on this shee loves to lye ODE XXXV To Fortune Praying her to preserve Caesar in his expedition against the Britains GOddesse that pleasing Antium dost steare Being potent from the lowest step to reare The putrifying bodâ— and to turne The proudest triumphs â—o the funerall urne The Country poore swaine with his trembling vow Seeks thee and who the Turkish seas doth plow With Greek ships as the sea 's Queen honours thee The Dacians fierce and Scythians apt to flee From place to place cities and nations too And warlike Italy stands in awe of you And barbarous Kings mothers are afeard And Tyrants too with purple gore besmear'd O doe not thou wiâ—h a destructive foot Our firme fixt pillar from his basis root Nor let the gather'd rout to armes command Our quiet troupes to armes and waste our land Severe fate ever dos before thee passe Carrying sharp pikes in her hand of brasse And wedges nor from it is severed The tort'â—ing gibber nor the molten lead Hope and Faith seldome found being veil'd ore With a white vestiment dos thee adore Nor thee for her companion denies When as a foe thou leav'st great families With thy chang'd robe but the perfidious rout And strumpetizing perjur'd crue slinke out Friends when our hogs-heads to the lees are drie Failing to beare the yoake with us all flie Guard Caesar ready now to set upon The Britain the worlds utmost nation And our young souldiers fresh-waterd powers So Terrible to all the Fasterne shoares And the Red-sea Ah ah it shameth mee To thinke of home-bred skars and crueltie And brother against brother We hard seed what have we shunn'd we most accursed breed What left untri'd when did our young-train'd band In reverence to the gods restrain their hand What Altars did they spare would heaven that you Would fashion over upon an vills new Those weapons to be hammer'd out againe Against the Goths and the Arabian traine ODE XXXVI A gratulation for Numidas safe comming home and an exhortation to be merry I Love with frankincense and harmonie And heifers vowed bloud to gratifie Numidas guarding deities who again Safely return'd from farthest part of Spain Gives many kisses to his friends away But to none more than his deare Lamia Counting their youths spent under the same guide And their gownes changed both at the same tide Let not that glorious day want a white stone Nor stop page of the pierced butt be knowne And as the manner of the Salis is Let not our feet have rest nor Damalis Pow'rfull to drink much wine Bassus controule With the long'st breath exceeding Thracian bowle Let 's want no roses at our banquetting Parsly still green â—ilieâ— soone withering And all shall cast their eyes with lust to stain'd On Damalis yet shall not shee he train'd Away by any new adulterer Though shee more fond than clinging Ivie were ODE XXXVII Exhorting his compeeres to mirth for the victory at Actium NOw must we drink now freely dance my mates Now it is time to deck with Saliar cates The table of the gods it was a fault Of late to fetch wine from the ancient vault When the Queen with a lothsome muster'd breed A most infectious hospitall indeed Hammer'd the fancied death and funerall Both of the Capitol and state withall Conceiting that shee any thing could doe And being drunke with her sweet fortune too But scarce one ship escaping from the flame Pull'd downe her rage and Caesar new did frame Her soule made drunk with her Aegyptian crowne To reall feares pursuing her strait downe By sea when she escap'd from Italy Like as the Hawke at the poore Dove doth fly Or huntsman swift after a hare doth goe Through fields of Thrace quite cover'd ore with snow That he in chains the fatall beast might lay But she who sought to die a nobler way Nor woman-like afraid of swords did stand Nor with quicke sailes fled toth Aegyptian stand Who brave soule durst her ruin'd palace see With countenance full of serenitie And handle stinging snakes that she might draine Into her bodie their infectious bane Growing by her determin'd death more stout Scorning as captive to be borne about In strong Liburnian ships in vaunting show Being a woman of a spirit not low ODE XXXVIII Hee wills his boy to provide nothing but Myrtle to the setting forth of his banquet BOy I doe hate the Persian nicetie Their garlands bound with ribands please not mee And doe not thou molest thy selfe to know In what place the late springing rose doth blow I chiefly doe take care you should provide To the plain Myrtle nothing else beside Myrtle will not shame thee my boy nor mee Drinking beneath the shadowing vine-tree The end of the first Booke of the Odes of Horace THE SECOND BOOKE of the Odes of HORACE ODE I. TO ASINIUS POLLIO Hee desireth him to lay aside his admirable Tragedies concerning the civill warres that had beene in Rome and the severall occurrences
keep under Rushing upon us with his wrathfull thunder 'T is said Prometheus being forc't to it Unto his curious peece of clay did knit A portion cut from every thing and prest The raging Lions fury on our brest Rage with a sad destruction overthrew Thyestes and the chiefest causes grew In greatest Cities that they perisht all And the insulting foe drove on the wall His hostile plough stop rage for my brest heat Did in my flowing youth on mee too beat And upon sharp Iambicks sent me mad Now with milde songs I seeke to change what 's sad And since my scandalls have recanted bin Be friends with mee and give mee life agin ODE XVII TO TYNDARIS He inviteth her to Lucretilis which he highly praises SWift Faunuâ— from Lycaeum changing is Oft-times to the sweet aird Lucretilis And parching heat and cold winds doth remove Still from my goats unharm'd through each safe grove The strong-smell'd hee goats mates wandring about The sheltring shrubs and beds of Tyme seek out Nor the kid fold the green skind serpent dreads Nor martiall wolves when Tyndaris the meads And smooth-trod stones of steep Usticas ground With the sweet-tuned pipe doe thorow sound The gods keepe mee my pietie and Muse Is gratefull to the gods from hence accrues Unto the full out of the plenteous horne A wealthy treasure of the countries corne In a retired vale here shalt thou flee The Dog-stars heat and of Penelope And beauteous Circe both for one at suite Shalt thou relate upon thy Teian Lute Here shalt thou drinke beneath a shadie tree Goblets of Lesbian wine nere harming thee Nor Bacchus upon Semele begot Shall any quarellings with Mars complot Not yet suspected shalt thou Cyrus feare So rash left he his rude hands up should reare Gainst thee too weake and rend thy fastned crowne Off from thy haires and teare thy harmlesse gowne ODE XVIII TO QUINTIUS VARUS That the moderate use of wine makes men pleasant immoderate turbulent BOut Tiburs pleasant pasture and the wall Of Catilus plant thou no tree at all O Vorus sooner than the sacred vine For Bacchus to the sober dos assigne All hard afflictions nor otherwise Can they avoid sharp-tooth'd calamities Who in 's wine prates of tedious woe or want Who father Bacchus dos not of thee chant And thee faire Venus but lest some indeed The liberties of moderate wine exceed The Centaures quarrells with the Lapythae Skirmished in their wine admonish thee Bacchus advises thee the Thracians foe When greedie of their appetite they goe Through right and wrong with small distinction Thee gentle Bacchus He not set upon Without thy leave nor bring into the light Thy secret rites with many boughs bedight Thy trumpets shrill and Trojan horne restraine Which blinde selfe-love succeeds and glory vaine The emptie head more than is fitting swelling And glasse-transparent trust hid secrets telling ODE XIX OF GLYCERA He is so tormented with love that be cannot write of warre but wantonnesse THe Cupids cruell mother and the son Of The bane Semele commands me on And wanton libertie again to move My mind unto my long forsaken love Glycera's beautie fireth me alone Shining more bright than Parian marble stone Her lovely skornfulnesse inflameth mee And look too dangerous for me to see Venus upon me rushing with her might Left Cyprus nor would suffer me to write Of Scythians and of Parthians valorous On wrong-turn'd steeds nor what concerns not us Young striplings lay for me greene fresh turfe here Vervine and frankincense dispose me there With bowles of wine of two yeares old well fill'd Shee 'l be more milde the sacrifice being kill'd ODE XX. TO MAECENAS He inviteth him to a meane banquet WEak Sabine wine in small cups shalt thou taste Which in a Greek Pot clos'd my selfe had cas'd Deare Knight Maecenas when that the applause Was given thee in the Theater the cause That thy owne rivers banks and pratling aire Of the hill Vatican did again declare Thy praises unto thee Thou shalt digest Thy Caecube wine and grapes that have been prest Out of the Calene fat nor Falern wine Nor Formian hills adorn these cups of mine ODE XXI Hee exhorteth young men and maids to the praise of Apollo and Diana YEE tender Virgins Dian sing Yee young men long haird Phoebus ring And Latona loved deere Of the mightie Iupiter Sing yee her that pleased is With rivers and the leaves of trees Which in cold Algidum doe move Or Erimanthus shadle grove Or Cragus green Yee young-men raise Tempe with as many layes Doe ye also Delos hallow Being the birth-place of Apollo And his shoulders dignified With shafts and 's brothers lute beside He wofull warre shall chase from hence He wretched dearth and pestilence From people and from Emp'rour Caesar For the Persians up shalt treasure And against the Brittish nation Moved with your supplication ODE XXII TO ARISTIUS The integritie of life is every where safe which he proves by his owne example THe sound of life and from corruption freed Fuscus nor Indian darts nor how doth need Nor quiver full of poysoned shafts though hee Thorow the patching sands to travell bee Or the inhospitable Caucasus Or places which Hydaspes fabulous Runs through for in the Sabine grove from mee Being unarm'd a Wolfe away did flee While I did chant my Lalage and goe Beyond my bounds being devoid of woe A monster which nor warlick Daunia feeds In her large fields nor Iuba's kingdome breeds The Lions dry nurse Say you banish mee Unto those frozen lands where never tree Is recreated by the Summer heat Which part ' o th' world fogs and bad mists doe beat Place me beneath the carre ' o th' too-neere Sun Even in a Land where habitation Was never knowne yet will I still love thee My sweet-fac't and my sweet-tongu'd Lalage ODE XXIII TO CHLOE That shee should not feare him but forsake her mother being ripe for a husband LIke to a Hinde thou Chloe dost me fly That seeks his dam upon the mountaines high With a fond feare of winds and trees For if the spring-time with mov'd leaves did rush Or green-skind Adder brustled through abush He trembles both in heart and knees But I not like a Tyger fell Or a Getulian Lion will Pursue to reare thee cease at length to flit After thy damme being for a husband fit ODE XXIV TO VIRGIL Of the death of Quintilius MELPOMENE thou unto whom thy fire Gave a sweet voice together with thy lyre Sing thy sad tunes what meane can be or end To the bewailing of so deare a friend Dos then an everlasting sleepe possesse Quintilius unto whom both modestnesse And Justice sister Faith from scandall cleare And naked Truth when will they finde a peere Bewail'd of many good men died hee Bewail'd of no man Virgil more than thee Thou pious man alas but all in vain Demandst Quintilius of the gods again Not lent them to that end but if that you Should tune that Lute
being taught ODE VII Of the brevity of life and the speedinesse of death THE snow is past the grasse returned is Unto the fields and leaves unto the trees The earth doth change her courses and the tides Being decreas'd run low on the bank side The Grace and Nymphs and her two sisters dure To usher in their dances being bare The yeere and howre which hence the sweet day flings Warnes thee thou shouldst not hope immortall things Frosts melt with the spring-winds the summer then Thâ—usts out the spring and that must perish when Fruit-bearing Autumn doth her store powre out And then again stiffe Winter comes about Yet the swift moones their he venly waineâ— can mend When we where good Aencas is descend Where wealthy â—â—llus and where Ancus bee Then ashes and a very shade â—â—e wee Who can tell whether that the high gods may A morrow adde to this last present day All that on your owâ—e deaâ—e soule you bestow Beyond your heires all-catching graspe shall goe When you 're once dead and Minos upon you His rare determinations shall shew Torquatus nor your stock nor eloquence Nor pietie shall ere release you thence For nor Diana from infernall night The chaste Hippolytus can ere acquite Neither has Theseus power to break in twaine From dears Pirithous his Lethien chaine ODE VIII That he can give his friends nothing but poems which he esteemes the best gifts BOwles and neat brasse I 'de give O censorine Being bountifull unto all friend of mine Tripods the valiant Greeks reward I 'de give Neither shouldst thou my worst of gifts receive If I were furnisht with those rarities Parrhasius or Scopas did devise This skill'd in stone in oily colours he To forme a god now now a deitie But I have not such plenâ—ie nor indeed Dos your estate or mind such dainties need You verses love we can give verses yet And on our present can the value set Not marble stones grav'd with the publick straine By which the soule and life returnes againe To brave words after death not flights full fast And threats of Annibal behind him cast Not impions Carthage fires more lowd proclaime The praise of him who having got a name From conquerd Aftrica came thence away Than doe the poems of Calabria Neither if histories doe disregard What you doe well shall you receive reward What thing would Ilia's and Mars son be If that repining taciturnitie Hinder'd the wouth of Romulus the sence Of potent Bards their smoothnesse eloquence Doth consecrate unto the glorious woods Aecus taken from the Stygian floods A Muse won't let a man praise worthy die A muse in heaven doth him beautifie So the untoiled Hercules drawes near To the desired feasts of Iupiter The glorious stars the twin Tyndaridae Snatch batter'd ships from forth the oreprest sea Bacchus his temples deck't with the green vine Doth bring his wishes to a good designe ODE IX TO LOLLIUS Of the immortalitie of poetrie and how many are forgotten for want of the poets pens He celebrates Lollius deservings DOe not beleeve those songs can ere be dead Which I at lowd-nois'd Aufidus being bred Did warble out by arts nere shewne before Upon the viols to be tune ore Although Maeonian Homer first place get Pindarus Muses doe not lye hid yet Simonidaean nor Alcaicks fierce No nor Stesichorus his pond'rous verse What ere Anacreon did sport about In former time age hath not yet raz'd out The love yet breathes and still survive the fireâ— Inspir'd to the Aeolian virgins lyres The Spaâ—tan Helen was not onely fired With an adulterers smooth locks and admired The gold on 's robes laid ore and ore again And his majestick carriage and his train Nor Teucer first in a Cydonian bow His arrowes shot Troy more than once felt woe Great Idomene and Sthenelus ne're fought Such combats onely worthy to be taught By Muses nor did Hector venterous Nor the most violent Deiphobus Heavy strokes first of all men undertake For their chaste wives and for their childrens sake Many brave men 'fore Agamemnon liv'd But all of them are pass'd away ungâ—iev'd And in an everlasting night unknowne Because a sacred poet they have none Vertue conceal'd is little different From sluggishnesse within the grave up-pent O Lollius I will not suffer thee Ungrac'd concealed in my lines to bee Nor will I let black-tooth'd oblivion Those thy so many labours gnaw upon Thou hast a mind both provident in state And both in prosperous times and adverse straight Punishing griping coz'nage and abstaining From money all things to it selfe constraining And not being Consull onely for one yeare But while he being a judge good and sincere Chose goodnesse above gaining and forsook The bribes of guiltie men with a brave look And through whole troopes of them that stopt his way Conquerour like his ensignes did display The man that is of many things possest You cannot truly terme him to be blest He better doth the name of blest enjoy Who understands how wisely to employ The Gods gifts and hard povertie to beare And wickednesse far worse than death doth feare For his deare friends and for his countrie hee To suffer death will never fearfull bee ODE X. The poet tells Ligurinus that when the flower of his youth is past he shall grieve to think he had not that understanding then which now he hath O Thou yet cruell and imperious grownei By Venus gifts when the unhoped downe Shall steale upon thy pride and thy haires shed Which now fly ore thy shoulders and thy red That 's choicer than the damask roses grace Being chang'd shall turn unto a wrinkled face Thee Ligurinus thou wilt cry alas When thou shalt see thee not thee in thy glasse When I was young why had I not this mind Or to these thoughts why not sound cheeks assign'd ODE XI The celebrating of Maecenas birth-day Phyllis must nâ—t aime too high I Have a tun of Albane wine full-gaged O Phyllis that is more than nine yeares aged And I have parsely in my garden plot To make us garlands I have also got I vie great store wherewith when thou dost twine Thy tresses up thou wondrous bright dost shine With silver all my house doth glister round The Altar with chaste Vervine being bound With a slain elambe to be besprinkled joyes Every hand now makes haste girles mixt with boyâ—â— Trudge up and downe the flames doe blaze about From the house-tops whirling the thick smoke our But what delights you are invited to That you may understand these Ides by you Must be solemnized which every tide Dos April sea-bred Venus moneth divide Solemne indeed and almost unto me â—oâ—e sacred than my owne nativiriâ— Because that my Maecenas from this light His yeares still flowing in to him doth write That Telephus at whom thou dost so aime 〈◊〉 young a man not of thy inferiour fraime A wench both rich and sportive hath obtain'd And in a pleasing fetter keepes him chain'd Burn'd