Odes

Horace

Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Conington, John, translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1882.

Damalis tosses off her wine,

But Bassus sure must prove her match tonight.

Give us roses all to twine,

And parsley green, and lilies deathly white.

Every melting eye will rest

On Damalis' lovely face; but none may part

Damalis from our new-found guest;

She clings, and clings, like ivy, round his heart.

Now drink we deep, now featly tread

A measure; now before each shrine

With Salian feasts the table spread;

The time invites us, comrades mine.

'Twas shame to broach, before today,

The Caecuban, while Egypt's dame

Threaten'd our power in dust to lay

And wrap the Capitol in flame,

Girt with her foul emasculate throng,

By Fortune's sweet new wine befool'd,

In hope's ungovern'd weakness strong

To hope for all; but soon she cool'd,