Odes

Horace

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

Evoe! my eyes with terror glare;

My heart is revelling with the god;

'Tis madness! Evoe! spare, O spare,

Dread wielder of the ivied rod!

Yes, I may sing the Thyiad crew,

The stream of wine, the sparkling rills

That run with milk, and honey-dew

That from the hollow trunk distils;

And I may sing thy consort's crown,

New set in heaven, and Pentheus' hall

With ruthless ruin thundering down,

And proud Lycurgus' funeral.