Odes Horace Horace. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. Conington, John, translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1882. Why, Xanthias, blush to own you loveYour slave? Briseis, long ago,A captive, could Achilles moveWith breast of snow.Tecmessa's charms enslaved her lord,Stout Ajax, heir of Telamon;Atrides, in his pride, adoredThe maid he won,When Troy to Thessaly gave way,And Hector's all too quick deceaseMade Pergamus an easier preyTo wearied Greece.What if, as auburn Phyllis' mate,You graft yourself on regal stem?Oh yes! be sure her sires were great;She weeps for them.