Odes

Horace

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

Though steep'd in all Socratic lore

He will not slight you; do not fear.

They say old Cato o'er and o'er

With wine his honest heart would cheer.

Tough wits to your mild torture yield

Their treasures; you unlock the soul

Of wisdom and its stores conceal'd,

Arm'd with Lyaeus' kind control.

'Tis yours the drooping heart to heal;

Your strength uplifts the poor man's horn;

Inspired by you, the soldier's steel,

The monarch's crown, he laughs to scorn,

Liber and Venus, wills she so,

And sister Graces, ne'er unknit,

And living lamps shall see you flow

Till stars before the sunrise flit.