Odes

Horace

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

Has Crassus' soldier ta'en to wife

A base barbarian, and grown grey

(Woe, for a nation's tainted life!)

Earning his foemen-kinsmen's pay,

His king, forsooth, a Mede, his sire

A Marsian? can he name forget,

Gown, sacred shield, undying fire,

And Jove and Rome are standing yet?

'Twas this that Regulus foresaw,

What time he spurn'd the foul disgrace

Of peace, whose precedent would draw

Destruction on an unborn race,

Should aught but death the prisoner's chain

Unrivet. “I have seen,” he said,

“Rome's eagle in a Punic fane,

And armour, ne'er a blood-drop shed,