Odes

Horace

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

(Wreathed ivy suits your hair, you know):

The plate shines bright: the altar, strew'd

With vervain, hungers for the flow

Of lambkin's blood.

There's stir among the serving folk;

They bustle, bustle, boy and girl;

The flickering flames send up the smoke

In many a curl.

But why, you ask, this special cheer?

We celebrate the feast of Ides,

Which April's month, to Venus dear,

In twain divides.

O, 'tis a day for reverence,

E'en my own birthday scarce so dear,