Odes

Horace

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

Of Lyce, spared to raven's length of days,

That youth may see, with laughter and disgust,

A fire-brand, once ablaze,

Now smouldering in grey dust.

What honours can a grateful Rome,

A grateful senate, Caesar, give

To make thy worth through days to come

Emblazon'd on our records live,

Mightiest of chieftains whomsoe'er

The sun beholds from heaven on high?

They know thee now, thy strength in war,

Those unsubdued Vindelici.

Thine was the sword that Drusus drew,

When on the Breunian hordes he fell,

And storm'd the fierce Genaunian crew

E'en in their Alpine citadel,

And paid them back their debt twice told

'Twas then the elder Nero came

To conflict, and in ruin roll'd

Stout Raetian kernes of giant frame.