Odes

Horace

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

That race which, strong from Ilion's fires,

Its gods, on Tuscan waters tost,

Its sons, its venerable sires,

Bore to Ausonia's citied coast;

That race, like oak by axes shorn

On Algidus with dark leaves rife,

Laughs carnage, havoc, all to scorn,

And draws new spirit from the knife.

Not the lopp'd Hydra task'd so sore

Alcides, chafing at the foil:

No pest so fell was born of yore

From Colchian or from Theban soil.