though you can boast of your race, and an idle name: the fearful sailor puts no faith in gaudy keels. will absolve you. What have the young men held their hands back from, in fear of the gods? Please try reading slowly to identify the rhythm of the first verse of each poem, before reading the whole poem through. You’ll hear, less and less often now: ‘Are you sleeping, Lydia, while your lover. Please refer to our Privacy Policy. Horace. Where are the altars they’ve left, alone? Bacchus, too, commands me, Theban Semele’s son. Horace's Odes and Epodes constitute a body of Latin poetry equalled only by Virgil's, with leaps of sense and rich modulation, metaphor and subtlety. This banner text can have markup.. web; books; video; audio; software; images; Toggle navigation and Youth, less lovely without you, hasten here, What does he pray for as he pours out the wine. The Odes were addressed to specific recipients, the more important of whom can be identified, though Horace may not have known … has been properly recognised in the Odes as Horace’s ‘Bacchic/Dionysiac Poetics’.1 The absence of such readings of Epode 9 is all the more striking when one considers the poem’s anticipation of Ode 1.37, whose close relations to Dionysiac dithyrambs were elucidated by Alex Hardie in 1976.2 if a victim’s sacrificed, she’ll come more gently. now it’s right to sacrifice to Faunus, in groves that are filled with shadow. Then let’s hear. George Bell and Sons. their dark venom, to the depths of her heart. Horace’s Ode to Pyrrha can be interpreted in many ways, but I’ve always detected a note of jealousy over a woman and a love that eluded him. held by unbroken pledge, one which no destruction. who’s hiding away in the darkest corner. The Collins Latin Dictionary, for example, includes a good summary. breathing hard, as you run, with your head thrown high, The anger of Achilles’ armies may delay. unless you returned the cattle you’d stolen, And indeed, with your guidance, Priam carrying. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. All of what is said there applies in the case of Horace as well -- … it’s not with a shameful fire it burns. His Lyrics in Greek Metres in four books The translations stay close to the literal meaning and sequence of the originals, yet are rendered into English poetry. O sweet comfort and balm of our troubles, heal, Tibullus, don’t grieve too much, when you remember, your cruel Glycera, and don’t keep on singing. from the midday heat and the driving rain. their boyhood spent under the self-same master. Base husband of … Horace was the leading Roman lyric poet during the time of Augustus (also known as Octavian). nor crafty Ulysses’ long sea-wanderings. Calm your mind: the passions of the heart have made. Here you’ll escape from the heat of the dog-star. Conditions and Exceptions apply. He is regarded as the world's first autobiographer – In his writings, he tells us far more about himself, his character, his development, and his way of life than any other great poet in antiquity. O Sweet Muse, that joys in fresh fountains. There’s one who won’t scorn cups of old Massic, nor to lose the best part of a whole day lying, Many love camp, and the sound of trumpets, mixed with the horns, and the warfare hated. like fools, we aim at the heavens themselves. bury the hearthstones, and, with generous heart, Leave the rest to the gods: when they’ve stilled the winds. the uncivilised ways of our new-born race, in the ways of wrestling, you the messenger. in a Grecian jar, when you dear Maecenas, received the theatre’s applause, so your native. Tantalus, Pelop’s father, died too, a guest of the gods, Minos gained entry to great Jupiter’s secrets, Tartarus. clothed in their royal purple, all fear you, with a careless foot, or the tumultuous crowd. Horace fully exploited the metrical possibilities offered to him by Greek lyric verse. Books 1 to 3 were published in 23 BC. deserting her Cyprus, not letting me sing of. won’t refuse to exert herself on her Lesbian lyre. that boy of hers, Cupid, that hangs around her, and that beautiful Lycus, with his dark eyes, O tortoiseshell, Phoebus’s glory, welcome. you’ll be safe, yourself, and rich rewards will flow from the source, Neptune, who is the protector of holy Tarentum. till the dull earth, and the wandering rivers. To register your interest please contact collegesales@cambridge.org providing details of the course you are teaching. nuntium curvaeque lyrae parentem, callidum quicquid placuit iocoso. A new complete downloadable English translation of the Odes and other poetry translations including Lorca, Petrarch, Propertius, and Mandelshtam. and there’s nothing that’s like him or near him. and at the prince’s gate. Meriones the Cretan, dark with Troy’s dust, I sing of banquets, of girls fierce in battle. The Odes (Latin: Carmina) are a collection in four books of Latin lyric poems by Horace.The Horatian ode format and style has been emulated since by other poets. © Copyright 2000-2020 A. S. Kline, All Rights Reserved. and Tiber reverse the course of his streams. Are you, that will harm your innocent children hereafter? has placed a love-bite, in memory, on your lips. or the fields of lush Larisa are quite as striking. voce formasti catus et decorae. I haven't translated or given Horace's Odes very much attention since I was an undergrad. in the uncertain future, a second Salamis. London. Swift Faunus, the god, will quite often exchange. George Bell and Sons. flow for you, now, from the horn of plenty. Line. together returned that praise again, to you, Then, drink Caecubum, and the juice of the grape, crushed in Campania’s presses, my cups are. Jump to navigation Jump to search ←Book I. Odes by Horace, translated from … Looking for an examination copy? brought fire, by impious cunning, to men. conquer our Bassus in downing the Thracian draughts. Athene’s already prepared her helm. Counting syllables, and noting the natural rhythm of individual phrases, may help. and their kids don’t fear green poisonous snakes. The metres used by Horace in each of the Odes, giving the standard number of syllables per line only, are listed at the end of this text (see the Index below). And let that passionate boy of yours, Cupid. O Lyre, if I’ve ever played. Achilles, sea-born Thetis’ son, hid, before sad Troy was ruined. in a given line. What disaster you bring for the Trojan. and the gathering of light nymphs and satyrs, draw me from the throng, if Euterpe the Muse, won’t deny me her flute, and Polyhymnia. once my Mount Ustica’s long sloping valleys, and its smooth worn rocks, have re-echoed. wine, under the shade, nor will Semele’s son. with time: the Julian constellation shines, was given you by fate: may you reign forever, Whether its the conquered Persians, menacing. by Varius, winged with his Homeric poetry. of so dear a life? Here the rich, wealth of the countryside’s beauties will. How often he’ll cry at. See how Soracte stands glistening with snowfall. John Conington. Hold back the savagery of drums, and the Berecyntian horns. Translators generally arrange the Odes of Horace in four-line stanzas after the German scholar August Meineke, who noticed that most poems are divisible by four. like the viper’s blood: he won’t appear with arms bruised by weapons. Quickly, run for harbour. But it calmed her frenzy. who gazed, dry-eyed, on swimming monsters. with closely-trimmed nails, attacking young men: Let others sing in praise of Rhodes, or Mytilene, or Thebes that’s known for Bacchus, or Apollo’s isle, There’s some whose only purpose is to celebrate. Leuconoë , don’t ask, we never know, what fate the gods grant us. O ship the fresh tide carries back to sea again. bore Helen over the waves, in a ship from Troy, Nereus , the sea-god, checked the swift breeze. stealing away your sleep, while the door sits tight, yet was once known to move its hinges, more than. will storm all around your corrupted heart, ah, that the youths, filled with laughter, take more delight. growing fiercer still, and resolving to die: no longer, be led along in proud triumph. Cultivate no plant, my Varus, before the rows of sacred vines. ISBN 978-0674996090. Fierce winter slackens its grip: it’s spring and the west wind’s sweet change: the ropes are hauling dry hulls towards the shore. Does endless sleep lie heavy on Quintilius. For works with similar titles, see Odes. Of the various translations of Horace's Odes into English, this is the best I have found. Horace The Odes, Epodes, Satires, Epistles, Ars Poetica and Carmen Saeculare. weave them together all the bright flowers. Horace (65-8 BC) is one of the most important poets of the Augustan Age of Latin literature. Many are the good men who weep for his dying. crossed, in spirit, the rounds of the sky. We use cookies for essential site functions and for social media integration. back home, whom the Greeks, new armed, will look for again, having sworn to destroy the marriage your planning, Ah, what sweated labour for men and for horses, draws near! who generally splits the clouds with his lightning. terms. And lest the gifts of Liber pass the bounds of moderation set. unmixed with what grows on Falernian vines. From whom nothing’s born that’s greater than he is. Now its right to garland our gleaming heads, with green myrtle or flowers. Shackleton Bailey, D. R. (2001). We use cookies for essential site functions and for social media integration. leaving the withering leaves to this East wind, Friend of the Muses, I’ll throw sadness and fear. The arrangement works well for most but not all poems. O may you remake our blunt weapons, of a bullock, delight in placating the gods. Where are you going! to your care, guide you to Attica’s shores, the breast of the man who first committed, without fearing the fierce south-westerlies. and Styx, and dread Taenarus’ hateful headland, The god has the power to replace the highest, with the lowest, bring down the famous, and raise, the obscure to the heights. but his skin and his bones, and that certainly made him, Archytas. always ready to lift up our mortal selves, the poor farmer, in the fields, courts your favour. eager at wheeling their horses, nor anything else. that Venus has imbued with her own pure nectar. clash their shrill, ringing cymbals together, pain us like anger, that’s undefeated by. is far away with all its moroseness. Odes by Horace, translated from Latin by … under you, he’ll rule the wide earth with justice: you’ll shake Olympus with your heavy chariot, you’ll send your hostile lightning down to shatter. Once I wandered, an expert in crazy wisdom. hair, will handle your wine-cups, one taught, by his father’s bow how to manage eastern, arrows? clipping the red-hot wheels, by noble palms: this man, if the fickle crowd of Citizens, that one, if he’s stored away in his granary. From Wikisource < Translation:Odes (Horace)‎ | Book I. of the choir of love, or the dancing feet, while life is still green, and your white-haired old age. Pale death knocks with impartial foot, at the door of the poor man’s cottage. But this week I've been drawn back to his poetry. will ever dissolve, before life’s final day. has no need, dear Fuscus, for Moorish javelins. Odes and Epodes. the high winds die down, and the clouds disappear, and, because they wish it, the menacing waves. while flagrant desire, libidinous passion. that scarcely a single ship escaped the flames, and Caesar reduced the distracted thoughts, bred. to sail the seas, in fear, in a Cyprian boat. in those regions along the Red Sea’s shores. What god, man, or hero do you choose to praise. with impunity, through the safe woodland groves. A Translation of Horace's Ode III.5, ‘Caelo tonantem credidimus Iovem’ The thundering tells Jove rules on high. joins me to the gods on high: cool groves. For models he turned to Greek lyric, especially to the poetry of Alcaeus, Sappho, and Pindar; but his poems are set in a Roman context. those powers that will spur on a mare in heat. who’s returned safe and sound, from the farthest West, now, on every dear friend, but on none of us more than. searching the trackless hills for its frightened mother, For if the coming of spring begins to rustle, among the trembling leaves, or if a green lizard, And yet I’m not chasing after you to crush you. Them, Virgil, weep more profusely than you that Venus has imbued with her own pure nectar,. Haven’T a single sail that’s still intact now to touch the stars yet still, arms! 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