Sabidius has previously translated a number of selected poems from Horace's "Odes", Book III (see the item on this blogspot dated 28 September 2010 both for these and for a short introduction on Horace). Horace (full name Quintus Horatius Flaccus), who lived between 65 and 8 B.C., is best known for his "Odes", the first three books of which he wrote between 30 and 23 B.C. in a variety of metres in imitation of the Greek lyric poets. Prior to this, i.e. between 41 and 31 B.C., he wrote his "Sermones" or 'Satires', a book of satirical poems written in hexameters, in which he follows the satirist Lucilius (180-102 B.C.) in writing about contemporary life, including his own, and on human nature in general, and also his "Epodes", which were a precursor of his more famous "Odes", about which H.H. Scullard writes as follows in his "From the Gracchi to Nero", pp.246-7: "In the first six odes of the third book in particular, the so-called 'Roman Odes', he expounded the the traditional virtues of the race and nobly reflected Augustus' policy of social regeneration; though an Epicurean, he applauded frugality and the simple life. Other themes are less solemn, such as love and wine, but are all clothed in an unparalled economy and charm of language." Subsequent to 23 B.C., and with his reputation fully established, he wrote the "Carmen Saeculare", a long poem, sung by boys and girls on the Capitol and the Palatine at the centennial celebration of the 'Ludi Saeculares' in 17 B.C., and a Fourth Book of "Odes", published in 13 B.C. at the request of the Emperor Augustus. Other works, written in hexameters, were his two books of "Epistulae", written between 20 and 12 B.C., which express his maturer views on life and philosophy, and his "Ars Poetica", a book of literary criticism, probably written in about 20 B.C. To quote Scullard once more: "The wide appeal of his attractive and balanced personality, the shrewdness, if not the depths, of his comments on human nature, and the skill of metre and diction in which they were clothed, have alike combined to ensure his perennial attraction."
In his works, Horace does make many references to the events and circumstances of his own life, and these allow us to form some understanding of his career, and give us some insight into his personality. Translated below are a number of extracts in which Horace writes about himself and his views on life. These are taken from the book "Horace on Himself, selections from the Poems of Horace illustrating his Life and Character", edited by A.H. Nash-Williams, M.A., B.A., and published in the Alpha Classics series by G.Bell & Sons, 1962.
I. My father.
The following two extracts concern Horace's debt to his father, who, although a freedman with limited means, made it his priority to provide his son with a privileged education, and personally oversaw that he was brought up against a background of traditional morality.
The following two extracts concern Horace's debt to his father, who, although a freedman with limited means, made it his priority to provide his son with a privileged education, and personally oversaw that he was brought up against a background of traditional morality.
a. Satires I. vi. 65-89. Metre: Hexameter.
But yet, if my disposition is faulty due to some moderate flaws and (only) a few (of these), but is otherwise perfect, just as if you would find fault with moles scattered over a fine body, if no one can truthfully charge me either with avarice or sordidness or wicked debauchery, and, if I live, pure and innocent (to give myself some considerable praise) and dear to my friends, the cause of these things was my father, who, (though) a poor man on a lean smallholding, was unwilling to send me to Flavius' school, where great boys sprung from great centurions, having hung a satchel and a writing-tablet from their left arm, were used to go, each carrying eight (asses) of bronze on the Ides (i.e. the day when payment was due): but he dared to bring (me as) a boy to Rome, to be taught the accomplishments which any knight and senator that you please can teach their offspring (lit. those sprung from themselves). If anyone had seen my clothing and the slaves attending (me), as (he might have) in a large (throng of) people, if he would thought that those expenses were supplied out of (some) ancestral estate. (My father) himself, the most faithful guardian to me, was present around all of my teachers. Why (should I say) much (more)? He kept (me) chaste, which (is) the first noble quality of virtue, not only from every (shameful) deed, but also (from every) disgraceful allegation; nor was he afraid lest someone should assign (it) to him as a fault, if I were, some day, to pursue limited rewards (as) an auctioneer or (as) a tax-collector, as he was himself. Nor should I have complained (if that had been the case), and on this (account) is praise now due to him, and greater gratitude from me. (While I am) in my right mind, I can in no way be ashamed (lit. it can in no way repent me in respect) of such a father ...
b. Satires I. iv. 105-121. Metre: Hexameter.
My excellent father accustomed me to this (practice), (namely) that, by noting each one of the vices, I might avoid (them) by means of examples. When he exhorted me to live modestly and frugally and satisfied with what he himself had provided for me, (he would say): "Don't you see how wretchedly the son of Albius lives, and how miserably Baius? A strong lesson, lest anyone wishes to squander his inheritance!" When he sought to deter (me) from the shameful love of a prostitute, (he would say): "Be unlike Sectanus!" In order that I should not pursue adulteresses, when I could enjoy a lawful amour, he asserted: "A wise man will give you the reasons (for what) it is better to avoid, and what (it is better) to seek: it is sufficient for me, if I can preserve the morality handed down from the men of old, and, while you have need of a guardian, to keep your life and reputation unharmed; as soon as age will have hardened your limbs aiind your mind, you will swim without cork." So by these words he formed me (as) a boy ...
II. No soldier, I!
The ode below tells us how Horace ran away from the battle-field at Philippi in 42 B.C., and of how he celebrated the subsequent return home of his friend Pompeius.
"Odes" II. vii. To Pompeius Varus. Metre: Alcaic.
O Pompeius, the first of my companions, often drawn with me into the greatest danger in the campaign with Brutus (as) our leader, who has restored you (as) a Roman citizen to the gods of your native-land and the sky of Italy? With you (lit. whom) I have often broken the tedious (lit. lagging) day with wine, having garlanded my hair with Syrian oil. With you I experienced Philippi's swift rout (lit. Philippi and the swift rout), my little shield having been dishonourably (lit. not well) left behind, when virtue (was) broken, and menacing (warriors) touched the shameful ground with their chins. But swift Mercury bore me away in a thick cloud through the enemy (ranks); (but) the sea, with its foaming surf sucking (you) back, carried you back to war again. Therefore, render to Jupiter the due offering, and deposit your flank, wearied by the lengthy war, under my laurel, and do not spare the casks reserved for you. Fill up the smooth bowls with care-dispelling Massic; pour (on your hair) unguents from the capacious shells. Who is taking care to weave with speed the garlands with fresh parsley or myrtle? I shall not revel more sanely than the Edonians (i.e. Thracians): my friend having been recovered, it is delightful to me to act crazily.
III. My early days.
In the extract below we learn that Horace went from Rome to Athens to complete his education, and of the reasons which impelled him to take up verse-writing.
"Epistulae" II. ii. 41-52. To Julius Florus. Metre: Hexameter.
It happened to me to be nurtured at Rome, and to be taught how much the enraged Achilles did harm to the Greeks. Good Athens added a little more learning, no doubt to dispose (me) to distinguish a straight (line) from a curved (one), and to search for truth amidst the groves of Academe. But harsh times removed me from that pleasant spot, and the tide of civil war carried (me) inexperienced (as I was) into arms that were to be no match for Caesar Augustus. Whence, as soon as (the battle of) Philippi dismissed me in reduced circumstances, with my wings clipped and destitute of both my father's house and farm, daring poverty drove (me) to write verses.
IV. Introduction to Maecenas.
Horace becomes a member of the circle of Maecenas, a close associate of the Emperor Augustus and the principal literary patron of the time.
Satires I. vi. 52-64. Metre: Hexameter.
I cannot call myself lucky on this (account), (namely) that I got you (as) a friend by chance. For that best (of men), Virgil, (and) after him Varius, told (you) what (sort of a man) I was. When I came into (your) presence, speaking a few (words) in a halting voice, (for indeed shyness prevented (me) from saying more,) I do not tell you that I (was) born of an illustrious father, I (do) not (tell you) that I rode about the countryside on a Satureian (i.e. Apulian) horse, but (simply) what I was. You answer, as is your custom, in a few (words): I depart, and you ask (me) back in the ninth month afterwards and command (me) to be in the number of your friends. I consider this a great thing, that I was pleasing to you, who distinguishes honesty from turpitude, not by a famous father, but by a pure life and heart.
V. My farm.
Maecenas made Horace a present of a small farm situated in the Sabine Hills, to the south-east of Rome, set in a little valley running from north to south. Horace describes ii movingly in the following passage.
"Epistulae" I. xvi. 1-16. Metre: Hexameter:
The shape and the site of my land will be described to you in a chatty fashion, lest you ask (me), my best Quinctius, (whether) my farm feeds its master with arable land, or enriches (him) with the berries of the olive, or with fruits or meadows or the elm-tree clothed with vines. The mountains (are) unbroken, except that they are separated by a shady valley, but such that the approaching sun views its right side and the departing (sun), with fleeing chariot, warms its left (side). You would praise its mildness; what if my productive brambles bear ruddy cornel-cherries and plums? (What) if my oak and holm-oak help my flocks with many acorns (lit. fruits), (and) their master with abundant shade? You would say that Tarentum with its foliage (had been) brought nearer to (Rome). A fountain, too, suitable to give its name to a river, inasmuch as the Hebrus winds through Thrace neither more cool nor more clear, flows salubrious to the infirm head and salubrious to the stomach. These sweet, even, if you believe (this), these delightful, retreats present me to you unscathed (even) in the hours of September.
VI. Fount of Bandusia.
Horace never tires of saying how much he loves his farm, and this poem, one of his most beautiful odes, is written in praise of this spring which it contains. As a hymn of dedication - hence the sacrificial imagery within it - , it represents the unwinding of the poet's thoughts, as he contemplates the scene before him.
"Odes" III. xiii. Meter: Fourth Asclepiad.
O spring of Bandusia, more brilliant than glass, worthy of sweet wine, not without flowers, tomorrow you will be presented with a kid, whose forehead, swollen with the tips of horns, marks (him) out for love and battles; in vain: for this offspring of the playful flock will stain your cold streams with his red blood. You the cruel hour of the flaming Dogstar does not know how to touch, you provide welcome coolness for the oxen wearied by the plough and for the straggling herd. You, too, will become (one) of the famous fountains, with me singing the praises of (lit. telling of) the holm-oak placed over the hollowed-out rocks, whence babbling waters tumble down.
VII. Independence.
Despite his gratitude to Maecenas for the gift of his estate, Horace was anxious to demonstrate his independence and that he was not at Maecenas' beck and call. The extract below indicates his concern to avoid Rome during the late summer, when illness was rife in the capital, and a general desire to avoid any risks to his health.
"Epistulae" I. vii. 1-21, 25-28. Metre: Hexameter.
Having promised you that I should be in the country for (but) five days, untrue (to my word), I am missed for the whole of Sextilis (i.e. August). And yet, if you wish me to live soundly and in perfect health, Maecenas, you will grant (me), fearing to be ill, the indulgence which you grant me when I am (lit. being) ill, while (the arrival of) the first figs and the heat (of autumn) adorns the undertaker with his black attendants, while every father and mother turns pale (with fear) for their children, while dutiful diligence and the petty business of the forum brings on fevers and unseals wills. But if the winter spreads snow over the Alban fields, your bard will go down to the seaside, and take care (lit. be sparing) of himself and read huddled up (against the cold): he will revisit you, dear friend, if you will allow (him), with the West Winds and at the first swallow. You have made me wealthy not in the manner in which the Calabrian host bids (his guest) to feed on his pears. "Eat, if you please." "I have had enough (lit. There is enough [to me]) already." "But do you take away as much as you want." "(It is) kind (of you, but no, thank you)." "You will be taking little presents not displeasing to your little boys." "I am as obliged by your gift as if I were going away laden." "As you wish (lit. it pleases [you]); you will leave them to be devoured today by the pigs." The prodigal and the foolish (man) gives away what he despises and hates: such a sowing (of favours) as this has produced, and will always (lit. in all years) produce, ungrateful (men)......................But if you do not wish me to go away anywhere, you will restore my strong constitution (lit. lungs) (and) my black locks on a narrow forehead, you will restore (my ability) to chatter pleasantly, you will restore (my ability) to laugh becomingly and to lament, amid (cups of) wine, the flight of saucy Cinara.
VIII. A prayer fulfilled.
With his wish for a small estate having been answered, Horace prays that Mercury will protect him and his possessions. This extract also demonstrates Horace's profound gratitude to Maecenas for his generous gift, and his determination not to take advantage of his patron by coveting more.
Satires II. vi. 1-15. Metre: Hexameter.
This was (ever) among my prayers: a measure of land not so large, where there may be a garden, and a fountain with a continual stream near to the house, and, besides these, a little woodland. The gods have done larger and better (than this for me). It is well. O son of Maia (lit. O [thou] born from Maia) (i.e. Mercury), I ask for nothing more, except that you would make these gifts permanent to me. If I have neither made my property greater by evil means, nor shall I make (it) smaller by vice or misconduct, if I do not foolishly ask for any of the following things: " O if that little corner nearby, which now spoils the shape of my little farm could be added (lit. could go to [me])! O if some chance could show me an urn of silver, as, treasure having been found, (it showed it) to that man (who) bought that very land, which he tilled (as) a hired labourer, rich, with Hercules (as) his friend!" If what I have at present (lit. if what is present [to me], pleases (me), grateful (as I am), I beg you with this prayer to make my flocks fatter for their master, and (all) other things, except my wit, and, as you are accustomed, to be present (as) my chief guardian.
IX. My daily round.
From the extract below it is clear that Horace was a man of simple tastes, who deliberately sought to avoid both an extravagant lifestyle and an ambitious career.
Satires I. vi. 111-131. Meter: Hexameter.
Wherever I have a fancy (lit. there is a fancy to me), I walk alone, (and) I ask how much (is the price of) cabbage and corn-meal: I wander around the cheating circus and the forum often in the evening; I stand near the fortune-tellers: thence I betake myself home to a dish of leeks and and lentils and pancakes. My dinner is served by three slaves, and a white stone (slab) supports two cups with a ladle; a cheap basin stands nearby, a bowl with its saucer, earthenware from Campania. Then, I go to sleep, not concerned (by the thought) that tomorrow I must (lit. it is necessary for me to) rise in the morning so as to meet (the statue of) Marsyas, who denies that he can bear the countenance of the younger of the Novii. I lie (in bed) into the fourth (hour); after this, I ramble (about), or, having read or having written what (lit. or [something] having been read and having been written such as) may amuse me in a quiet moment, I am anointed with oil, (but) not such as that filthy Natta (uses), the lamps having been robbed. But, when the fiercer sun reminds me, (being) tired, to go to bathe, I avoid the Campus (Martius) and the ball-game for three people. Having lunched moderately (lit. not greedily), (but) enough to prevent me from having to endure the (rest of the) day with an empty stomach, I knock about at home. This is the life of (those) freed from wretched and burdensome ambition; with such things I comfort myself, destined to live more pleasantly than if my grandfather and father and great-uncle had been a quaestor.
X. Meeting with a bore.
As a friend of Maecenas, and later of the Emperor Augustus, Horace became vulnerable to the predatory activities of toadies anxious to curry favour with him. In this longish poem we find Horace seeking desperately to extricate himself from the sycophantic attentions of one such flatterer, and to do so without losing his temper.
Satires I. ix. Metre: Hexameter.
By chance, I was walking along the Via Sacra, meditating on some (lit. I know not what) trifling (matters), and (being) totally intent on these. A certain man, known to me only by name, runs up, and, my hand having been seized, (says), "How are you doing, my dearest of fellows?"
Very well (lit. pleasantly), at present (lit. as it is now)," say I, "and I wish you everything that you desire."
When he continues to follow after (me), I interject, "There isn't anything you want, is there?"
But he says, "(I wish) that you would get to know me (lit. us)," he says, " (for) I am (lit. we are) learned."
Hereupon, I say, "You will be of more (esteem) to me on this account."
Seeking sadly to get away (from him), at one moment I went more quickly, and then I stopped, (and) spoke something (lit. I know not what) to my slave into his ear, while the sweat trickled down into the top of my ankles. "O, Bolanus," I said quietly, "(how) lucky you (are) with your temper," while he prattles away, (saying) anything that comes into his head (lit. anything at all), (and) he praises the streets and the city.
When I did not reply to him at all, he says, "You desperately desire to get away; I perceived (that) some time ago: but it's no use (lit. you are not achieving anything): I shall keep right up (with you); I shall follow (you) hence (to the place) to which your journey now is."
"There is absolutely no need for you to be dragged out of your way: I want to visit someone not known to you: he lives a long way off across the Tiber, near Caesar's gardens."
"I am not doing anything (lit. I have nothing that I am doing), and I am not lazy: I shall follow (you) right up (to your destination)." I hang my ears like an ass with a surly disposition, when a heavier (than usual) load has been put upon his back.
He begins (again): "If I know myself well, you will regard neither Viscus nor Varius more as a friend than I: for who can write more verses, or (do so) more quickly, than I? Who can move his limbs more smoothly (when dancing)? I sing such that even Hermogenes would envy (me)."
Here, there was an opportunity of interrupting (him): "Do you have (lit. Is there to you) a mother, (or any) relations, who would be concerned about your safety (lit. for whom there is a need for you (to be) safe)?"
"I do not have anyone (lit. [There is] not anyone to me). I have laid (them) all to rest.
"(How) lucky (they are)! Now I am left. Finish (me) off: for indeed that fatal (moment) is sadly at hand, which an old Sabine woman, her divining urn having been shaken, foretold (to me as) a boy, (when she said): 'That (boy) neither cruel poison nor an enemy's sword, nor pleurisy (lit. pain of the lungs) or a cough, nor crippling gout shall carry off: (but) some day or other a babbler shall destroy him: if he be wise, let him avoid talkative (people), as soon as he comes of age (lit. his age has increased).' "
A quarter (lit. fourth part) of the day having now passed, we had come (lit. it had been come) to (the Temple) of Vesta, and by chance he was then due to put in an appearance for a man who had been bound over by bail: unless he were to have done this, he would (have to) lose his law-suit.
"If you love me," he says, "support me here by your presence for a little while."
"May I persish, if either I have the strength to stand (through the case) or I know the civil laws: also I am hastening whither you are aware."
"I am uncertain what I should do," says he, "whether I should desert you or my cause."
"Me, I beg of you."
"I shall not do (it)," he says, and he begins to go ahead of me. I, as it is difficult to contend with one's conqueror, follow.
"How (does) Maecenas (get on) with you?" Hence, he resumes (his prattle).
"He is (a man) of few acquaintances and of a very sound mind."
"No one has used opportunity more skilfully (than I). You should have a powerful assistant (in me), (the sort of man) who could play second fiddle (to you), if you were disposed to introduce your humble servant (lit. this man). May I perish, if you would not have supplanted everyone (else)."
"We do not live there in that fashion which you suppose: there is not any house either cleaner or more remote from such evils: it does not prejudice me at all," say I, "because a particular person is richer or more learned (than I): everyone has (lit. there is to everyone) his own place."
"You tell a tall (story), (and) a scarcely credible (one)."
"And yet it is so."
"You inflame (me) all the more as to why I should wish to be very close to him."
"You have only to wish (it): such (is) your merit (that) you will take (him) by storm: and he is (someone) who can be won over, and, for that reason, he keeps initial approaches (to him) difficult."
"I shall not let myself down (lit. I shall not be wanting on my own behalf). I shall corrupt his servants with gifts: if I am (lit. shall have been) excluded today, I shall not desist: I shall seek the right moments; I shall meet him in the street (lit. at the crossroads), I shall escort (him) home. Life gives nothing to mortals without great labour."
While he is blathering on (lit. pushing forth these [words]), behold, Fuscus Aristius meets (us), (a man) dear to me and (one) who knows that (fellow) very well. We come to a halt.
"Whence are you coming? And whither are you going," he asks and replies (to the same question). I begin to pluck (at his cloak), and to take hold of his sluggish (lit. very slow) arms with my hand, nodding and winking (lit. distorting my eyes) (at him) to rescue me. Cruelly arch, (and) laughing, he pretends (not to take the hint): bile burns my liver.
"Certainly," (I said to Fuscus), you said that you wanted to discuss something (lit. I know not what) with me in private."
"I remember (it) well," (said he), "but I shall speak (to you) at a better time: today is the thirtieth sabbath. Do you wish to affront the circumcised Jews?
"I have no scruples (lit. There are to me no scruples) at all on that account."
"But I have (lit. there are to me)," (he replies). "I am somewhat weaker (than you), one of the multitude. May you forgive (me): I shall speak (with you) at another time." (To think) that this day (lit. sun) should have risen so black for me! The rogue runs off and leaves me under the knife.
By luck his adversary meets him (lit. comes in his way), and shouts (at him) in a loud voice, "Whither (are) you (going), you very shameful (fellow)? and (to me), "Are you willing (lit. Is it permitted [to you]) to be a witness (to the arrest)?"
Assuredly, I assent (lit. offer my ear [to be touched]). He hurries (him) into court: (there is a clamour from both sides (and) a throng from all parts. Thus Apollo saved me.
XI. The simple life.
Advocating the virtues of the simple life was very much in tune with the Augustan programme of a return to the 'mos maiorum', and at the same time simplicity of life-style, related closely to his love of the countryside, was very much a matter of personal preference so far as Horace was concerned. As the two odes below indicate, those visiting Horace's modest villa could expect neither lavish decoration nor expensive wine.
a. "Odes" I. xxxviii. Metre: Sapphic.
Boy, I detest Persian splendour. Garlands, woven with (the inner bark of) the linden-tree, displease (me). Cease seeking in what place the late rose lingers. I care not that you diligently add with toil anything to plain myrtle: myrtle is unbecoming neither to you (as) a servant, nor to me drinking under this close-leaved vine.
b. "Odes" I. xx. Metre: Sapphic.
My dear knight Maecenas, (in my house) you will drink cheap Sabine (wine) in simple goblets, which, bottled (lit. stored) in a Grecian cask I myself sealed (lit. smeared [with pitch]), (on the day) when (such loud) applause (was) given to you in the theatre that the banks of your ancestral river and, at the same time, the joyous echo of the Vatican hill returned your praises. Then you will drink the Caecuban and the grape squeezed in the Calenian wine-press: neither the Falernian vines nor the Formian hills will season my cups.
XII. The country for me!
Horace had a supreme ability to write about serious matters in a light-hearted fashion, although that does not imply any lack of sincerity. To both amuse and inform simultaneously is the essence of satire. Among the more notable of Horace's satirical pieces is the charming story of the town mouse and the country mouse, in which he hints of the risks involved in luxurious urban living, when compared with the security of rural tranquillity.
Satires II. vi. Meter: Hexameter.
Once upon a time, a country mouse is said to have welcomed a town mouse into his humble mouse-hole, an old host (is said to have welcomed) an old friend, a rough (type) and careful with his stores, yet in such a way that he relaxed his thrifty soul with (acts of) hospitality. What more can I say? He begrudged neither his stored-up chick-peas nor his long oats, and, carrying in his mouth a dry grape and half-eaten scraps of bacon, he offered (them) up, wanting to overcome with his varied dinner the fastidiousness of (one) barely touching each individual (morsel) with his haughty teeth, while the master of the house himself, stretched out in this year's chaff, ate grain and grass, leaving the better (parts) of the feast (to his guest).
Finally, the town (mouse) said to him, "Why does it please you, my friend, to live uncomplaining on the steep summit of a wood? Would you (not) wish to place men and the city before these wild woods? Trust me,(and) take the road with me (as) my companion: since earthly (creatures) live, having been allotted with mortal souls, there is no escape from death either for the great or for the small; wherefore, my good (fellow), while we can (lit. it is permitted [to us]), live happily in pleasant circumstances; live remembering how short-lived you are (lit. you are of a short life)." When these words had convinced (lit. impressed) the country (mouse), he jumped nimbly out of the house: then, they both undertake the proposed journey, eager to creep under the walls of the city during the night. And now night was holding the middle space of the heavens, when each of them sets his footprints in a wealthy house, where a covering, dyed with bright scarlet, gleamed over the ivory couches, and many dishes (of food) were left over from a great dinner, which, (remaining) from yesterday, were in heaped up baskets (not too) far off. Therefore, when (the town mouse) had placed the country (mouse) stretched out on a purple coverlet, like a girt-up (slave) he runs about (as) the host, and makes the feast continuous, and also, in the manner of a house-slave, he performs every single duty, tasting in advance everything which he brings. Reclining, (the country mouse) rejoices in his changed luck, and amidst the good things he acts (as) a happy guest, when suddenly a great noise from the doors shakes each from off the couches. Terrified, they run through the whole room, and, petrified, they were more alarmed as soon as the deep house resounded with Molossian hounds.
Then, the country mouse said, "I have no need (lit. There is no need to me) of this (kind of) life, and "Farewell: my wood and my hole, safe from ambush, with some meagre vetch, will console me."
XIII. Pro patria mori.
Horace was also capable of writing in a serious way, especially on patriotic themes. In the extract below, taken from one of the six 'Roman Odes' at the beginning of the Book III, he encourages the youth to be brave and to die for their country.
"Odes" III. ii. 1-16. Metre: Alcaic.
Hardened by keen warfare, let the boy learn thoroughly to endure gladly pinching poverty, and, (as) a horseman dreadful with his spear, let him harass the wild Parthians and pass his life beneath the open sky amid hazardous deeds. Let the wife of a warring ruler and his full-grown daughter, beholding him from the enemy's walls, sigh "alas!" lest the royal betrothed, unskilled in warfare, provoke a lion, dangerous to touch, whom murderous anger drives through the midst of the slaughter. It is sweet and becoming to die on behalf of one's country: death also pursues the fleeing man, nor does it spare the knees and cowardly back of the unwarlike youth.
XIV. True courage.
In the poem below, another of the six 'Roman Odes', Horace recounts the heroic story of Marcus Atilius Regulus, who, having been captured by the Carthaginians with his army in 254 B.C. and sent back to Rome with peace terms, preferred to argue against these terms and then return himself to a certain death, than to recommend what he considered to be a dishonourable and cowardly peace.
"Odes" III. v. 18-56. Metre: Alcaic.
"(With my own eyes,) he said, "I have beheld our standards nailed to Punic shrines and our weapons torn from soldiers without bloodshed. (With my own eyes) I have beheld the arms of citizens bound behind a free back, and city-gates not closed, and fields, having been ravaged by our army (lit. Mars), being tilled. Ransomed by gold, the soldier will, doubtless, return more eager (for the fray). You are adding financial loss to disgrace: wool dressed in dye does not regain its lost colours, nor does true courage, when once it falls away, care to be restored to the degraded. If (ever) a deer, freed from thick nets, fights, (then indeed) will that man be brave, who has entrusted himself to faithless foes, and will he trample upon the Carthaginians in a second war, who, with arms tied (behind his back), has spiritlessly felt the straps and feared death. He, unaware how (lit. whence) he might win his life, has confounded peace with war. O shame! O mighty Carthage, (towering) higher on the disgraceful ruins of Italy!" It is recounted that, like (one) deprived of his status as a citizen, he banished from himself the kiss of his chaste wife and his little sons and grimly fixed his manly gaze on the ground, until his authority might fortify the wavering senators with counsel never having been given at another time, and amid his sorrowing friends he hastens away, a glorious exile. And yet, he knew what the barbarian torturer had in store for him: yet he made the kinsmen blocking his way and the people delaying his return stand aside, just as (lit. not otherwise than) if he were leaving the tedious business of his clients, their lawsuits having been decided, (and) making his way to the fields of Venafrum or to Spartan (lit. Lacedaemonian) Tarentum.
XV. True happiness.
While Horace made sincere efforts to assist Augustus in his policy of regeneration, his real interest as a poet lay with human beings and their qualities, and indeed what it was that particularly motivated them. He was aware how important it seemed to so many to amass wealth, but, as he emphasises in the extract below, he knew that such wealth often brought anxieties, not happiness, in its train.
"Odes"III. i. 17-32. On contentment. Metre: Alcaic.
(For the man) over whose impious neck a drawn sword hangs (i.e. Damocles), Sicilian feats will not furnish a sweet savour, and the songs of birds and of the lyre will not restore sleep: gentle sleep does not despise the humble homes of rustic men and a shady bank, nor a valley (lit. Tempe) fanned by the West Winds. Neither the storm-tossed sea nor the fierce onset of the setting Great Bear or the rising Kids, nor vineyards lashed by hail and the falsely-promising farm, with the (olive-)tree blaming now the rains, now the stars scorching the fields, (and) now the inclement winters.
XVI. The miser.
Another character type that interested Horace was the miser. In the following extract he mercilessly exposes the fallacy involved in hoarding one's possessions and not putting them to good use.
Satires I. i. 73-100. Metre: Hexameter.
Do you not know to what end a coin can be worth? Bread, a cabbage, a measure of wine can be bought, add (such other things), if these things were withheld (lit. these things having been withheld), human nature would grieve for itself. Does this help (you), whether to be awake, faint with terror, both night and day, to dread wicked thieves, fires, (and) your slaves lest they rob you as they run away (lit. running away). I should always hope to be very poor of possessions such as these.
But, if (ever) your body, tried by a chill, is in pain, or any other mishap should confine you to your bed, do you have anyone who can sit near (you), prepare medicines, (and) ask the doctor to get you up and restore (you) to your children and dear relations?
Your wife does not wish (to see) you recovered, nor (does) your son: all your neighbours, your acquaintances, (even) the boys and girls, hate you. Do you wonder that no one shows (you) the love which you do not deserve? But, if you are disposed to retain, and to preserve (as) friends, the relatives which nature gives you with no effort, you would be wasting your labour fruitlessly, just as if someone were to train an ass to run, obedient to the rein, in the Campus (Martius). Finally, let there be an end to your searching, and when you possess more, may you fear poverty less and begin to cease your striving, (the things) which you craved having been acquired, lest you do what a certain Ummidius (did): it is not a tedious story: (he was so) rich that he measured his money: (he was) so mean that he did not ever clothe himself better than a slave; right up to his last moment he feared lest lack of food should oppress him; but his freedwoman, the bravest of the daughters of Tyndarus, cut him in twain with an axe.
XVII. False ambition.
In this extract Horace warns against the dangers of seeking public office.
Satires II. iii. 168-171, 179-186. Metre: Hexameter.
Servius Oppidius, rich according to the old (standard of) incomes, is said to have divided two farms between his two sons, and, (when) dying to have said this to the boys, having been called to his bedside: ..... "Lest (a desire for) glory should entice you, I shall bind you both by an oath: whichever of you shall become an aedile or a praetor, may he be incapable of making a will and be accursed. Would you squander your property in (largesses of) peas and beans and lupines, so that you may proudly strut in the Circus, and so that you may, in your madness, stand (in a) bronze (statue), bereft of your paternal farms (and) stripped of your money, doubtless, in order that you may win the applauses that Agrippa is winning, (like) a cunning fox imitating a noble lion?"
ings back
b. Satires I. iv. 105-121. Metre: Hexameter.
My excellent father accustomed me to this (practice), (namely) that, by noting each one of the vices, I might avoid (them) by means of examples. When he exhorted me to live modestly and frugally and satisfied with what he himself had provided for me, (he would say): "Don't you see how wretchedly the son of Albius lives, and how miserably Baius? A strong lesson, lest anyone wishes to squander his inheritance!" When he sought to deter (me) from the shameful love of a prostitute, (he would say): "Be unlike Sectanus!" In order that I should not pursue adulteresses, when I could enjoy a lawful amour, he asserted: "A wise man will give you the reasons (for what) it is better to avoid, and what (it is better) to seek: it is sufficient for me, if I can preserve the morality handed down from the men of old, and, while you have need of a guardian, to keep your life and reputation unharmed; as soon as age will have hardened your limbs aiind your mind, you will swim without cork." So by these words he formed me (as) a boy ...
II. No soldier, I!
The ode below tells us how Horace ran away from the battle-field at Philippi in 42 B.C., and of how he celebrated the subsequent return home of his friend Pompeius.
"Odes" II. vii. To Pompeius Varus. Metre: Alcaic.
O Pompeius, the first of my companions, often drawn with me into the greatest danger in the campaign with Brutus (as) our leader, who has restored you (as) a Roman citizen to the gods of your native-land and the sky of Italy? With you (lit. whom) I have often broken the tedious (lit. lagging) day with wine, having garlanded my hair with Syrian oil. With you I experienced Philippi's swift rout (lit. Philippi and the swift rout), my little shield having been dishonourably (lit. not well) left behind, when virtue (was) broken, and menacing (warriors) touched the shameful ground with their chins. But swift Mercury bore me away in a thick cloud through the enemy (ranks); (but) the sea, with its foaming surf sucking (you) back, carried you back to war again. Therefore, render to Jupiter the due offering, and deposit your flank, wearied by the lengthy war, under my laurel, and do not spare the casks reserved for you. Fill up the smooth bowls with care-dispelling Massic; pour (on your hair) unguents from the capacious shells. Who is taking care to weave with speed the garlands with fresh parsley or myrtle? I shall not revel more sanely than the Edonians (i.e. Thracians): my friend having been recovered, it is delightful to me to act crazily.
III. My early days.
In the extract below we learn that Horace went from Rome to Athens to complete his education, and of the reasons which impelled him to take up verse-writing.
"Epistulae" II. ii. 41-52. To Julius Florus. Metre: Hexameter.
It happened to me to be nurtured at Rome, and to be taught how much the enraged Achilles did harm to the Greeks. Good Athens added a little more learning, no doubt to dispose (me) to distinguish a straight (line) from a curved (one), and to search for truth amidst the groves of Academe. But harsh times removed me from that pleasant spot, and the tide of civil war carried (me) inexperienced (as I was) into arms that were to be no match for Caesar Augustus. Whence, as soon as (the battle of) Philippi dismissed me in reduced circumstances, with my wings clipped and destitute of both my father's house and farm, daring poverty drove (me) to write verses.
IV. Introduction to Maecenas.
Horace becomes a member of the circle of Maecenas, a close associate of the Emperor Augustus and the principal literary patron of the time.
Satires I. vi. 52-64. Metre: Hexameter.
I cannot call myself lucky on this (account), (namely) that I got you (as) a friend by chance. For that best (of men), Virgil, (and) after him Varius, told (you) what (sort of a man) I was. When I came into (your) presence, speaking a few (words) in a halting voice, (for indeed shyness prevented (me) from saying more,) I do not tell you that I (was) born of an illustrious father, I (do) not (tell you) that I rode about the countryside on a Satureian (i.e. Apulian) horse, but (simply) what I was. You answer, as is your custom, in a few (words): I depart, and you ask (me) back in the ninth month afterwards and command (me) to be in the number of your friends. I consider this a great thing, that I was pleasing to you, who distinguishes honesty from turpitude, not by a famous father, but by a pure life and heart.
V. My farm.
Maecenas made Horace a present of a small farm situated in the Sabine Hills, to the south-east of Rome, set in a little valley running from north to south. Horace describes ii movingly in the following passage.
"Epistulae" I. xvi. 1-16. Metre: Hexameter:
The shape and the site of my land will be described to you in a chatty fashion, lest you ask (me), my best Quinctius, (whether) my farm feeds its master with arable land, or enriches (him) with the berries of the olive, or with fruits or meadows or the elm-tree clothed with vines. The mountains (are) unbroken, except that they are separated by a shady valley, but such that the approaching sun views its right side and the departing (sun), with fleeing chariot, warms its left (side). You would praise its mildness; what if my productive brambles bear ruddy cornel-cherries and plums? (What) if my oak and holm-oak help my flocks with many acorns (lit. fruits), (and) their master with abundant shade? You would say that Tarentum with its foliage (had been) brought nearer to (Rome). A fountain, too, suitable to give its name to a river, inasmuch as the Hebrus winds through Thrace neither more cool nor more clear, flows salubrious to the infirm head and salubrious to the stomach. These sweet, even, if you believe (this), these delightful, retreats present me to you unscathed (even) in the hours of September.
VI. Fount of Bandusia.
Horace never tires of saying how much he loves his farm, and this poem, one of his most beautiful odes, is written in praise of this spring which it contains. As a hymn of dedication - hence the sacrificial imagery within it - , it represents the unwinding of the poet's thoughts, as he contemplates the scene before him.
"Odes" III. xiii. Meter: Fourth Asclepiad.
O spring of Bandusia, more brilliant than glass, worthy of sweet wine, not without flowers, tomorrow you will be presented with a kid, whose forehead, swollen with the tips of horns, marks (him) out for love and battles; in vain: for this offspring of the playful flock will stain your cold streams with his red blood. You the cruel hour of the flaming Dogstar does not know how to touch, you provide welcome coolness for the oxen wearied by the plough and for the straggling herd. You, too, will become (one) of the famous fountains, with me singing the praises of (lit. telling of) the holm-oak placed over the hollowed-out rocks, whence babbling waters tumble down.
VII. Independence.
Despite his gratitude to Maecenas for the gift of his estate, Horace was anxious to demonstrate his independence and that he was not at Maecenas' beck and call. The extract below indicates his concern to avoid Rome during the late summer, when illness was rife in the capital, and a general desire to avoid any risks to his health.
"Epistulae" I. vii. 1-21, 25-28. Metre: Hexameter.
Having promised you that I should be in the country for (but) five days, untrue (to my word), I am missed for the whole of Sextilis (i.e. August). And yet, if you wish me to live soundly and in perfect health, Maecenas, you will grant (me), fearing to be ill, the indulgence which you grant me when I am (lit. being) ill, while (the arrival of) the first figs and the heat (of autumn) adorns the undertaker with his black attendants, while every father and mother turns pale (with fear) for their children, while dutiful diligence and the petty business of the forum brings on fevers and unseals wills. But if the winter spreads snow over the Alban fields, your bard will go down to the seaside, and take care (lit. be sparing) of himself and read huddled up (against the cold): he will revisit you, dear friend, if you will allow (him), with the West Winds and at the first swallow. You have made me wealthy not in the manner in which the Calabrian host bids (his guest) to feed on his pears. "Eat, if you please." "I have had enough (lit. There is enough [to me]) already." "But do you take away as much as you want." "(It is) kind (of you, but no, thank you)." "You will be taking little presents not displeasing to your little boys." "I am as obliged by your gift as if I were going away laden." "As you wish (lit. it pleases [you]); you will leave them to be devoured today by the pigs." The prodigal and the foolish (man) gives away what he despises and hates: such a sowing (of favours) as this has produced, and will always (lit. in all years) produce, ungrateful (men)......................But if you do not wish me to go away anywhere, you will restore my strong constitution (lit. lungs) (and) my black locks on a narrow forehead, you will restore (my ability) to chatter pleasantly, you will restore (my ability) to laugh becomingly and to lament, amid (cups of) wine, the flight of saucy Cinara.
VIII. A prayer fulfilled.
With his wish for a small estate having been answered, Horace prays that Mercury will protect him and his possessions. This extract also demonstrates Horace's profound gratitude to Maecenas for his generous gift, and his determination not to take advantage of his patron by coveting more.
Satires II. vi. 1-15. Metre: Hexameter.
This was (ever) among my prayers: a measure of land not so large, where there may be a garden, and a fountain with a continual stream near to the house, and, besides these, a little woodland. The gods have done larger and better (than this for me). It is well. O son of Maia (lit. O [thou] born from Maia) (i.e. Mercury), I ask for nothing more, except that you would make these gifts permanent to me. If I have neither made my property greater by evil means, nor shall I make (it) smaller by vice or misconduct, if I do not foolishly ask for any of the following things: " O if that little corner nearby, which now spoils the shape of my little farm could be added (lit. could go to [me])! O if some chance could show me an urn of silver, as, treasure having been found, (it showed it) to that man (who) bought that very land, which he tilled (as) a hired labourer, rich, with Hercules (as) his friend!" If what I have at present (lit. if what is present [to me], pleases (me), grateful (as I am), I beg you with this prayer to make my flocks fatter for their master, and (all) other things, except my wit, and, as you are accustomed, to be present (as) my chief guardian.
IX. My daily round.
From the extract below it is clear that Horace was a man of simple tastes, who deliberately sought to avoid both an extravagant lifestyle and an ambitious career.
Satires I. vi. 111-131. Meter: Hexameter.
Wherever I have a fancy (lit. there is a fancy to me), I walk alone, (and) I ask how much (is the price of) cabbage and corn-meal: I wander around the cheating circus and the forum often in the evening; I stand near the fortune-tellers: thence I betake myself home to a dish of leeks and and lentils and pancakes. My dinner is served by three slaves, and a white stone (slab) supports two cups with a ladle; a cheap basin stands nearby, a bowl with its saucer, earthenware from Campania. Then, I go to sleep, not concerned (by the thought) that tomorrow I must (lit. it is necessary for me to) rise in the morning so as to meet (the statue of) Marsyas, who denies that he can bear the countenance of the younger of the Novii. I lie (in bed) into the fourth (hour); after this, I ramble (about), or, having read or having written what (lit. or [something] having been read and having been written such as) may amuse me in a quiet moment, I am anointed with oil, (but) not such as that filthy Natta (uses), the lamps having been robbed. But, when the fiercer sun reminds me, (being) tired, to go to bathe, I avoid the Campus (Martius) and the ball-game for three people. Having lunched moderately (lit. not greedily), (but) enough to prevent me from having to endure the (rest of the) day with an empty stomach, I knock about at home. This is the life of (those) freed from wretched and burdensome ambition; with such things I comfort myself, destined to live more pleasantly than if my grandfather and father and great-uncle had been a quaestor.
X. Meeting with a bore.
As a friend of Maecenas, and later of the Emperor Augustus, Horace became vulnerable to the predatory activities of toadies anxious to curry favour with him. In this longish poem we find Horace seeking desperately to extricate himself from the sycophantic attentions of one such flatterer, and to do so without losing his temper.
Satires I. ix. Metre: Hexameter.
By chance, I was walking along the Via Sacra, meditating on some (lit. I know not what) trifling (matters), and (being) totally intent on these. A certain man, known to me only by name, runs up, and, my hand having been seized, (says), "How are you doing, my dearest of fellows?"
Very well (lit. pleasantly), at present (lit. as it is now)," say I, "and I wish you everything that you desire."
When he continues to follow after (me), I interject, "There isn't anything you want, is there?"
But he says, "(I wish) that you would get to know me (lit. us)," he says, " (for) I am (lit. we are) learned."
Hereupon, I say, "You will be of more (esteem) to me on this account."
Seeking sadly to get away (from him), at one moment I went more quickly, and then I stopped, (and) spoke something (lit. I know not what) to my slave into his ear, while the sweat trickled down into the top of my ankles. "O, Bolanus," I said quietly, "(how) lucky you (are) with your temper," while he prattles away, (saying) anything that comes into his head (lit. anything at all), (and) he praises the streets and the city.
When I did not reply to him at all, he says, "You desperately desire to get away; I perceived (that) some time ago: but it's no use (lit. you are not achieving anything): I shall keep right up (with you); I shall follow (you) hence (to the place) to which your journey now is."
"There is absolutely no need for you to be dragged out of your way: I want to visit someone not known to you: he lives a long way off across the Tiber, near Caesar's gardens."
"I am not doing anything (lit. I have nothing that I am doing), and I am not lazy: I shall follow (you) right up (to your destination)." I hang my ears like an ass with a surly disposition, when a heavier (than usual) load has been put upon his back.
He begins (again): "If I know myself well, you will regard neither Viscus nor Varius more as a friend than I: for who can write more verses, or (do so) more quickly, than I? Who can move his limbs more smoothly (when dancing)? I sing such that even Hermogenes would envy (me)."
Here, there was an opportunity of interrupting (him): "Do you have (lit. Is there to you) a mother, (or any) relations, who would be concerned about your safety (lit. for whom there is a need for you (to be) safe)?"
"I do not have anyone (lit. [There is] not anyone to me). I have laid (them) all to rest.
"(How) lucky (they are)! Now I am left. Finish (me) off: for indeed that fatal (moment) is sadly at hand, which an old Sabine woman, her divining urn having been shaken, foretold (to me as) a boy, (when she said): 'That (boy) neither cruel poison nor an enemy's sword, nor pleurisy (lit. pain of the lungs) or a cough, nor crippling gout shall carry off: (but) some day or other a babbler shall destroy him: if he be wise, let him avoid talkative (people), as soon as he comes of age (lit. his age has increased).' "
A quarter (lit. fourth part) of the day having now passed, we had come (lit. it had been come) to (the Temple) of Vesta, and by chance he was then due to put in an appearance for a man who had been bound over by bail: unless he were to have done this, he would (have to) lose his law-suit.
"If you love me," he says, "support me here by your presence for a little while."
"May I persish, if either I have the strength to stand (through the case) or I know the civil laws: also I am hastening whither you are aware."
"I am uncertain what I should do," says he, "whether I should desert you or my cause."
"Me, I beg of you."
"I shall not do (it)," he says, and he begins to go ahead of me. I, as it is difficult to contend with one's conqueror, follow.
"How (does) Maecenas (get on) with you?" Hence, he resumes (his prattle).
"He is (a man) of few acquaintances and of a very sound mind."
"No one has used opportunity more skilfully (than I). You should have a powerful assistant (in me), (the sort of man) who could play second fiddle (to you), if you were disposed to introduce your humble servant (lit. this man). May I perish, if you would not have supplanted everyone (else)."
"We do not live there in that fashion which you suppose: there is not any house either cleaner or more remote from such evils: it does not prejudice me at all," say I, "because a particular person is richer or more learned (than I): everyone has (lit. there is to everyone) his own place."
"You tell a tall (story), (and) a scarcely credible (one)."
"And yet it is so."
"You inflame (me) all the more as to why I should wish to be very close to him."
"You have only to wish (it): such (is) your merit (that) you will take (him) by storm: and he is (someone) who can be won over, and, for that reason, he keeps initial approaches (to him) difficult."
"I shall not let myself down (lit. I shall not be wanting on my own behalf). I shall corrupt his servants with gifts: if I am (lit. shall have been) excluded today, I shall not desist: I shall seek the right moments; I shall meet him in the street (lit. at the crossroads), I shall escort (him) home. Life gives nothing to mortals without great labour."
While he is blathering on (lit. pushing forth these [words]), behold, Fuscus Aristius meets (us), (a man) dear to me and (one) who knows that (fellow) very well. We come to a halt.
"Whence are you coming? And whither are you going," he asks and replies (to the same question). I begin to pluck (at his cloak), and to take hold of his sluggish (lit. very slow) arms with my hand, nodding and winking (lit. distorting my eyes) (at him) to rescue me. Cruelly arch, (and) laughing, he pretends (not to take the hint): bile burns my liver.
"Certainly," (I said to Fuscus), you said that you wanted to discuss something (lit. I know not what) with me in private."
"I remember (it) well," (said he), "but I shall speak (to you) at a better time: today is the thirtieth sabbath. Do you wish to affront the circumcised Jews?
"I have no scruples (lit. There are to me no scruples) at all on that account."
"But I have (lit. there are to me)," (he replies). "I am somewhat weaker (than you), one of the multitude. May you forgive (me): I shall speak (with you) at another time." (To think) that this day (lit. sun) should have risen so black for me! The rogue runs off and leaves me under the knife.
By luck his adversary meets him (lit. comes in his way), and shouts (at him) in a loud voice, "Whither (are) you (going), you very shameful (fellow)? and (to me), "Are you willing (lit. Is it permitted [to you]) to be a witness (to the arrest)?"
Assuredly, I assent (lit. offer my ear [to be touched]). He hurries (him) into court: (there is a clamour from both sides (and) a throng from all parts. Thus Apollo saved me.
XI. The simple life.
Advocating the virtues of the simple life was very much in tune with the Augustan programme of a return to the 'mos maiorum', and at the same time simplicity of life-style, related closely to his love of the countryside, was very much a matter of personal preference so far as Horace was concerned. As the two odes below indicate, those visiting Horace's modest villa could expect neither lavish decoration nor expensive wine.
a. "Odes" I. xxxviii. Metre: Sapphic.
Boy, I detest Persian splendour. Garlands, woven with (the inner bark of) the linden-tree, displease (me). Cease seeking in what place the late rose lingers. I care not that you diligently add with toil anything to plain myrtle: myrtle is unbecoming neither to you (as) a servant, nor to me drinking under this close-leaved vine.
b. "Odes" I. xx. Metre: Sapphic.
My dear knight Maecenas, (in my house) you will drink cheap Sabine (wine) in simple goblets, which, bottled (lit. stored) in a Grecian cask I myself sealed (lit. smeared [with pitch]), (on the day) when (such loud) applause (was) given to you in the theatre that the banks of your ancestral river and, at the same time, the joyous echo of the Vatican hill returned your praises. Then you will drink the Caecuban and the grape squeezed in the Calenian wine-press: neither the Falernian vines nor the Formian hills will season my cups.
XII. The country for me!
Horace had a supreme ability to write about serious matters in a light-hearted fashion, although that does not imply any lack of sincerity. To both amuse and inform simultaneously is the essence of satire. Among the more notable of Horace's satirical pieces is the charming story of the town mouse and the country mouse, in which he hints of the risks involved in luxurious urban living, when compared with the security of rural tranquillity.
Satires II. vi. Meter: Hexameter.
Once upon a time, a country mouse is said to have welcomed a town mouse into his humble mouse-hole, an old host (is said to have welcomed) an old friend, a rough (type) and careful with his stores, yet in such a way that he relaxed his thrifty soul with (acts of) hospitality. What more can I say? He begrudged neither his stored-up chick-peas nor his long oats, and, carrying in his mouth a dry grape and half-eaten scraps of bacon, he offered (them) up, wanting to overcome with his varied dinner the fastidiousness of (one) barely touching each individual (morsel) with his haughty teeth, while the master of the house himself, stretched out in this year's chaff, ate grain and grass, leaving the better (parts) of the feast (to his guest).
Finally, the town (mouse) said to him, "Why does it please you, my friend, to live uncomplaining on the steep summit of a wood? Would you (not) wish to place men and the city before these wild woods? Trust me,(and) take the road with me (as) my companion: since earthly (creatures) live, having been allotted with mortal souls, there is no escape from death either for the great or for the small; wherefore, my good (fellow), while we can (lit. it is permitted [to us]), live happily in pleasant circumstances; live remembering how short-lived you are (lit. you are of a short life)." When these words had convinced (lit. impressed) the country (mouse), he jumped nimbly out of the house: then, they both undertake the proposed journey, eager to creep under the walls of the city during the night. And now night was holding the middle space of the heavens, when each of them sets his footprints in a wealthy house, where a covering, dyed with bright scarlet, gleamed over the ivory couches, and many dishes (of food) were left over from a great dinner, which, (remaining) from yesterday, were in heaped up baskets (not too) far off. Therefore, when (the town mouse) had placed the country (mouse) stretched out on a purple coverlet, like a girt-up (slave) he runs about (as) the host, and makes the feast continuous, and also, in the manner of a house-slave, he performs every single duty, tasting in advance everything which he brings. Reclining, (the country mouse) rejoices in his changed luck, and amidst the good things he acts (as) a happy guest, when suddenly a great noise from the doors shakes each from off the couches. Terrified, they run through the whole room, and, petrified, they were more alarmed as soon as the deep house resounded with Molossian hounds.
Then, the country mouse said, "I have no need (lit. There is no need to me) of this (kind of) life, and "Farewell: my wood and my hole, safe from ambush, with some meagre vetch, will console me."
XIII. Pro patria mori.
Horace was also capable of writing in a serious way, especially on patriotic themes. In the extract below, taken from one of the six 'Roman Odes' at the beginning of the Book III, he encourages the youth to be brave and to die for their country.
"Odes" III. ii. 1-16. Metre: Alcaic.
Hardened by keen warfare, let the boy learn thoroughly to endure gladly pinching poverty, and, (as) a horseman dreadful with his spear, let him harass the wild Parthians and pass his life beneath the open sky amid hazardous deeds. Let the wife of a warring ruler and his full-grown daughter, beholding him from the enemy's walls, sigh "alas!" lest the royal betrothed, unskilled in warfare, provoke a lion, dangerous to touch, whom murderous anger drives through the midst of the slaughter. It is sweet and becoming to die on behalf of one's country: death also pursues the fleeing man, nor does it spare the knees and cowardly back of the unwarlike youth.
XIV. True courage.
In the poem below, another of the six 'Roman Odes', Horace recounts the heroic story of Marcus Atilius Regulus, who, having been captured by the Carthaginians with his army in 254 B.C. and sent back to Rome with peace terms, preferred to argue against these terms and then return himself to a certain death, than to recommend what he considered to be a dishonourable and cowardly peace.
"Odes" III. v. 18-56. Metre: Alcaic.
"(With my own eyes,) he said, "I have beheld our standards nailed to Punic shrines and our weapons torn from soldiers without bloodshed. (With my own eyes) I have beheld the arms of citizens bound behind a free back, and city-gates not closed, and fields, having been ravaged by our army (lit. Mars), being tilled. Ransomed by gold, the soldier will, doubtless, return more eager (for the fray). You are adding financial loss to disgrace: wool dressed in dye does not regain its lost colours, nor does true courage, when once it falls away, care to be restored to the degraded. If (ever) a deer, freed from thick nets, fights, (then indeed) will that man be brave, who has entrusted himself to faithless foes, and will he trample upon the Carthaginians in a second war, who, with arms tied (behind his back), has spiritlessly felt the straps and feared death. He, unaware how (lit. whence) he might win his life, has confounded peace with war. O shame! O mighty Carthage, (towering) higher on the disgraceful ruins of Italy!" It is recounted that, like (one) deprived of his status as a citizen, he banished from himself the kiss of his chaste wife and his little sons and grimly fixed his manly gaze on the ground, until his authority might fortify the wavering senators with counsel never having been given at another time, and amid his sorrowing friends he hastens away, a glorious exile. And yet, he knew what the barbarian torturer had in store for him: yet he made the kinsmen blocking his way and the people delaying his return stand aside, just as (lit. not otherwise than) if he were leaving the tedious business of his clients, their lawsuits having been decided, (and) making his way to the fields of Venafrum or to Spartan (lit. Lacedaemonian) Tarentum.
XV. True happiness.
While Horace made sincere efforts to assist Augustus in his policy of regeneration, his real interest as a poet lay with human beings and their qualities, and indeed what it was that particularly motivated them. He was aware how important it seemed to so many to amass wealth, but, as he emphasises in the extract below, he knew that such wealth often brought anxieties, not happiness, in its train.
"Odes"III. i. 17-32. On contentment. Metre: Alcaic.
(For the man) over whose impious neck a drawn sword hangs (i.e. Damocles), Sicilian feats will not furnish a sweet savour, and the songs of birds and of the lyre will not restore sleep: gentle sleep does not despise the humble homes of rustic men and a shady bank, nor a valley (lit. Tempe) fanned by the West Winds. Neither the storm-tossed sea nor the fierce onset of the setting Great Bear or the rising Kids, nor vineyards lashed by hail and the falsely-promising farm, with the (olive-)tree blaming now the rains, now the stars scorching the fields, (and) now the inclement winters.
XVI. The miser.
Another character type that interested Horace was the miser. In the following extract he mercilessly exposes the fallacy involved in hoarding one's possessions and not putting them to good use.
Satires I. i. 73-100. Metre: Hexameter.
Do you not know to what end a coin can be worth? Bread, a cabbage, a measure of wine can be bought, add (such other things), if these things were withheld (lit. these things having been withheld), human nature would grieve for itself. Does this help (you), whether to be awake, faint with terror, both night and day, to dread wicked thieves, fires, (and) your slaves lest they rob you as they run away (lit. running away). I should always hope to be very poor of possessions such as these.
But, if (ever) your body, tried by a chill, is in pain, or any other mishap should confine you to your bed, do you have anyone who can sit near (you), prepare medicines, (and) ask the doctor to get you up and restore (you) to your children and dear relations?
Your wife does not wish (to see) you recovered, nor (does) your son: all your neighbours, your acquaintances, (even) the boys and girls, hate you. Do you wonder that no one shows (you) the love which you do not deserve? But, if you are disposed to retain, and to preserve (as) friends, the relatives which nature gives you with no effort, you would be wasting your labour fruitlessly, just as if someone were to train an ass to run, obedient to the rein, in the Campus (Martius). Finally, let there be an end to your searching, and when you possess more, may you fear poverty less and begin to cease your striving, (the things) which you craved having been acquired, lest you do what a certain Ummidius (did): it is not a tedious story: (he was so) rich that he measured his money: (he was) so mean that he did not ever clothe himself better than a slave; right up to his last moment he feared lest lack of food should oppress him; but his freedwoman, the bravest of the daughters of Tyndarus, cut him in twain with an axe.
XVII. False ambition.
In this extract Horace warns against the dangers of seeking public office.
Satires II. iii. 168-171, 179-186. Metre: Hexameter.
Servius Oppidius, rich according to the old (standard of) incomes, is said to have divided two farms between his two sons, and, (when) dying to have said this to the boys, having been called to his bedside: ..... "Lest (a desire for) glory should entice you, I shall bind you both by an oath: whichever of you shall become an aedile or a praetor, may he be incapable of making a will and be accursed. Would you squander your property in (largesses of) peas and beans and lupines, so that you may proudly strut in the Circus, and so that you may, in your madness, stand (in a) bronze (statue), bereft of your paternal farms (and) stripped of your money, doubtless, in order that you may win the applauses that Agrippa is winning, (like) a cunning fox imitating a noble lion?"
ings back
XVIII. 'Cut your coat according to your cloth.'
In the following extract, men of limited means are encouraged not to develop tastes which they cannot afford.
"Epistulae" I. xviii. 21-31. To Lollius. Metre: Hexameter.
(Him) whom pernicious lust, whom the fatal dice strips, whom vanity beyond his means both dresses and perfumes, whom insatiable thirst and hunger for money, whom shame and avoidance of poverty possesses, his rich friend, (though) frequently equipped with many more vices (lit. more equipped with ten vices), hates and abhors, or, if he does not hate, he rules (him), and, like a dutiful mother, wants (him) to be wiser than himself, and to be his superior in virtues, and he says (what are) nearly true (words): "My wealth - do not (lit. be unwilling to) vie (with me) - permits (me to indulge) my folly; your income is a little small: a close fitting toga suits a sensible dependant: cease to compete with me."
XIX. The golden mean.
With his preference for a moderate and simple life-style, Horace was attracted to the Aristotelian concept of the 'golden mean'.
"Odes" II. x. To Licinius Murena. Metre: Sapphic.
You will live more uprightly, Licinius, by neither always pursuing the deep (sea), nor, while, in your caution, you shrink from squalls, by keeping too close to (lit. by pressing too much) the hazardous shore. Whosoever loves the golden mean safely avoids the squalour of an antiquated house (and) rather prudently avoids a palace worthy to be envied. The lofty pine is often agitated by winds, and high towers fall down with a heavier calamity, and (bolts of) lightning strike the summits of mountains. The well-prepared breast hopes in adversity, (and) fears in prosperity, a different outcome (lit. lot). Jupiter brings back the hideous winters, the same (god) takes (them) away. If (the prospect is) gloomy now, it will not be so in the future also: Apollo sometimes arouses his silent muse with his lyre, and does not always bend his bow. In straitened circumstances appear high-spirited and undaunted: likewise you will prudently contract your sails, swollen too much in a favourable wind.
XX. An Epicurean I!
For Horace a moderate life-style was not incompatible with enjoying the good things of life. In the extract below he declares himself a follower of Epicurus, the Greek philosopher, for whom the main aim of life was to avoid pain of mind and body and to seek pleasure.
"Epistulae" I. iv. To Albius Tibullus. Metre: Hexameter.
Albius, (you) candid judge of my conversations, what shall I now say you are doing in the country of Pedum? That you are writing something that will surpass the little works of Cassius of Parma, or that you are strolling silently among the health-giving groves, reflecting upon whatever is worthy of a wise and good (man)? You used not to be a body without a mind: the gods (have given) you a (handsome) form, the gods have given you wealth and the ability to enjoy (it). What greater (blessing) could a loving nurse wish for a dear foster-child, if he could be wise and express what he feels, and, (if) grace, reputation and health may come to him in abundance, as well as a decent mode of life and a never-ending purse? Amidst hope and care, amidst fears and irritations, think that very day that has dawned upon you (is) your last: (thus) the hour, which will not be expected, will come upon (you) gladly. When you are disposed to laugh, you will come and see (lit. visit) me, fat and sleek, with a well-cared for skin, a hog from Epicurus' herd.
XXI. A day of celebration.
As the extract below shows, Horace certainly knew how to enjoy life when the occasion arose. The public holiday to celebrate Augustus' safe return from Spain in 25 B.C. was one such opportunity.
"Odes" III. xiv. 13-28.
This day, truly a holiday for me, shall banish gloomy cares: with Caesar (i.e. Augustus) possessing the earth, I shall neither dread an uprising nor death through violence. Go, slave, and seek perfume and garlands and a cask remembering the Marsian War (i.e. the Social War 90 B.C.), if any jar could have eluded the marauding Spartacus. Also, tell clear-voiced Neaera to make haste to bind her perfumed into a knot; but, if (any) delay should happen through the hated janitor, come away. Whitening hair cools my spirit, (once) eager for quarrels and wanton wrangling; I should not have endured this treatment, (when) warm with youth, with Plancus (as) consul (i.e. 42 B.C.).
XXII. Are there gods?
Horace seems generally to have adopted a sceptical attitude towards the gods, but in the following extract he indicates that he has been given food for thought by the phenomenon of thunder coming from a cloudless sky.
"Odes" I. xxxiv. Against the Epicureans. Metre: Alcaic.
A sparing and infrequent worshipper of the gods, while I strayed, adept in a foolish philosophy, I am now obliged to set sail (lit. to give my sails [to the wind]) back again and renew my abandoned course: for Jupiter, usually cleaving the clouds with flashing fire, (lately) drove his thundering horses and swift chariot through a clear (sky), by which the sluggish earth and the wandering rivers, by which the Styx and the dread seat of hateful Taenarus, and the boundary of Atlas are shaken. The deity is able to exchange the lowest with the highest, and diminishes the exalted (man), bringing the obscure to light; rapacious fortune, with a shrill whizzing, has (ever) lifted the crown from one head (and) rejoices to have placed (it) on another.
XXIII. The biter bit!
One of Horace's more attractive character traits was his capacity to recognise his own failings and to laugh at himself. In the extracts below his house-slave Davus purports to upbraid him for displaying the same faults which he censures in others.
Satires II. vii. 23-35, 83-88, 102-115.
'You praise the customs of the ancient (Roman) people, and yet, if any god were suddenly to push you towards those things, you would reject (them), either because you do not really feel that what you are shouting about is (really) the more upright (course), or because you do not defend the right with real conviction (lit. firmly), and you are at a loss, in master of himselfvain desiring to extract your foot from the mire. At Rome you long for the country; (when) in the country, in your fickleness, you extol the city to the stars.If, by chance, you have not been invited to dinner anywhere, you praise your plain (dish of) cabbage, and, as though you would ever not go out (but) under compulsion, you say that you are so happy, and you hug (yourself), that it is not necessary for you to drink somewhere (else). (But) should Maecenas bid you to come to him, (as) a guest, late, just before the first lamps, "Does no one bring the oil more quickly? Is anybody listening?" You roar with a loud shout and rush off.'
'Who on earth (is) free? The wise (man), who (is) master of himself, whom neither poverty, nor death, nor death, nor chains affright, brave in checking his desires (and) in scorning honours, and whole within himself, polished and round, so that not anything from outside can linger on account of his smoothness, (and) against whom misfortune ever rushes (only to be) maimed.'
'I (am) a good-for-nothing, if I am tempted by a smoking pasty: but, as for you, does your great virtue and soul resist rich dinners? Why is obedience to my belly (so) ruinous to me? To be sure, I am punished by my back. How do you grab with impunity those delicacies which cannot be taken for a little (expense)? For sure, those little feasts, (taken) without limit, grow bitter, and your tricked feet refuse to bear your over-indulged body. Does that slave sin who by night exchanges (some) grapes for a stolen strigil? Does he, who, obedient to his appetite, sells his estates, have nothing servile (about him)? Add (the fact) that you cannot likewise be in your own company (lit. with yourself) for an hour, nor dispose of your leisure properly, and that you shun yourself (as) a runaway and a vagabond, endeavouring, at one time, by wine, and, at another time, by sleep, to cheat care; in vain: for that gloomy companion presses (upon you) and pursues you in your flight.'
XXIV. To a wine-jar.
This delightful ode reflects Horace's cheerful and happy disposition, and his capacity to enjoy life.
"Odes" III. xxi. Metre: Alcaic.
O dutiful jar, born with me, with Manlius (being) consul, whether you bring complaints or jokes, or conflict and crazy loves, or effortless slumber, under whatever pretext you preserve the choice Massic (vintage), worthy to be served on an auspicious day, descend (to earth), with Corvinus ordering (me) to bring forth a mellower wine. Although he is steeped in Socratic dialogues, he will not slight you in an unkempt fashion: even the virtue of ancient Cato is reputed to have often been warmed by undiluted wine. You gently apply the rack to a generally unyielding disposition: you reveal the concerns and secret design of philosophers through merry Lyaeus (i.e. Bacchus): you restore hope to anxious minds and you give strength and horns to a poor man, after (drinking) you, trembling neither at the angry diadems of kings nor at the weapons of soldiers. Liber (i.e. Bacchus), and, if she will kindly be present, Venus, and the Graces, lothe to loosen the knot (that binds them), and the still-burning (lit. living) lanterns, shall lead you on, until Phoebus returning puts the stars to flight.
XXV. A lovers' quarrel.
Horace never married but he almost certainly enjoyed a number of amorous relationships when he was a young man. In the poem below, the only example from his works of the 'carmen amoebaeum' (the poem in dialogue), he portrays an imaginary reconciliation between two young lovers.
"Odes" III. ix. To Lydia. Metre: Second Asclepiad.
HE: As long as I was agreeable to you, nor did any more favoured youth put his arms around (lit. give his arms to) your snowy-white neck, I flourished more happily than the king of the Persians.
SHE: As long as you did not burn more (with love) for another (woman), nor was Lydia after Chloe (in your affections), I flourished more famously than the Roman Ilia.
HE: The Thracian Chloe now commands me, (she who is) expert in sweet modulations and skilled on the lyre, for whom I shall not fear to die, if the fates shall spare my darling (lit. my life) to survive (me).
SHE: Calais, the son of Ornytus of Thurii, inflames me with a mutual torch, for whom I shall twice endure to die, if the fates shall spare my boy to survive (me).
HE: What if our former love returns, and joins (us), having been led asunder, with a brazen yoke, what if golden-haired Chloe is cast off, and the door opens to slighted Lydia?
SHE: Although he is fairer than a star, and you are more fickle (lit. lighter) than cork and more irascible than the stormy Adriatic, with you I should love to live, and with you I should gladly die.
XXVI. Ancients versus moderns.
In the 'letter' below Horace ridicules the tendency for Romans to value only the writers of the distant past.
"Epistulae" II. i. 18-49, 76-88, 102-117.
But here your people, wise and just in one (point), by preferring you to our own leaders, (and) you to Greek (heroes), by no means estimate other things with like proportion and measure, and disdain and detest (everything) except (those things) which they see removed from the earth, having completed their allotted span. To such an extent (are the people) supporters of ancient things, that they keep saying that the Muses on Mount Alba dictating the (Twelve) Tables forbidding transgression, which the decemviri ratified (i.e. in 451 B.C.), the treaties of our kings, concluded with the Gabii or the hardy Sabines, the books of the pontiffs (and) the ancient rolls of the seers.
If, because all of the most ancient writings of the Greeks are the very best, Roman writers are weighed in the same scale, there is no (reason) that we should say much (more): there is nothing hard inside an olive, there is nothing (hard) in a nut on the outside; we have come to the highest (point) of success (in the arts), we paint and we sing and we wrestle more skilfully than the well-oiled Achaeans (i.e. Greeks). If time makes poems, like wine, better, I should wish to know how many years will lay a claim to value in manuscripts. Ought a writer, who died a hundred years ago, to be reckoned among the perfect and the ancient, or among the mean and modern (writers)? Let some boundary exclude (all) disputes. "He is an old and excellent (writer) who completes a hundred years." (Then) what? Among whom will (he) who died one month or (one) year less (than that) be reckoned? (Among) the old poets or (among those) whom both the present and tomorrow's age will scorn? "At any rate, he may be fairly placed among the ancients who is younger either by (one) short month or by a whole year." I use (what has been) allowed, and, like the hairs of a horse's tail, I gradually pluck and pull away one, and likewise I pull away (another) one, until whosoever has recourse to the annals, and values excellence in years, and admires nothing except what Libitina (i.e. the goddess of funerals) has made sacred, falls (to the ground) baffled, in the manner of a tumbling heap.
I am indignant that anything should be censured, not because it is thought a lumpish or inelegant composition, but because (it has) recently (been written), and that not indulgence, but honour and prizes, be demanded for ancient (works). If I should express (any) doubt (as to whether) a drama of Atta walks in an upright manner through the saffron and flowers( i.e. across the stage), or not, almost all the fathers would cry out that shame had perished, since I should be attempting to criticise those (pieces), which the grave Aesopus, which the skilful Roscius, have acted: either because they consider nothing right except what has pleased themselves, or because they think (it is) disgraceful to submit to their juniors, and to confess in their old age that (those things) which they learned (when) beardless ought (lit. are worthy) to be destroyed. In fact, (the man) who extols Numa's Salian hymn, and wishes to seem the only man to know, (together) with me, what he is ignorant of, he does not favour and applaud buried geniuses, but attacks ours, and, in his spite, hates us and our (works).
At Rome it was for a long time agreeable and customary to be awake early, the house having been opened up, to expound the laws to clients, to pay out money on good security (lit. cautiously) to upright debtors, to listen to their elders, (and) to tell the younger by what means their fortunes might grow and pernicious luxury be diminished. What pleases or is odious which you may not think changeable? The fickle people have changed their mind and glow with a universal zeal for writing: boys and their stern fathers dine, their locks bound with greenery (lit. bound with greenery in respect of their locks), and dictate poems. I myself who affirms that I write no verses, am found to be more untruthful than the Parthians, and, awake before the rising sun, I call for my pen and my papers and my book-cases. (He who is) ignorant of a ship is afraid to sail (lit. drive) a ship; none, except he who has learned, dares to give (even) southernwood to a sick (man); doctors undertake the work of doctors; craftsmen handle the (tools) of a craftsman: we, the unlearned and learned (alike), write indiscriminately.
XXVII. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.
In this famous ode, which includes the famous aphorism "carpe diem" (seize the day!), Horace takes up again his injunction to enjoy life while you can.
"Odes" I. xi. To Leuconoe. Metre: Fifth Asclepiad.
Do you not enquire - (it is) wrong to know - what limit of life the gods have given to me, (and) what to you, Leuconoe, neither try the Babylonian calculations (i.e. astrology). How (much) better (it is) to endure whatever will be, whether Jupiter has granted (us) more winters or (this as) the last (one), which now wears out the the Tyrrhenian sea upon the opposing rocks. Be wise, strain your wines, and cut down distant expectations in accordance with the short span (of your life). While we speak, jealous age will have fled: seize the day, trusting to the morrow as little as possible.
XXVIII. Inevitable death.
Again Horace warns that death cannot be avoided; once again we see that the moral is to take advantage of one's blessings before that moment arrives. This ode includes the renowned quotation "eheu fugaces ... labuntur anni" (Alas, the fleeting years slip away).
"Odes" II. xiv. To Postumus. Metre: Alcaic.
Alas, Postumus, Postumus, the fleeting years slip (away), nor will an upright life bring (any) delay to wrinkles and advancing old age and unconquerable death: (no), my friend, not even should you try to appease him with three hundred bulls for every day (of your life) which passes, (could you placate) pitiless Pluto, who confines the thrice monstrous Geryon and Tityus with the dismal stream (i.e. the Styx), that is, (the stream which) must (lit. is needing to) be sailed across, whoever (we are) who enjoy earth's bounty, whether we shall be kings or poor husbandmen. In vain shall we abstain from blood-thirsty warfare (lit. Mars) and the broken waves of the raucous Adriatic, in vain, in respect of our bodies, shall we fear the harmful South Wind during the autumn (seasons). The black Cocytus, meandering with its sluggish current, and the infamous tribe of Danaus, and Sisyphus, the son of Aeolus, condemned to lengthy toil, must (lit. are needing to) be visited. Your land and your house and your agreeable wife must (lit. are needing to) be left behind, nor shall any of those trees which you are cultivating, except the hateful cypress, follow their short(-lived) master. A worthy heir shall consume your Caecuban (wines), (now) guarded by a hundred keys, and shall stain the pavement with the proud undiluted vintage, more potent than (that served at) the dinners of the pontiffs.
XXIX. Man passes and is seen no more.
In this ode Horace compares the transience of human life to the passing of the seasons.
"Odes" IV. vii. To Torquatus. Metre: Third Archilochean.
The snows have fled, grass now returns to the fields, and foliage to the trees, the earth runs through (lit. alternates) her changes, and the decreasing rivers glide past their banks; a Grace, with the Nymphs and her two sisters, dares to lead the dances naked. The year and the hour which snatches away the kindly day warn that you should not hope for immortality. (Winter's) colds grow mild with the West Winds, summer tramples upon spring, (itself) doomed to perish as soon as fruit-bearing autumn shall have shed its fruits, and soon winter returns in its sluggishness. Yet the swift moons repair the wastage of the sky: when we have descended (to those regions) where father Aeneas, where rich Tullus and Ancus (have gone before us), we are (but) dust and shadow. Who knows whether the gods above will add tomorrow's hours to today's total? Everything which you will have given to your dear self (lit. soul) will escape the greedy hands of your heir. When once you shall be dead, and Minos will have made his resplendent judgments about you, Torquatus, not your birth, not your eloquence, not your piety, shall restore you: for neither can Diana free the chaste Hippolytus from infernal darkness, nor is Theseus able to break off the Lethaean chains from his dear Pirithous.
XXX. L'Envoi.
On the publication of his third book of "Odes" in 23 B.C. Horace claims that his poems will be a more lasting memorial of him than a bronze tomb.
"Odes" III. xxx. On his own work. Metre: First Asclepiad.
I have completed a monument (lit. tombstone) more lasting than bronze (and) loftier than the royal site of the pyramids, such as neither a biting storm nor a violent North Wind, or a countless succession of years and flight of ages can demolish. I shall not all die, and a great part of me will cheat Libitina (i.e. the goddess of funerals). I shall grow ever fresh in the praise of posterity, as long as the pontiff shall climb the Capitol with the silent (Vestal) virgin. I shall be spoken of where the Aufidus (i.e. the river of Apulia which runs through Venusia, Horace's birthplace) roars in fury, and where Daunus (i.e. legendary king of Apulia), poor in water, ruled over rustic people, (as one who) rising from a humble (estate) (was) the first to have conducted Aeolian (i.e. the metres of Alcaeus and Sappho) song to Italian measures. Take the pride (of place) won by your deserts, Melpomene (i.e. the Muse of Tragedy), and kindly garland my locks with Delphic laurel.
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