Odes by Horace

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THE ODES AND CARMEN SAECULARE OF HORACE

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LAUDABUNT ALII.


Let
others Rhodes or Mytilene sing, Or Ephesus, or Corinth, set between
Two
seas, or Thebes, or Delphi, for its king Each famous, or Thessalian Tempe green;

There are who make chaste Pallas' virgin tower

The daily burden of unending song,

And
search for wreaths the olive's rifled bower; The praise of Juno sounds from many a tongue,

Telling of Argos' steeds, Mycenaes's gold.

For me stern Sparta forges no such spell,

No,
nor Larissa's plain of richest mould, As bright Albunea echoing from her cell.

O headlong Anio! O Tiburnian groves,

And orchards saturate with shifting streams!

Look how the clear fresh south from heaven removes

The tempest, nor with rain perpetual teems!

You
too be wise, my Plancus: life's worst cloud Will melt in air, by mellow wine allay'd,

Dwell you in camps, with glittering banners proud,

Or 'neath your Tibur's canopy of shade.

When Teucer fled before his father's frown

From Salamis, they say his temples deep

He dipp'd in wine, then wreath'd with poplar crown,

And bade his comrades lay their grief to sleep:

"Where Fortune bears us, than my sire more kind,

There let us go, my own, my gallant crew.

'Tis Teucer leads, 'tis Teucer breathes the wind;

No more despair; Apollo's word is true.

Another Salamis in kindlier air

Shall yet arise. Hearts, that have borne with me

Worse buffets! drown to-day in wine your care;

To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea!"





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