Handy Literal Translations
TRANSLATED LITERALLY INTO ENGLISH PROSE
Of Pembroke College, Cambridge
A NEW EDITION
REVISED BY
Theodore Alois Buckley B.A. Of Christ Church
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE.
THE BOOK OF THE EPODES OF HORACE.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE EPISTLES OF HORACE.
HORACE'S BOOK UPON THE ART OF POETRY.
ODE I.
TO MAECENAS.
Maecenas, descended from royal ancestors, O both my protection and mydarling honor! There are those whom it delights to have collectedOlympic dust in the chariot race; and [whom] the goal nicely avoided bythe glowing wheels, and the noble palm, exalts, lords of the earth, tothe gods.
This man, if a crowd of the capricious Quirites strive to raise him tothe highest dignities; another, if he has stored up in his own granarywhatsoever is swept from the Libyan thrashing floors: him who delightsto cut with the hoe his patrimonial fields, you could never tempt, forall the wealth of Attalus, [to become] a timorous sailor and cross theMyrtoan sea in a Cyprian bark. The merchant, dreading the south-westwind contending with the Icarian waves, commends tranquility and therural retirement of his village; but soon after, incapable of beingtaught to bear poverty, he refits his shattered vessel. There isanother, who despises not cups of old Massic, taking a part from theentire day, one while stretched under the green arbute, another at theplacid head of some sacred stream.
The camp, and the sound of the trumpet mingled with that of the clarion,and wars detested by mothers, rejoice many.
The huntsman, unmindful of his tender spouse, remains in the cold air,whether a hart is held in view by his faithful hounds, or a Marsian boarhas broken the fine-wrought toils.
Ivy, the reward of learned brows, equals me with the gods above: thecool grove, and the light dances of nymphs and satyrs, distinguish mefrom the crowd; if neither Euterpe withholds her pipe, nor Polyhymniadisdains to tune the Lesbian lyre. But, if you rank me among the lyricpoets, I shall tower to the stars with my exalted head.
ODE II.
TO AUGUSTUS CAESAR
Enough of snow and dreadful hail has the Sire now sent upon the earth,and having hurled [his thunderbolts] with his red right hand against thesacred towers, he has terrified the city; he has terr