| ODES - I.22 | THE MAN OF LIFE UPRIGHT ... |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | trans. Thomas Campion |
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Integer uitae scelerisque purus non eget Mauris laculis neque arcu nec uenenatis grauida sagittis, Fusce, pharetra, siue per Syrtis iter aestuosas siue facturus per inhospitalem Caucasum uel quae loca fabulosus lambit Hydaspes. Namque me silua lupus in Sabina, dum meam canto Lalagem et ultra terminum curis uagor expeditis, fugit inermem, quale portentum neque militaris Daunias latis alit aesculetis nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum arida nutrix. Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis arbor aestiua recreatur aura, quod latus mundi nebulae malusque Iuppiter urget; pone sub curru nimium propinqui solis in terra domibus negata: dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, dulce loquentem. |
The man of life upright, Whose guiltless heart is free From all dishonest deeds, Or thought of vanity; The man whose silent days In harmless joys are spent, Whom hopes cannot delude, Nor sorrow discontent; That man needs neither towers Nor armour for defence, Nor secret vaults to fly From thunder's violence: He only can behold With unaffrighted eyes The horrors of the deep And terrors of the skies. Thus, scorning all the cares That fate or fortune brings, He makes the heaven his book, His wisdom heavenly things; Good thoughts his only friends, His wealth a well-spent age, The earth his sober inn And quiet pilgrimage. |
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