| ODES - IV.12 | ODES - IV.12 |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | trans. John Conington |
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Iam veris comites, quae mare temperant, impellunt animae lintea Thraciae; iam nec prata rigent nec fluvii strepunt .....hiberna nive turgidi. nidum ponit Ityn flebiliter gemens infelix avis et Cecropiae domus aeternum opprobrium, quod male barbaras .....regum est ulta libidines. dicunt in tenero gramine pinguium custodes ovium carmina fistula delectantque deum cui pecus et nigri .....colles Arcadiae placent. adduxere sitim tempora, Vergili: sed pressum Calibus ducere Liberum si gestis, iuvenum nobilium cliens, .....nardo vina merebere. nardi parvus onyx eliciet cadum, qui nunc Sulpiciis accubat horreis, spes donare novas largus amaraque .....curarum eluere efficax. ad quae si properas gaudia, cum tua velox merce veni: non ego te meis immunem meditor tingere poculis, .....plena dives ut in domo. verum pone moras et studium lucri, nigrorumque memor, dum licet, ignium misce stultitiam consiliis brevem: .....dulce est desipere in loco. |
The gales of Thrace, that hush the unquiet sea, .....Spring's comrades, on the bellying canvas blow: Clogg'd earth and brawling streams alike are free .....From winter's weight of snow. Wailing her Itys in that sad, sad strain, .....Builds the poor bird, reproach to after time Of Cecrops' house, for bloody vengeance ta'en .....On foul barbaric crime. The keepers of fat lambkins chant their loves .....To silvan reeds, all in the grassy lea, And pleasure Him who tends the flocks and groves .....Of dark-leaved Arcady. It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine: .....But would you taste the grape's Calenian juice, Client of noble youths, to earn your wine .....Some nard you must produce. A tiny box of nard shall bring to light .....The cask that in Sulpician cellar lies: O, it can give new hopes, so fresh and bright, .....And gladden gloomy eyes. You take the bait? then come without delay .....And bring your ware: be sure, 'tis not my plan To let you drain my liquor and not pay, .....As might some wealthy man. Come, quit those covetous thoughts, those knitted brows, .....Think on the last black embers, while you may, And be for once unwise. When time allows, .....'Tis sweet the fool to play. |
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