| ODES - I.5 | TO PYRRHA |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | trans. John Milton |
|
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa perfusus liquidis urget odoribus grato, Pyrrha, sub antro? cul flauam religas comam, simplex munditiis? Heu quotiens fidem mutatosque deos flebit et aspera nigris aequora uentis emirabitur insolens, qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea, qui semper uacuam, semper amabilem sperat, nescius aurae fallacis. Miseri, quibus intemptata nites. Me tabula sacer uotiua paries indicat uuida suspendisse potenti uestimenta maris deo. |
What slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours, Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness? O how oft shall he Of faith and changed gods complain, and seas Rough with black winds, and storms Unwonted shall admire! Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, Who, always vacant, always amiable Hopes thee, of flattering gales Unmindful. Hapless they To whom thou untried seem'st fair. Me, in my vow'd Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung, My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea. |
Click here 3 for another translation of this poem.