Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) trans. William Ewart Gladstone
Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi

finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios

tentaris numeros. ut melius, quidquid erit, pati!

seu plures hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,

quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare

Tyrrhenum, sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi

spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida

aetas: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.
Oh ask thou not, 't is sin to know,
what time to me, to thee
The gods allot: Chaldean tricks
eschew, LeuconoŽ.
How better far to face our fate;
be other winters yet
Ordained for us by Jove, or this
the last, now sternly set
To weary out by fronting rocks
the angry Tuscan main.
True wisdom learn. Decant the wine.
Far-reaching schemes restrain.
Our time is brief. The niggard hour
in chatting, ebbs away;
Trust nothing for to-morrow's sun:
make harvest of today.

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