| ODES - I.22 | TO SALLY |
| Horace (Q. Horatius Flaccus) | trans. John Quincey Adams |
|
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 in righteousness arrayed, A pure and blameless liver, Needs not the keen Toledo blade, Nor venom-freighted quiver. What though he wind his toilsome way O'er regions wild and weary - Through Zara's burning desert stray, Or Asia's jungles dreary: What though he plow the billowy deep By lunar light, or solar, Meet the resistless Simoon's sweep, Or iceberg circumpolar! In bog or quagmire deep and dank His foot shall never settle; He mounts the summit of Mont Blanc, Or Popocatapetl. On Chimborazo's breathless height He treads o'er burning lava; Or snuffs the Bohan Upas blight, The deathful plant of Java. Through every peril he shall pass, By Virtue's shield protected; And still by Truth's unerring glass His path shall be directed. Else wherefore was it, Thursday last, While strolling down the valley, Defenseless, musing as I passed A canzonet to Sally, A wolf, with mouth-protruding snout, Forth from the thicket bounded - I clapped my hands and raised a shout - He heard - and fled - confounded. Tangier nor Tunis never bred An animal more crabbèd; Nor Fez, dry-nurse of lions, fed A monster half so rabid; Nor Ararat so fierce a beast Has seen since days of Noah; Nor stronger, eager for a feast, The fell constrictor boa. Oh! place me where the solar beam Has scorch'd all verdure vernal; Or on the polar verge extreme, Block'd up with ice eternal - Still shall my voice's tender lays Of love remain unbroken; And still my charming Sally praise, Sweet smiling and sweet spoken. |
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