Animula, vagula, blandula;
Hospes, comesque corporis!
Quo nunc abibis in loco
Pallidula, rigida, nudula?
Nec ut soles dabis jocos.
Translation.
Little rambling, coaxing sprite,
Tenant and comrade of this clay,
Into what distant regions say
Pale, naked, cold, wingst thou thy flight?
Nor wilt thou joke as wont in former day.
* * * * *
Lib. 1. Ode xxxv. AD FORTUNAM.
O Diva, gratum quæ regis Antium,
Præsens vel imo tollere de gradu
Mortale corpus, vel superbos
Vertere funeribus triumphos:
Te pauper ambit solicitâ prece
Ruris colonus; te dominam æquoris,
Quicunque Bithynâ lacessit
Carpathium pelagus carinâ.
Te Dacus asper, te profugi Scythæ,
Urbesque, gentesque, et Latium ferox,
Regumque matres barbarorum, et
Purpurei metuunt tyranni,
Injurioso ne pede proruas
Stantem columnam; neu populos frequens
Ad arma cessantes ad arma
Concitet, imperiumque frangat.
Te semper anteit sæva Necessitas,
Clavos trabales et cuneos manu
Gestans ahenâ; nec severus
Uncus abest, liquidumque plumbum.
Te Spes, et albo rara Fides colit
Velata panno, nec comitem abnegat,
Utcunque mutatâ potentes
Veste domos inimica linquis.
At vulgus infidum, et meretrix retro
Perjura cedit: diffugiunt cadis
Cum fæce siccatis amici,
Ferre jugum pariter dolosi.
Serves iturum Cæsarem in ultimos
Orbis Britannos, et juvenum recens
Examen Eois timendum
Partibus, Oceanoque Rubro.
Eheu! cicatricum et sceleris pudet,
Fratrumque: quid nos dura refugimus
Ætas? quid intactum nefasti
Liquimus? unde manum juventus
Metu Deorum continuit? quibus
Pepercit aris? O! utinam novâ
Incude diffingas retusum in
Massagetas Arabasque ferrum.
Translation. TO FORTUNE.
Goddess whose mandate lovely Antium sways,
Prompt at thy will from humblest grade to raise
Weak mortals, or proud triumphs turn
To the sad funeral urn!
Thee the poor rustic sues with anxious prayer:
Thee, Arbitress of Ocean all revere,
Who with Bithynian keel adventurous brave
The rough Carpathian wave.
Thee wandering Scythians, thee the Dacian boor
Cities and nations, Latium fierce adore:
Mothers of barbarous kings grow pale,
Tyrants in purple quail
Lest with insulting foot thou spurn their proud,
Unshaken column: lest th' assembled crowd
Laggards to arms, to arms should wake,
And their dominion break.
Ruthless Necessity before thy band
Forever walks: in her resistless hand
Wedges and spikes: the hook severe
And molten lead still near.
Thee Hope attends, and spotless Faith so rare,
Robed in pure white: nor then departs whene'er,
With vestments changed and hostile lower,
Thou leav'st th' abodes of power.
But shrink the faithless herd and perjured quean:
Friends too skulk off, the casks drained dry, unseen:
Too treacherous equally to brook
Adversity's hard yoke.
Guard Cæsar bound 'gainst Britain's distant land,
Limit of earth--preserve the new-formed band
Of Youths, by Eastern realms to be
Feared, and by the Red Sea!
Alas! I blush for public crimes and rage;
For brothers too: what have we, hardened age,
Eschewed? what vice untried disdained?
When have our youth restrained
Their hands through fear of Heav'n? what altars spared?
Grant to reforge, on anvil new-prepared,
From civil strife our blunted swords,
'Gainst Scythian and Arabian hordes!
* * * * *
Lib. 3. Ode iii.
Justum, et tenacem propositi virum
Non civium ardor prava jubentium,
Non vultus instantis tyranni
Mente quatit solidâ, neque Auster,
Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,
Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus:
Si fractus illabatur orbis,
Impavidum ferient ruinæ.
Hâc arte Pollux, et vagus Hercules
Innixus, arces attigit igneas:
Quos inter Augustus recumbens
Purpureo bibit ore nectar.
Hâc te merentem, Bacche pater, tuæ
Vexêre tigres, indocili jugum
Collo trahentes: hâc Quirinus
Martis equis Acheronta fugit.
Translation.
The upright man tenacious of design,
Nor civil rage commanding acts malign,
Nor tyrant's frown,[1] in fierce career,
Shakes in his firm resolve with fear:
Nor Auster, restless Adria's stormy king,
Nor Jove's strong hand upraised the bolt to wing.
Should Heaven's burst vault sink on his head
The wreck would strike him undismayed.
Pollux, and wandering Hercules, sustained
By arts like these, the starry summits gained,
Mid whom reclining Cæsar sips
Rich nectar with empurpled lips;
Thee, Bacchus, thus deserving virtue's prize
With yoke on neck indocile to the skies
Thy tigers bore--thus Rhea's son
On steeds of Mars 'scaped Acheron.
[Footnote 1: _Glance_ would perhaps be more expressive. Translator.]
* * * * *
Lib. 2. Ode xvi. AD GROSPHUM.
Otium Divos rogat in patenti
Prensus Ægoeo, simul atra nubes
Condidit Lunam, neque certa fulgent
Sidera nautis;
Otium bello furiosa Thrace,
Otium Medi pharetrâ decori,
Grosphe, non gemmis, neque purpura ve-
nale, nec auro.
Non enim gazæ, neque consularis
Summovet lictor miseros tumultus
Mentis, et curas laqueata circum
Tecta volantes.
Vivitur parvo bene, cui paternum
Splendet in mensâ tenui salinum;
Nec leves somnos timor aut Cupido
Sordidus aufert.
Quid brevi fortes jaculamur oevo
Multa? quid terras alio calentes
Sole mutamus? patriæ quis exul
Se quoque fugit?
Scandit æratas vitiosa naves
Cura; nec turmas equitum relinquit,
Ocior cervis, et agente nimbos
Ocior Euro.
Loetus in præsens animus, quod ultra est
Oderit curare, et amara lento
Temperet risu. Nihil est ab omni
Parte beatum.
Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem:
Longa Tithonum minuit senectus:
Et mihi forsan, tibi quod negârit,
Porriget hora.
Te greges centum, Siculæque circum
Mugiunt vaccoe; tibi tollit hinnitum
Apta quadrigis equa: te bis Afro
Murice tinctæ
Vestiunt lanoe: mihi parva rura, et
Spiritum Graioe tenuem Camenoe
Parca non mendax dedit, et malignum
Spernere Vulgus.
Translation. TO GROSPHUS.
For ease, to Heaven the seaman prays,
Caught in the wide Ægean seas
When black clouds wrap the sky,
Nor moon nor well known star to guide
His barque along the treacherous tide,
Shines to his practised eye.
For ease the Thracian fierce in fight
And Parthian graced with quiver light,
To Heaven incessant sigh.
Ease, which nor gold, nor gems can buy,
Nor robes of Tyria's costly dye.
For wealth or power can quell
No wretched tumults of the breast,
Nor cares, aye fluttering without rest,
Round sculptured domes, dispel.
Well does he live in humble state,
Whose father's salt-stand--his sole plate,
Shines on his frugal board.
Nor fears to lose disturb his rest,
Nor sordid avarice goads his breast
To gain a useless hoard.
Why daring aim beyond our span,
Through distant years at many a plan
When life so brief we find?
Why long 'neath other suns to roam?
What exile from his native home
Has left himself behind?
Fell care ascends the brazen poop,
Nor yet forsakes the horseman's troop,
Outstrips the stag and wind.
Pleased with the present--ills beyond,
The man who loves not to despond,
To trace will wisely shun:
And when they come with tempering smile
The bitter of his cup beguile
Or sweeten ere 'tis done.
In youth the great Peleides sunk,
With tardy age Tithonus shrunk,
For nought is wholly blest.
So time perhaps extends for me
The hour he still denies to thee,
Of choicest gifts possest.
Thee--numerous flocks and herds surround,
Thy neighing coursers paw the ground,
For princely chariot meet.
Rich fleeces steeped in murex bright
Invest thy limbs with purple light
And flow around thy feet.
To me content, veracious heaven
A little farm to till has given
In independence proud,
A gentle breath of Grecian muse
Its airy visions to infuse
And scorn the envious crowd.