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Noxious days of dog-star flagrant
Mid noble fountains, moreover,
Written on the return of Augustus after closing the Cantabrian War.
His return had been delayed by illness at Terracina.
CAESAR, of late declared by you, O people,
Let the wife, then, to him alone devoted,
Mothers of virgins, and of youths in safety
Words of ill omen.
Te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae Nescit tangere: tu frigus amabile Fessis vomere tauris
Praebes, et pecori vago.
Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium, Me dicente cavis impositam ilicem Saxis : unde loquaces
Lymphae desiliunt tuae.
XIV. AD ROMANOS.
HERCULIS ritu modo dictus, o plebs, Morte venalem petiisse laurum, Caesar Hispana repetit penates
Victor ab ora.
Unico gaudens mulier marito,
Virginum matres, juvenumque nuper Sospitum : vos o pueri, et puellae Jam virum expertae, male ominatis
This, to myself true festal day, shall banish
Is the world's master.
Go, boy, and seek for perfumes and for garlands,
Bid, too, melodious Neaera hasten
Come away quickly.
Whitening hairs the froward temper soften,
Plancus was consul.
Horace here appears in one of his least creditable moods, though one
in which he was rather fond of indulging.
WIFE, you, of needy Ibycus,
To your iniquities and habits infamous Put now at length a tardy end.
Since into timely grave full soon you must descend,
Hic dies vere mihi festus atras
I pete unguentum, puer, et coronas, Et cadum Marsi memorem duelli; Spartacum si qua potuit vagantem
Dic et argutae properet Neaerae
Lenit albescens animos capillus Litium et rixae cupidos protervae. Non ego hoc ferrem, calidus juventa,
XV. AD CHLORIM.
Uxor pauperis Ibyci,
Tandem nequitiae fige modum tuae Famosisque laboribus :
Maturo propior desine funeri
Cease sporting among girls, nor shroud
The stars' white brilliancy with intermingled cloud; Not what accords with Pholoë quite,
Suits, Chloris, likewise you: your daughter, more of right, Takes by assault the young men's home
Like Bacchanalian aroused by beaten drum. The love of Nothus makes of her
To wanton female goat a rival caperer. You, wool to spin, old lady, suits,
Shorn on Luceria's famed pasture ground: not lutes, Not blooms that damask rose-bush prank,
Not jars of liquor down to dregs residual drank.
The poet here dwells upon his favourite theme, contentment and
moderation, which he is able to illustrate by the example of Maecenas as well as his own.
A BRAZEN tower, oak doors, and sentinel