Misfortunes round thee closing
With gallant heart confront;
With fortitude opposing,
Sustain their fiercest brunt.
When favouring wind excelling
In strength becomes a gale,
Regard your canvas swelling,
And wisely shorten sail.

'Minorem' in line II is translated 'drudge' in deference to Mr. Macleane, who says that the word, like oσwv, signifies the victim of' or a slave to.' I don't think I need apologise for coining the word 'nardine' used in line 16. If an ointment made from nard were now-a-days in use, that would certainly be the name which English perfumers would give it.

LEAVE asking, my Quintius Hirpinus, what 'tis
That the warlike Cantabrian meditates, or
The Scyths, interposed between us and whom is
The Adrian and be not solicitous for

The requirements of life, which but little requires.
Our youth and good looks lightly off from us sweep,
And sapless old age baffles wanton desires,

And drives away also our once ready sleep.

Spring blossoms not always retain the same hue:
With one visage not always the vivid moon shines:
Why weary your soul with such constant ado,
And make it the drudge of ne'er-ending designs?

Rebus angustis animosus atque

Fortis appare: sapienter idem

Contrahes vento nimium secundo
Turgida vela.

XI. AD QUINTIUM HIRPINUM..

QUID bellicosus Cantaber et Scythes,
Hirpine Quinti, cogitet, Hadria

Divisus objecto, remittas

Quaerere; nec trepides in usum

Poscentis aevi pauca. Fugit retro
Levis juventas et decor, arida.
Pellente lascivos amores

Canitie, facilemque somnum.

Non semper idem floribus est honor
Vernis, neque uno Luna rubens nitet
Voltu: quid aeternis minorem
Consiliis animum fatigas?

I

Why not, lying carelessly, even as now,
Whether under tall plane-tree or under this pine,
With roses perfuming our tresses of snow,

And anointing ourselves with Assyrian nardine,

Why not drink while we may? no disperser like liquor
Of cankering care. Which boy there will chill
These goblets of fiery Falernian quicker,

Immersing them under yon running stream's rill?

Which will lure from home Lyde, that naughty recluse? Away bid her come with her ivory lute,

And make haste, and not mind though her hair be all loose: A plain knot, Spartan fashion, will very well suit.

Licymnia is supposed to be another name for Terentia, the beautiful wife of Maecenas.

To my cithern's soft music desire not of me,
That I set the long tale of Numantia's fierce war;
Or of Annibal dire, or Sicilian sea

Empurpled with dark Carthaginian gore:

Or of Lapithae cruel, or over-indulgent

Hylaeus in wine, or those youths whom the might.
Of Alcides subdued, that earth-brood who the fulgent
Abode of old Saturn o'erwhelmed with affright.
Thee, rather, in sober historical strains

Of narrating, Maecenas, the office befits,

Caesar's battles, and menacing monarchs in chains Triumphantly dragged by the neck through our streets.

Cur non sub alta vel platano vel hac
Pinu jacentes sic temere, et rosa
Canos odorati capillos,

Dum licet, Assyriaque nardo

Potamus uncti? Dissipat Euius
Curas edaces. Quis puer ocius
Restinguet ardentis Falerni

Pocula praetereunte lympha?

Quis devium scortum eliciet domo
Lyden? Eburna, dic age, cum lyra
Maturet, in comptum Lacaenae
More comas religata nodum.

XII. AD MAECENATEM.

NOLIS longa ferae bella Numantiae,
Nec dirum Hannibalem, nec Siculum mare
Poeno purpureum sanguine, mollibus.
Aptari citharae modis;

Nec saevos Lapithas, et nimium mero
Hylaeum, domitosque Herculea manu

Telluris juvenes, unde periculum
Fulgens contremuit domus.
Saturni veteris. Tuque pedestribus
Dices historiis proelia Caesaris,
Maecenas, me ius, ductaque per vias
Regum colla minacium.

Me, the gentle Muse bids that I take as my theme
My lady Licymnia: bids me approve

Her eyes that with fulgent lucidity stream,
Her bosom responsive to mutual love.

To bear step in the dance is to her no disgrace,
Nor in contest of wit to take part, or in play
Wherein hers with the arms of fair maidens enlace
On far-famed Diana's high festival day.
One hair of Licymnia's would you exchange
For all rich Achaemenes ever possess'd,

All Mygdonian wealth within Phrygian range,

All the full magazines with which Arabs are bless'd?
While her neck, to the feverish kisses you lavish,
She bends; or, with witching austereness, denies
What she gladlier would that the asker should ravish,
And in ravishing which she herself at times vies.

Horace seems to have been deeply impressed by his escape from a falling tree. He repeatedly alludes to it.

BOTH evil day was that, O tree, when first,
Whoe'er 'twas, planted thee; and hand accurst
That reared our hamlet's shame in thee,
And mischief to posterity.

That he his father strangled I must still
Believe, and that his inner domicile

He with guest's blood at night bespattered.
He Colchian poisons must have catered,