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Liber XV.

ODE II.

AD ANTONIUM IULUM.

Laudat Pindarum.

PINDARUM quisquis studet æmulari,

Iule, ceratis ope Dædaleâ

Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus

Nomina ponto.

Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres

Quem super notas aluere ripas,

Fervet, immensusque ruit profundo

Pindarus ore;

Laureâ donandus Apollinari,

Seu per audaces nova dithyrambos
Verba devolvit, numerisque fertur
Lege solutis :

Seu Deos, Regesque canit Deorum
Sanguinem; per quos cecidere justâ
Morte Centauri, cecidit tremendæ

Flamma Chimæræ :

Book IV.

ODE II.

TO ANTONIUS IULUS.

He who would rival Pindar's fame,

Like Icarus, himself would maim,

And to some sea would give his name—

A mark for fools.

As mountain-stream, much swoll'n with rains, Gushes with rage o'er all the plains,

So Pindar's lofty genius reigns

O'er art's dull rules!

Poetic child! the Muse his nurse

Whether in dithyrambic verse,

Or feet more daring, he rehearse

His towering strain :

Whether of gods the poet sings,

Or (sprung from gods) those hero-kings,

Who slew earth's monsters, arm'd with stings

Fram'd for hot pain:

Sive quos Elea domum reducit
Palma cœlestes, pugilemve equumve
Dicit, et centum potiore signis

Munere donat:

Flebili sponsæ juvenemve raptum
Plorat, et vires animumque moresque
Aureos deducit in astra, nigroque

Invidet Orco.

Multa Dircæum levat aura cycnum,
Tendit, Antoni, quoties in altos

Nubium tractus. Ego apis Matinæ
More modoque

Grata carpentis thyma per laborem

Plurimum, circa nemus uvidique

Tiburis ripas', operosa parvus

Carmina fingo.

Concines majore poeta plectro
Cæsarem, quandoque trahet feroces

Per sacrum clivum, meritâ decorus

Fronde, Sicambros:

Quo nihil majus meliusve terris

Fata donavere bonique Divi,

Nec dabunt, quamvis redeant in aurum

Tempora priscum.

It appears that Tibur possessed a shady grove: hence

Horace says (book i. ode 7)

Or, the proud victor he commends,-
E'en him, who home from Elis wends,
Horseman or steed,-to each he lends
Immortal fame :

Or, youth deplores-just snatch'd away
From loving bride, in joy's proud day,—
He saves his memory from decay,

And virtuous name.

When the Dircean swan would sail,
He floats, majestic, on the gale,

Till highest clouds, Antonius, hail

His near approach:

But I-like some industrious bee

Which hunts with care each flowery lea'Neath Tibur's shady canopy

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My verses broach.

You sing, in poet's loftiest strain,
The triumphs of Augustus' reign;

When the Sicambri o'er the plain

In bonds were led :

Cæsar, excell'd by none of yore ;—

Boon worth what heaven has yet in store,—

E'en though the golden age once more

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Its bliss should shed!

seu densa tenebit

Tiburis umbra tui."

Concines lætosque dies, et urbis
Publicum ludum, super impetrato
Fortis Augusti reditu, forumque

Litibus orbum.

Tum meæ (si quid loquar audiendum) Vocis accedet bona pars: et, o Sol Pulcher, o laudande, canam, recepto Cæsare felix.

Tuque dum procedis, Io triumphe,
Non semel dicemus, Io triumphe,
Civitas omnis, dabimusque Divis
Thura benignis.

Te decem tauri totidemque vaccæ,
Me tener solvet vitulus relictâ
Matre, qui largis juvenescit herbis

In mea vota;

Fronte curvatos imitatus ignes
Tertium Lunæ referentis ortum,
Quà notam duxit, niveus videri,
Cetera fulvus.

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