Hostile aratrum exercitus insolens. Compesce mentem: me quoque pectoris Tentavit in dulci juventa Fervor, et in celeres iambos Misit furentem; nunc ego mitibus Opprobriis, animumque reddas. ODE XVII. INVITATION TO TYNDARIS. It is impossible to do more than conjecture whether the person addressed under the feigned name of Tyndaris actually existed or not. There are one or two touches in the poem which seem to individualise her as a creature of the earth-such as the selection of one particular song about the rivalry of Penelope and Circe, which is not a theme especially appropriate to the place of invitation, and may well have been the favourite song of some fair lute-player; and For Lucretilis oft nimble Faunus exchanges, Rainy winds and the scorch of the sun. the All in safety the waves of the strong-scented husband Whilesoever, my Tyndaris, round and about us With the sweet haunting pipe of the god. Over me watch the gods with an aspect of favour, From a brimmed cornucopia to thee. the reference to the jealous violence of Cyrus looks like an allusion to some incident that had previously occurred. On the one hand, nothing is more likely than that Horace should have known, and invited to his villa, some such accomplished freed-woman as is here addressed. On the other hand, nothing is more consonant to his exquisite art than the invention of attributes and incidents for the purpose of giving the interest of reality to a purely imaginary creation. A compliment to the beauty of the person addressed is insinuated by the name of Tyndaris, 'as if,' says Orelli, 'she were another Helen.' CARM. XVII. Velox amonum sæpe Lucretilem Usque meis pluviosque ventos. Impune tutum per nemus arbutos Nec virides metuunt colubras, Nec Martiales Hædiliæ lupos, Di me tuentur, dis pietas mea Ruris honorum opulenta cornu. F Here, within the deep vale, thou shalt shun the red dog-star, Crystal Circe, for one human heart; Safely here shalt thou quaff, under cool leafy shadows, Shall with Mars his encounters confound; Dread not here lest pert Cyrus, suspecting thee vilely, Lay rash hands on that form not a match for rude anger, Rend the garland which clings to thy hair, Or the robe-which deserves no such wrong. 1 Bacchus. Hic in reducta valle Caniculæ Vitabis æstus, et fide Teïa Dices laborantes in uno Penelopen vitreamque Circen ; Hic innocentis pocula Lesbi Suspecta Cyrum, ne male dispari Et scindat hærentem coronam |