Horace. The best of lyrick poets. Containing much morality, and sweetnesse. Together with Aulus Persius Flaccus, his satyres. Translated into English by Barten Holyday sometime student of Christ-Church in Oxford.

ODES OF HORACE.

The Second Booke.

Ode. II. To C. SALUSTIUS CHRISPUS. Hee prayseth Proculejus for liberalitie towards his brothers. Onely contempt of money maketh a man happie.

Nullus Argento color.

NO colour is in Golden vaine, (Oh Salust, enemy of gaine) Hidden within a greedie Mine, Unlesse with temperate use it shine. Never shall Proculcjus die, Mongst Brothers mark'd for pietie: Surviving Fame with daring flight, Shall yeeld his name eternall right. In larger circuit thou dost raigne, If greedy humour thou restraine. Then if thou Gades to Lybia joyne, Or both the Carthages were thine.

The selfe-indulgent Dropsie growes, Nor doth the palates thirst unlose, Till man from vaines, the sicknesse cause, And pallid watry faintnesse drawes. Vertue, that vulgar doth oppose, Not in the ranke of happy, chose Phraat with Cyrus throne indude. And doth forbid the multitude False acclamations to make; And rule, and Seepter safe partake, And Bayes to him alone apply, Who viewes huge heapes with carelesse eye.

Ode III. TO DELIUS. Prosperous, and adverse Fortune are to be moderate∣ly borne, since one, and the selfe same condition of death, hangeth over every man.

Aequam memento.

IN adverse chaunce, an equall mind retain, As in best fortunes tempred, free from vaine Of mirth profuse: For (Delius) thou must dy. Whither in sadnesse, thou doest ever ly; Or, on Feast dayes retyrd to grassie shade, Thou with close Falerne wine art happy made: Where the white Poplar, and the loftie Pine, Their friendly shade in mutuall branches twine: And Rivers swiftly gliding strive, apace Bout chrooked bankes, their trembling streames to chase.

Bring hither Wine, and od'rous Unguents. Bring The dainty Rose, a faire, but sading thing. While Fortune, age, and wealth yeeld seasons sit: And the three Sisters sable loomes permit: Thou from thy house must part, and purchasd woods, And village lav'd, with yellow Tybers floods. And thy high hoarded heaps of wealths accesse. An Heire (perhaps) ungratefull shall possesse. No matter tis, whether thou rich art borne, Of Argive Kings; or low, exposd to scorne, Sprung from poore Parents, liv'st in open fields; Thou art Deaths sacrifice, (who never yeelds, We all are thither brought, 'tis he that turnes, And winds our mortall lif's unceraine Urnes. Sooner or later each man hath his lot, And exild hence, embarques in Charous Boat.

Ode IX. TO VALOIUS. That now or length he would desist, to deplore his deceased Myste.

Non semper imbres.

The swelling cloud, not alwayes powers, On rugged fields impetuos showres. Nor Caspian Sea (Valgius belov'd) With tossing stormes is ever mov'd. Nor on Armenia's bord'ring shore, The sluggish ice stands all waies hore: Or Gargan groves, with North-winds riv'd, Or Ash-trees are of leaves deprivd.

You still in mournfull sort complaine That death, hath dearest Myste slaine. Your love not failes, if Vesper rise, Nor when bright Hesper, Phoebus flies. But thrice-ag'd Nestor, mournd not still, That death Antilochus did kill: Nor Parents; nor sad Sisters, ever To waile young Troilus persever. Cease then at length, thy soft complaine; And in our Songs, now let us paint, Grat Coesars Trophics, and command, And how conjoynd to conquerd land, The Median streame, and Nyphate strong, Doe in lesse Channels, runne along; And Gelons to lesse limits tyde, In farre more straightned fields do ride.

Ode X. TO LICINIUS. Mediocritie to be used in either Fortunes.

Rectius vives Licini.

YOur safer course (Licin ius) count, Not alwayes on the Maine to mount: Nor whilst you (wisely) stormes abhorre, Too much to trust the shelfie shore: Hee that affects the golden meane, Lives safe from Cottages uncleane, And (sober) doth as much dispise, In envy-breeding Courts doe rise.

The blustring windes more often farre, Gainst loftie Pines do threaten warre: Brave Towers with greater ruine fall, And Thunder highest hills enthrall: Each Fortune, minds prepar'd doth glad, They feare in good, and hope in bad. Jove brings in horrid Winters rage, And sodainly doth it asswage. If with thee now, it bee but ill, Thinke that it cannot be so still. Sometimes Appollos silent Muse, Speakes in His Harpe; nor doth he use, Alwayes to bend his angry Bow; In crosses strength, and courage show. And let your sayles with prosperous wind Too much advanced, be declin'd.

Ode XI. TO QUINTUS HIRPINUS. Cares layd aside, let us live merily.

Quid bellicos Cantaber.

VVHat the Cantabrian stout, or Scythian thinke: Divided with opposed Adria's brinke, (Quintus Herpinus) doe not thou enquire, Nor for lif••s use, which little doth desire, Beo thou too carefull. Smooth-fac'd youth, apace Doth bacward flie, and with it beautie's grace. Dry aged hoarinesse with furrowes deepe, Dispelling amerous fires, and gentle sleepe. The Summer flowers keepe not their native grace, Nor shines the bright Moone with a constant face.

Why dost thou tire thy mind, subordinate Unto the Councels of eternall Fate? Why under this high Plane, or Pine-tre's shade In discomposed, manner carelesse layd, Our hoary hayre perfum'd with fragrant Rose, And odours which Assyria doth disclose. Doe wee (annoynted) not to drinke prepare? Free Bacchus dissipates consuming care. But (oh) what Boy, Falernian wines hote rage, Will soone for me, with gliding streames asswage? (Ah) how retyred Lyde will require, Hither to come. Boy with her Ivory Lyre, Bid her make hast, and heire to tie not shame, In carlesse knot, like a Laconian Dame.

Ode XIV. TO POSTHUMUS. Life is short, and Death is necessary.

Eheu fugaces posthume.

AH Posthumus, swift yeare doe passe, Nor can religiouse Zeale (alas) To wrinckles, or decrepit dayes, Or Death untamed brings delayes: Not, if thou to harsh Plutoes shrine Each day three hundred Bulls assigne: Who Geryon, and Tytius bound, With sable River doth surround. A streame on which each man must sayle. From Royall Scepter to the flayle. Wee bloody Mars decline in vaine, Or broken waves of Adrian maine:

And (needlesse feare in Autumne rife, The South wind's hurtfull to our life. Wandring Cocytus Flood, with slow And heavy Current, thou must know. And Danäus infamous traine, And Sysiphus with endlesse paine. Thou House, Land, lovely Wife must want, Nor of the Trees, which thou dost plant, (Thou dead) will any wayte on thee, But the dispised Cypresse Tree. Thy worthier Heire, drinkes precious wine. Which thou with hundred keies did'st shrine; And with it the rich pavement dewes; None such the high Priest Banquet shewes.

Ode XV. Against the excesse of that Age.

Jam pauca aratro.

MAgnifique buildings will leave shortly now, Few Akers of firme land, unto the Plough; Now many are beheld huge Pooles to make Of much more wide extent, then Lucrine Lake. The solitary Plane, the Elme supplants, And now no sort of od'rous flowers wants, As Roses, Violets, and Venus-Mittle, Where th'Olive grew, to former Lords so fertile. The Lawrell now, to Phoebus piercing eye, Through his thick branches passage doth denie. No such Praescript did Romulus exact, Nor Elders, nor rough Cato did enact.

Private Revenues, then, were short, and low, And each man sought to make the publique flow. Proud Galleries no private man, then made, Of ten foot wide to let in Northerne shade. Nor did our Lawes, then suffer us, disdaine, A casuall Turse, for pillow to retaine; Commaunding townes to build, at publique charge, And the gods Temples with new stone enlarge.

Ode XVI. TO GROSPHUS. All men desire tranquilitie of mind which can nei∣ther with Riches, nor Honours bee acquired, but onely with bridleing our Appeties.

Otium Divos rogat.

SOone as black clouds have hid the Moones bright eyes And Pilots cannot best knowne Stars espy, The Marriner toss'd in Aegcan Sea, Straight to the gods for rest makes humble plea. The Thraecians fierce in warre doe ease require, And Quiver-bearing Medes repose desire, Repose, which not with gemms, purple, or gold, (Beleeve me Grosphus) will be bought, or sold. No Wealth, nor Consulls Lictors that make way, Can from the heart disturbed tumults fray, Nor cares which round about gilt roofes do fly. Hee with a little liveth happily, Who having on his homely Table plac'd His Fathers Cup, and Salt kept undefac'd, So lives, that feare, nor sordid lucre keepe His waking eyes from soft, and gentle sleepe.

Why doe wee (boldly) many things propose In short liv'd age, which Time doth quickly close? Why lands with other Sonne enflamed change? Who from himselfe, though far from home can range? Strong Ships are boarded by consuming Care: Nor doth she bravest troupes of Horsemen spare: More swift she is, then the light-footed Hind, Or tempest-raising stormes of Easterne wind. The mind in present cheerefull, hates to care For what beyond it lies; And doth prepare To temper bitter things with laughter free. "Nothing in all respects can happy bee. Death quickly snatched brave Achilles hence, Nor did with Tythou's long liv'd age dispense: And that (perhaps) of time I may obtaine, VVhich thy expecting hopes shall never gaine. You many fertile flocks of sheepe command, Sicilian Kine about you lowing stand. Your Mares for Chariot fit, are hard from farre, Lowdly to neigh: Nor garments wanting are, Of Purple cloth, dipp'd twice in Affrick Dy; VVhile a poore state, by upright destiny, To me is giv'n; mix'd with a slender name, Of Greckith Muse, and scorne of vulgar Fame.

Ode XVII. TO MAECENAS being sicke. Whom hee resolveth not to survive.

Cur Mc querelis.

WHy kill you mee with your laments? It neither gods, nor mee contents,

Maecenas (first) should yeeld to Fate, The Grace, and Piller of my State. But if a speedier stroke of death, Rob thee (my soules best part) of breath? VVhy stay I in the other, Sole, Not pleasing to my Selfe, nor whole? One day shall see us perish both: I have not sworne an idle oath. Goe, when you please, I will not stay, But be your partner in the way. Chimera's spirit breathing fire, Nor hundred handed Gyas, Ire; Shall this my fixed vow abate; Thus Justice hath it pleas'd, and Eate. Though Libra in his full aspect, And feared-Scorpius, direct, My Horoscope with rage infest, Or, Capricorne, that rules the VVest; Our Constellations both agree In admirable sort. And thee Ioves radiant lustre, hath exempt, From Saturnes Beame malevolent, And slack'd the wings of speedy death; VVhat time the people with lowd breath, Thrice in the Theater did sound That gladsome newes: Ev'n then a wound, By a tree's fall, my skull had broke. But VVood-god Faunus, from the stroke, Mee then did happily assist, (Patron of each Mercurialist.) Then pay thy vowes, thy temple build, And I a tender Lambe will yeeld.

Ode XVIII. Hee affirmeth himselfe content with little, while o∣thers are wholly addicted to their desires, and encrease of riches, as if they should alwayes live.

Non ebur, neque aureum.

NO guilded roofe, nor Ivory fret, For splendor in my house is set; Nor beames are from Hymettia sought, To lye athwart rich Columnes, brought From Affrick; nor an heyre unknowne, Attalus wealth, make I mine owne. No honest Clyents wives you see, L••conian Purples weave for mee: A loyall heart, and gentle vaine, Of wit I have; which doth constraine Rome's richest men, to seeke the love, Of mee but poore: Nor gods above, Doe I invoke for larger store; Nor of Moecenas aske I more. To mee, my onely Sabine field, Sufficient happinesse doth yeeld. "One day thrusts on another fast, And new Moones to the Wane doe hast. When death (perhaps) is neare at hand, Thou fayrest Marbles dost command Be cut for use, yet dost neglect Thy grave, and houses still erect, And wouldst abridge, the vast Seas shore, Which loudly doth at Baia rore: Enriched little, lesse content, With limits of the Continent. Why often pull you up your bounds, T••••••large the Circuit of your grounds,

And greedily your list extend ••eyond your neighbour straightly penn'd? Both man, and wife with sordid brood, And ancient houshold gods, that stood 〈◊〉〈◊〉 quiet peace, must bee expeld; Yet is no habitation, held, ••••r the rich Land-lord, so assur'd, ••••s in deepe Hell to bee immur'd. Then whither doe you further tend? 〈◊〉〈◊〉 'indifferent Earth, and equall friend, ••s willingly opens her wombe, For Beggers grave, as Prince's Tombe. ••old could of Charon not obtaine, To beare Prometheus backe againe. Proud Fantalus, and all his stock, ••ee, in the bands of Fate did lock. And call'd, or not call'd still is prest, To give the labouring poore man, Rest.

The end of the second Booke.