Quotations by:
Horace
I am displeased when sometimes even the worthy Homer nods
[Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus]
He is not poor who has enough of things to use.
If it is well with your belly, chest and feet,
the wealth of kings can give you nothing more.[Pauper enim non est, cui rerum suppetit usus.
si ventri bene, si lateri est pedibusque tuis, nil
divitiae poterunt regales addere maius.]
When your neighbor’s wall is on fire, it becomes your business.
[Num tua res agitur paries cum proximus ardet.]
Anger is momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.
[Ira furor brevis est: animum rege: qui nisi paret imperat.]
The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
[Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes.]
With tread imperial, impartial pallid Death
knocks at the doors of cottages and palaces. [Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas
Regumque turres.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 4, l. 13ff (1.4.13-14) (23 BC) [tr. Alexander (1999), “To Lucius Sestius”]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Death knocks as boldly at the Rich mans dore
As at the Cottage of the Poore,
[tr. Fanshaw (1666), "To L. Sextius, a Consular Man"]With equal foot, Rich friend, impartial Fate
Knocks at the Cottage, and the Palace Gate.
[tr. Creech (1684), "He adviseth his Friend to live merrily"]Pale Death, impartial, walks his round: he knocks at cottage-gate
And palace-portal.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Pale death knocks at the cottages of the poor, and the palaces of kings, with an impartial foot.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853), "To Sextius"]Death comes alike to all, — to the monarch's lordly hall,
Or the hovel of the beggar, and his summons none shall stay.
[tr. Martin (1864), "To Sestius"]But all the while, with equal step, pale Death strides on unpausing,
Knocks at thé lowly shed and regal tower.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870), "To Lucius Sestius"]Pale death, with impartial step, knocks at the hut of the poor and the towers of kings.
[E.g. (1893)]The kingly tower alike
And pauper's hut pale Death will strike.
[tr. Gladstone (1894), "To the Rich Sextius"]Pale Death with foot impartial knocks at poor men's dwellings.
And tow'rs of monarchs.
[tr. Phelps (1897), "To Sestius"]Pale death with foot impartial strikes at the huts of paupers and
Kings' towers.
[tr. Garnsey (1907), "To Sestius"]With equal foot pale Pluto knocks at hovels of the poor,
And at the tyrant's towers
[tr. Marshall (1908), "Spring"]Pale Death with foot impartial knocks at the poor man’s cottage and at princes’ palaces.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912), "Spring's Lesson"]Marching with step impartial, Death's pale Presence raps its call
At doors of rich and poor alike.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Hold! Pale Death, at the poor man's shack and the pasha's palace kicking
Impartially, announces his arrival.
[tr. Michie (1964)]Death raps his bony knuckles, bleached,
Indifferent, on any man’s door, a palace or a hut.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Revenant white-faced Death is walking not knowing whether
He's going to knock at a rich man's door or a poor man's.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Pale death knocks with impartial foot, at the door of the poor man’s cottage,
and at the prince’s gate.
[tr. Kline (2015), "Spring"]
O my brave men! stout hearts of mine!
who often have suffered worse calamities with me.
let us now drown your cares in wine.
Tomorrow we venture once again upon the boundless sea.[O fortes peioraque passi
mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas;
cras ingens iterabimus aequor.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 7, l. 30ff (1.7.30-32) (23 BC) [tr. Alexander (1999)]
(Source)
To L. Munatius Plancus. Quoting Teucer to his crew on his being exiled from Salamis.
Quoted in Montaigne, 3.13 "On Experience" (immediately following this).
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Brave Spirits, who with me have suffer'd sorrow,
Drink cares away; wee'l set up sails to-morrow.
[tr. "Sir T. H.," Brome (1666)]Cheer, rouze your force,
For We have often suffer'd worse:
Drink briskly round, dispell all cloudy sorrow,
Drink round, Wee'l plow the Deep to-morrow.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Hearts, that have borne with me
Worse buffets! drown today in wine your care;
To-morrow we recross the wide, wide sea!
[tr. Conington (1872)]O gallant heroes, and often my fellow-sufferers in greater hardships than these, now drive away your cares with wine: to-morrow we will re-visit the vast ocean.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Now, ye brave hearts, that have weather'd
Many a sorer strait with me,
Chase your cares with wine, — to-morrow
We shall plough the mighty sea!
[tr. Martin (1864)]Brave friends who have borne with me often
Worse things as men, let the wine chase to-day every care from the bosom,
To-morrow -- again the great Sea Plains.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]My comrades bold, to worse than this
Inured, to-morrow brave the vasty brine,
But drown to-day your cares in wine.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]O brave friends, who have oft with your leader
Suffer'd worse trials, cheer up, let sorrows dissolve in the wine-cup,
We will try the vast ocean to-morrow.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]O brave men, often worse things ye with me
Have borne, now drive with wine your cares away,
To-morrow we will sail the wide sea once again.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]To-night with wine drown care,
Friends oft who've braved worse things with me than these;
At morn o'er the wide sea once more we'll fare!
[tr. Marshall (1908)]O ye brave heroes, who with me have often suffered worse misfiprtunes, now banish care with wine! To-morrow we will take again our course over the mighty main.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]With wine now banish care;
Worse things we've known, brave hearts; once more
we'll plough the main tomorrow morn.
[tr. Mills (1924)]You who have stayed by me through worse disasters,
Heroes, come, drink deep, let wine extinguish our sorrows.
We take the huge sea on again tomorrow.
[tr. Michie (1964)]O my brave fellows who have gone through worse
Than this with me, now with the help of wine
Let's put aside our troubles for a while.
Tomorrow we set out on the vast ocean.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]O you brave heroes, you
who suffered worse with me often, drown your cares with wine:
tomorrow we’ll sail the wide seas again.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Pry not, the morrow’s chance to learn:
Set down to gain whatever turn
The wheel may take.
[Quid sit futurum cras, fuge quaerere, et
quem fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro
adpone.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 9, l. 13ff (1.9.13-15) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
To Thaliarchus.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Upon to Morrow reckon not,
Then if it comes 'tis clearly got.
[Fanshaw (1666)]All Cares, and Fears are fond and vain,
Fly vexing thoughts of dark to-morrow;
What Chance scores up, count perfect gain,
And banish business, banish sorrow.
[tr. Creech (1684)]To-morrow and her works defy,
Lay hold upon the present hour,
And snatch the pleasures passing by,
To put them out of fortune's power:
[tr. Dryden (c. 1685)]O, ask not what the morn will bring,
But count as gain each day that chance
May give you.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Avoid inquiring what may happen to-morrow; and whatever day fortune shall bestow on you, score it up for gain.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Let not to-morrow's change or chance
Perplex thee, but as gain
Count each new day!
[tr. Martin (1864)]Shun to seek what is hid in the womb of the morrow;
Count the lot of each day as clear gain in life’s ledger.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]What brings to-morrow care not to ask, and what
Fortune each day may bring, set it down as gain.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]What is to be to-morrow do not ask: appraise
As gain the course of days Fortune will yield.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]What next morn's sun may bring, forbear to ask;
But count each day that comes by gift of chance
So much to the good.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Cease to ask what the morrow will bring forth, and set down as gain each day that Fortune grants!
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Ask not the morrow's good or ill;
Reckon it gain however chance
May shape each day.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Try not to guess what lies in the future, but
As Fortune deals days enter them into your
Life's book as windfalls, credit items,
Gratefully.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Stop wondering after tomorrow: take
Day by day the days you’re granted.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Cease to ask what tomorrow may bring
and count as gain whatever Fortune grants you today.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Don’t ask what tomorrow brings, call them your gain
whatever days Fortune gives.
[tr. Kline (2015)]Leave off asking what tomorrow will bring, and
whatever days fortune will give, count them
as profit.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
Don’t spurn sweet love,
my child, and don’t you be neglectful
of the choir of love, or the dancing feet,
while life is still green, and your white-haired old age
is far away with all its moroseness. Now,
find the Campus again, and the squares,
soft whispers at night, at the hour agreed,
and the pleasing laugh that betrays her, the girl
who’s hiding away in the darkest corner,
and the pledge that’s retrieved from her arm,
or from a lightly resisting finger.
[Nec dulcis amores
sperne puer neque tu choreas,
donec virenti canities abest
morosa. Nunc et campus et areae
lenesque sub noctem susurri
conposita repetantur hora,
nunc et latentis proditor intumo
gratus puellae risus ab angulo
pignusque dereptum lacertis
aut digito male pertinaci.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 9, l. 15ff (1.9.15-24) (23 BC) [tr. Kline (2015)]
(Source)
"To Thaliarchus." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Till testy Age gray Hairs shall snow
Upon thy Head, lose Mask, nor Show:
Soft whispers now delight
At a set hour by Night:
And Maids that gigle to discover
Where they are hidden to a Lover;
And Bracelets or some toy
Snatcht from the willing Coy.
[tr. Fanshaw (Brome (1666))]Secure those golden early joys,
That youth unsoured with sorrow bears,
Ere withering time the taste destroys,
With sickness and unwieldy years.
For active sports, for pleasing rest,
This is the time to be possest;
The best is but in season best.
The appointed hour of promised bliss,
The pleasing whisper in the dark,
The half unwilling willing kiss,
The laugh that guides thee to the mark;
When the kind nymph would coyness feign,
And hides but to be found again;
These, these are joys the gods for youth ordain.
[tr. Dryden (c. 1685)]Whilst Thou art green, and gay, and Young,
E're dull Age comes, and strength decays,
Let mirth, and humor, dance, and song
Be all the trouble of thy days.
The Court, the Mall, the Park, and Stage,
With eager thoughts of Love pursue;
Gay Evening whispers fit thy Age,
And be to Assignation true.
Now Love to hear the hiding Maid,
Whom Youth hath fir'd, and Beauty charms
By her own tittering laugh betray'd,
And forc'd into her Lover's Arms.
Go dally with thy wanton Miss,
And from the Willing seeming Coy,
Or force a Ring, or steal a Kiss;
For Age will come, and then farewell to joy.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Sport in life's young spring,
Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,
While years are green, while sullen eld
Is distant. Now the walk, the game,
The whisper'd talk at sunset held,
Each in its hour, prefer their claim.
Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarm
The hiding-place of beauty tells,
The token, ravish'd from the arm
Or finger, that but ill rebels.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Nor disdain, being a young fellow, pleasant loves, nor dances, as long as ill-natured hoariness keeps off from your blooming age. Now let both the Campus Martius and the public walks, and soft whispers at the approach of evening be repeated at the appointed hour: now, too, the delightful laugh, the betrayer of the lurking damsel from some secret corner, and the token ravished from her arms or fingers, pretendingly tenacious of it.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Let beauty's glance
Engage thee, and the merry dance,
Nor deem such pleasures vain!
Gloom is for age. Young hearts should glow
With fancies bright and free,
Should court the crowded walk, the show,
And at dim eve love's murmurs low
Beneath the trysting tree;
The laugh from the sly corner, where
Our girl is hiding fast,
The struggle for the lock of hair,
The half well pleased, half angry air,
The yielded kiss at last.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Spurn not, thou, who art young, dulcet loves;
Spurn not, thou, choral dances and song
While the hoar-frost morose keeps aloof from thy verdure.
Thine the sports of the Campus, the gay public gardens;
Thine at twilight the words whispered low;
Each in turn has its own happy hour:
And thine the sweet laugh of the girl -- which betrays her
Hiding slyly within the dim nook of the threshold,
And the love-token snatched from the wrist,
Or the finger's not obstinate hold.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Youth must not spurn
Sweet loves, nor yet the dance forsake,
While grudging Age thy prime shall spare.
The Plain, the Squares, be now thy care,
And lounges, dear at nightfall, where
By concert love may whisper 'Hist!'
From inner nook a winsome smile
Betrays the girl that sculks the while,
And keepsakes, deftly filched by guile
From yielding finger, or from wrist.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Nor, while thy vigour lasts, despise thou
Pleasures of love, nor the joys of dancing.
While the moroseness due to advancing age
Whitens not yet thy head, let the walks and park
And gentle whispers heard at nightfall
Each be repeated at fitting seasons.
Now, too, the pleasant laughter be heard, that tells
How lurking beauty hides in the corner-nook,
And token ravish'd from the arm, or
Finger, that daintily seems unwilling.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Being but yet a youth, contemn
Neither the sweets of love nor of the dance,
While from your bloom crabbed greyness holds aloof.
Now let the Campus and the city squares,
And whispers low, be sought at nightfall,
On the appointed hour of tryst;
And now the fascinating laugh from some recess
Secluded, the betrayer of a maid
In hiding, and the pledge snatched off
An arm or finger ill retaining it.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Spurn not the dance,
Or in sweet loves to bask,
While surly age mars not thy morning's flower.
Seek now the athlete's training field or court;
See gentle lovers' whispered sport,
At nightfalls's trysted hour;
Seek the gay laught that from her ambush borne
Betrays the merry maiden huddled warm,
And forfeit from her hand or arm
Half given, half playful torn.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Nor in thy youth neglect sweet love nor dances, whilst life is still in its bloom and crabbed age is far away! Now let the Campus be sought and the squares, with low whispers at the trysting-hour as night draws on, and the merry tell-tale laugh of maiden hiding in farthest comer, and the forfeit snatched from her arm or finger that but feigns resistance.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Scorn not, while still
A boy, sweet loves; scorn not the dance.
Life in its Spring, and crabbed eld
Far off -- that is the time; then hey
For Park, Square, whispered concerts held
At a set hour at close of day:
For the sweet laugh whose soft alarm
Tells in what nook the maid lies hid:
For the love-token snatched from arm,
Of fingers that but half-forbid.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Now that you're young, and peevish
Grey hairs are still far distant, attend to the
Dance-floor, the heart's sweet business; for now is the
Right time for midnight assignations,
whispers and murmurs in Rome's piazzas
And fields, and soft, low laughter that gives away
The girl who plays love's games in a hiding-place --
Off comes a ring coaxed down an arm or
Pulled from a faintly resisting finger.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Take love while you're young and you can,
Laugh, dance,
Before time takes your chances
Away. Stroll where baths, where theaters
Bring Romans to walk, to talk, where whispers
Flit through the darkness as lovers meet,
And girls laugh from hidden corners,
Happy as favors
Are snatched in the darkness, laugh
And pretend to say no.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]While you're still young,
And while morose old age is far away,
There's love, there are parties, there's dancing and there's music,
There are young people out in the city squares together
As evening comes on, there are whispers of lovers, there's laughter.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Do not disdain, boy, sweet love; and dance
while you are yet in bloom, and crabbed age far away.
Now frequent the Campus Martius
and public ways, and pizzas where soft whispers
are repeated at the trysting hour
and where the suffocated laughter of a girl
lurking in a corner reveals
secret betrayal and the forfeit
snatched away from a wrist
or from a finger, scarcely resisting.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]And while you're young don't scorn
sweet love affairs and dances,
so long as crabbed old age is far from
your vigor. Now let the playing field and the
public squares and soft whisperings at nightfall
(the appointed hour) be your pursuits;
now too the sweet laughter of a girl hiding
in a secret corner, which gives her away,
and a pledge snatched from her wrists
or her feebly resisting finger.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb’d away.
Seize the present; trust tomorrow e’en as little as you may.
[Dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 11, l. 8ff (1.11.8-9) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
Often titled "To Leuconoë." This is the source of the famous phrase, "carpe diem," commonly translated "seize the day." Many scholars give it a more horticultural spin, to harvest the day now, while it is ripe. More discussion here. More quotations along this theme here.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Whilest we are talking, envious Time doth slide:
This day's thine own, the next may be deny'd.
[tr. Sir T. H.; ed. Brome (1666)]Time, while we speak on't flyes; now banish sorrow,
Live well to day, and never trust to morrow.
[tr. S. W., Esq.; ed. Brome (1666)]E'en whil'st we speak the Envious time
Doth make swift hast away,
Then seize the present, use thy prime,
Nor trust another Day.
[tr. Creech (1684)]While we are conversing, envious age has been flying; seize the present day, not giving the least credit to the succeeding one.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Use all life's powers,
The envious hours
Fly as we talk ; then live to-day,
Nor fondly to to-morrow trust more than you must and may.
[tr. Martin (1864)]While we talk, grudging Time will be gone, and a part of ourselves be no more.
Seize to-day -- for the morrow it is in which thy belief should be least.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Our span is brief. The niggard hour,
in chatting, ebbs away;
Trust nothing for to-morrow's sun:
make harvest of to-day.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]E'en while we speak, envious life will fly; --
So make use of to-day, trusting the next, little as possible.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]While we are talking envious time steals on:
Catch to-day's joy and give the morrow but a minimum of trust.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Ev'n as we speak, grim Time
speeds swift away;
Seize now and here the hour that is. nor trust
some later day!
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Even while we speak, envious Time has sped. Reap the harvest of to-day, putting as little trust as may be in the morrow!
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]E'en while we speak time, grudging time, has fled; snatch eagerly
Each day, and trust the morrow's grace as little as may be.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Even while
We talk Time, hateful, runs a mile.
Don't trust tomorrow's bough
For fruit. Pluck this, here, now.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Time goes running, even
As we talk. Take the present, the future's no one's affair.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Now as I say these words,
Time has already fled
Backwards away --
Leuconoe --
Hold on to the day.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]While we converse, envious time will have vanished: harvest
Today, placing the least credence on what’s to come.
[tr. Willett (1998)]Even as we speak, envious Time is fleeing.
Seize the day: entrusting as little as possible to tomorrow.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]The envious moment is flying now, now, while we’re speaking:
Seize the day, place in the hours that come as little faith as you can.
[tr. Kline (2015)]While we are speaking, envious life
will have fled: seize the day, trusting the future as little as possible.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
Drink! O friends, stamp wild
Bare feet on the ground.[Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero
pulsanda tellus.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 1, # 37, l. 1ff (1.37.1-2) (23 BC) [tr. Raffel (1983)]
(Source)
A light-hearted opening for a celebration of Caesar's success at the battle of Actium and the defeat and death of Cleopatra (and, not mentioned, Marc Antony).
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Now let us drink, now dance (Companions) now.
[tr. Sir T. H.; ed. Brome (1666)]Now now tis time to dance and play,
And drink, and frollick all the Day.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Now drink we deep, now featly tread
A measure.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Now, my companions, is the time to carouse, now to beat the ground with a light foot.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Now, comrades, fill each goblet to the brim,
Now, now with bounding footsteps strike the ground.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Drink, companions, the moment has come for carousal,
And the foot is now free to strike earth in brisk measures.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]'Tis time we drink, 'tis time we dance.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Now is the time to quaff, and to beat the ground
With foot untrammell'd.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Now 'tis to drink: now with free foot
To smite the ground.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Now 'tis the hour for wine, now without check
To trip it gaily.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Now is the time to drain the flowing bowl, now with unfettered foot to beat the ground with dancing.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Bumpers! Let free foot beat the earth!
To drink, dance ....
[tr. Mills (1924)]Now drink and dance, my comrades.
[tr. Edgar (1893)]Today is the day to drink and dance on. Dance, then,
Merrily, friends, till the earth shakes.
[tr. Michie (1963)]At last the day has come for celebration,
For dancing and for drinking.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]To drinking now, now all to the nimble foot
that beats the earth.
[tr. Willett (1998)]Now is the time for drinking, O my friends!
Now with a free foot beating the earth in dance!
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Now’s the time for drinking deep, and now’s the time
to beat the earth with unfettered feet.
[tr. Kline (2015)]Now it is time to drink; now with loose feet
it is time for beating the earth.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
Brace thee, my friend, when times are hard, to show
A mind unmoved; nor less, when fair thy state,
A sober joy. For Death doth wait
As surely, whether woe
Dogs all thy days, or fortune bids thee bask
On peaceful lawn reclined while life goes well,
And quaff thy wine, from inner cell
Drawn at Falernian cask.[Aequam memento rebus in arduis
servare mentem, non secus in bonis
ab insolenti temperatam
laetitia, moriture Delli,
seu maestus omni tempore vixeris
seu te in remoto gramine per dies
festos reclinatum bearis
interiore nota Falerni.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 2, # 3, l. 1ff (2.3.1-8) (23 BC) [tr. Marshall (1908)]
(Source)
Generally believed to be addressed to Quintus Dellius, but some scholars point to an older manuscript that refers to "Gelli" rather than "Delli," which then fits into various theories about themes in in Horace's works.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Keep still an equal minde, not sunk
With stormes of adverse chance, not drunk
With sweet Prosperitie,
O Dellius that must die,
Whether thou live still melancholy,
Or stretcht in a retired valley;
Make all thy howers merry
With bowls of choicest Sherrie.
[tr. Sir R. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]An even mind in every State,
Amidst the Frowns and Smiles of Fate,
Dear mortal Delius always show;
Let not too much of cloudy Fear,
Nor too intemperate joys appear
Or to contract, or to extend thy Brow:
Whether thy dull unhappy Years
Run slowly clog'd with Hopes and Fears,
And sit too heavy on thy Soul;
Or whether crown'd on Beds of Flowers
Mirth softly drives thy easy hours
And cheers thy Spirits with the choicest Bowl.
[tr. Creech (1684)]An equal mind, when storms o'ercloud,
Maintain, nor 'neath a brighter sky
Let pleasure make your heart too proud,
O Dellius, Dellius! sure to die,
Whether in gloom you spend each year,
Or through long holydays at ease
In grassy nook your spirit cheer
With old Falernian vintages.
[tr. Conington (1872)]O Dellius, since thou art born to die, be mindful to preserve a temper of mind even in times of difficulty, as well an restrained from insolent exultation in prosperity: whether thou shalt lead a life of continual sadness, or through happy days regale thyself with Falernian wine of the oldest date, at ease reclined in some grassy retreat.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Let not the frowns of fate
Disquiet thee, my friend,
Nor, when she smiles on thee, do thou, elate
With vaunting thoughts, ascend
Beyond the limits of becoming mirth,
For, Dellius, thou must die, become a clod of earth!
Whether thy days go down
In gloom, and dull regrets.
Or, shunning life's vain struggle for renown,
Its fever and its frets,
Stretch'd on the grass, with old Falernian wine.
Thou giv'st the thoughtless hours a rapture all divine.
[tr. Martin (1864)]With a mind undisturbed take life's good and life's evil,
Temper grief from despair, temper joy from vainglory;
For, through each mortal change, equal mind,
O my Dellius, befits mortal-born,
Whether all that is left thee of life be but trouble,
Or, reclined at thine ease amid grassy recesses,
Thy Falernian, the choicest, records
How serenely the holidays glide.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]An even mind in days of care,
And in thy days of joy to bear
A chastened mood, remember: why?
'Tis, Dellius, that thou hast to die.
Alike, if all thy life be sad,
Or festal season find thee glad,
On the lone turf at ease recline,
And quaff thy best Falernian wine.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]See thou preserve a true equanimity
In seasons adverse, and in prosperity
A mind restrain'd from overweening
Joy, for, my Dellius, thou art mortal!
Whether in sorrow all thy life long thou live,
Or in a distant glade on some holiday,
Thou lie at ease, the summer day long,
Quaffing the specially-mark'd Falernian.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]An even mind remember to preserve
In arduous times, conversely, in the good
One tinctured with no overweening joy.
For you will die (Gillo)
Whether you live at all times sad,
Or whether on distant lawn reclined
Through days of feast you are made glorious
From inmost cellar of Falernian.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Remember, when life’s path is steep, to keep an even mind, and likewise, in prosperity, a spirit restrained from over-weening joy, Dellius, seeing thou art doomed to die, whether thou live always sad, or reclining in grassy nook take delight on holidays in some choice vintage of Falernian wine.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Remember, Dellius, doomed to die
Some day, to keep a level mind
When times are hard, nor pridefully
Exalt your horn when Fate seems kind --
Aye, doomed to die, whether each dawn
Renews your griefs, or days of rest
Comfort you, couched on some far lawn,
With old Falernian of the best.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Maintain an unmoved poise in adversity;
Likewise in luck one free of extravagant
Joy. Bear in mind my admonition,
Dellius. Whether you pass a lifetime
Prostrate with gloom, or whether you celebrate
Feast-days with choice old brands of Falernian,
Stretched out in some green, unfrequented
Meadow, remember your death is certain.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Remember, Dellius: keep yourself in
Balance when it’s hard, keep yourself in
Balance when all of it comes your way,
All of us destined to die
Whether we live forever sad
Or always lying in some grassy spot,
Celebrating life away
With a jug of choice Falernian.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]When things are bad, be steady in your mind;
Dellius, don't be
Too unrestrainedly joyful in good fortune.
You are going to die.
It doesn't matter at all whether you spend
Your days and nights in sorrow,
Or, on the other hand, in holiday pleasure,
Drinking Falernian wine
Of an excellent vintage year, on the river bank.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Remember, entrapped in life’s bitter maze,
to keep an even mind. Even in prosperity
do not give way to unbridled joy.
Remember, you must die, O Dellius,
Whether you live always embrued in melancholy
or languidly laying in a far-off meadow
on festive days, you take delight in
some choice vintage of Falernian wine.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]When things are troublesome, always remember,
keep an even mind, and in prosperity
be careful of too much happiness:
since my Dellius, you’re destined to die,
whether you live a life that’s always sad,
or reclining, privately, on distant lawns,
in one long holiday, take delight
in drinking your vintage Falernian.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Licinius, trust a seaman’s lore:
Steer not too boldly to the deep,
Nor, fearing storms, by treacherous shore
Too closely creep.
Who makes the golden mean his guide,
Shuns miser’s cabin, foul and dark,
Shuns gilded roofs, where pomp and pride
Are envy’s mark.
[Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum
semper urgendo neque, dum procellas
cautus horrescis, nimium premendo
litus iniquum.
Auream quisquis mediocritatem
diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
sordibus tecti, caret invidenda
sobrius aula.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 2, # 10, l. 1ff (2.10.1-8) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
To Licinius Varro Murena, who was later executed as a conspirator against Augustus.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:The safest way of life, is neither
To tempt the Deeps, nor whilst foul weather
You fearfully avoid, too near
The shore to steer.
He that affects the Golden Mean,
Will neither want a house that's clean,
Nor swell unto the place of showres
His envy'd Towres.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Wise they, that with a cautious fear
Not always thro the Ocean Steer,
Nor, whilst they think the Winds will roar,
Do thrust too near the rocky Shore:
To those that choose the golden Mean:
The Waves are smooth, the Skies serene;
They want the baseness of the Poors retreat,
And envy'd Houses of the Great.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse fortunes pow'r;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep
Along the treach'rous shore.
He that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between
The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbitt'ring all his state.
[tr. Cowper (1782?)]O Licinius, you will lead a more correct course of life, by neither always pursuing the main ocean, nor, while you cautiously are in dread of storms, by pressing too much upon the hazardous shore. Whosoever loves the golden mean, is secure from the sordidness of an antiquated cell, and is too prudent to have a palace that might expose him to envy.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]If thou wouldst live secure and free,
Thou wilt not keep far out at sea,
Licinius, evermore;
Nor, fearful of the gales that sweep
The ocean wide, too closely creep
Along the treacherous shore.
The man, who with a soul serene
Doth cultivate the golden mean,
Escapes alike from all
The squalor of a sordid cot,
And from the jealousies begot
By wealth in lordly hall.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Licinius, wouldst thou steer life's wiser voyage,
Neither launch always into deep mid-waters,
Nor hug the shores, and, shrinking from the tempest,
Hazard the quicksand.
He who elects the golden mean of fortune,
Nor where dull squalor rots the time-worn hovel,
Nor where fierce envy storms the new-built palace,
Makes his safe dwelling.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Neither always tempt the deep,
Nor, Licinius, always keep,
Fearing storms, the slippery beach:
Such the rule of life I teach.
Golden is the middle state;
Love the middle gifts of fate,
Not the sloven squalid cot,
Proud and envied palace not.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Better, Licinius, wilt thou live, by neither
Tempting the deep for ever, nor, while tempests
Cautiously shunning, by too closely hugging
Shores that are treach'rous.
He who the golden mean adopts, is ever
Free from the sorrows of a squalid dwelling; --
Free from the cares attending on the envied
Halls of the wealthy.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Licinius, better wilt thou live by neither urging
Alway out to sea, nor, while on guard 'gainst storms
Thou shudderest, by pressing an evil shore
Too close.
Whoever courts a golden mean is safe
To escape the squalor of a mouldered roof.
And shrewd to escape a paJace that may
Be grudged to him.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Safer thou'lt sail life's voyage, if them steer
Neither right out to sea, nor yet, when rise
The threat'ning tempests, hug the shore too near,
Unwisely wise.
What man soe'er the golden mean doth choose,
Prudent will shun the hovel's foul decay;
But with like sense, a palace will refuse
And vain display.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Better wilt thou live, Licinius, by neither always pressing out to sea nor too closely hugging the dangerous shore in cautious fear of storms. Whoso cherishes the golden mean, safely avoids the foulness of an ill-kept house and discreetly, too, avoids a hall exciting envy.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Licinius, would you live aright,
Tempt not the high seas evermore,
Nor, fearing tempests, in your fright
Too closely hug the dangerous shore.
Who loves the golden mean is free
And safe from grime -- the grime a house
Harbours in eld; his modesty
Earns not the envy mansions rouse.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Sail not too far to be safe, O Licinius!
Neither too close to the shore should you steer.
Rashness is foolish, and how ignominious
Cowardly fear!
He who possesses neither palace nor hovel
(My little flat would be half way between)
Hasn't a house at which paupers must grovel
Yet it is clean.
[tr. Adams (1928)]Licinius, to live wisely shun
The deep sea; on the other hand,
Straining to dodge the storm don't run
Too close in to the jagged land.
All who love safety make their prize
The golden mean and hate extremes:
Mansions are envied for their size,
Slums pitied for their rotting beams.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Licinius, life makes better sense
Lived neither pushing farther and farther
To sea, nor always hugging the dangerous
Shore, shaking at the thought of storms.
Cherish a golden mean and stay
Exempt from a filthy hovel
And exempt from the envy
A mansion excites.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]You'll do better, Licinius, not to spend your life
Venturing too far out on the dangerous waters,
Or else, for fear of storms, staying too close in
To the dangerous rocky shoreline, That man does best
Who chooses the middle way, so he doesn't end up
Living under a roof that's going to ruin
Or in some gorgeous mansion everyone envies.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Better will you live, O Licinius, not always urging yourself out upon the high seas, nor ever hugging the insidious shore in fear of storms. He who esteems the golden mean safely avoids the squalor of a wretched house and in sobriety, equally shuns the enviable palace.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]You’ll live more virtuously, my Murena,
by not setting out to sea, while you’re in dread
of the storm, or hugging fatal shores
too closely, either.
Whoever takes delight in the golden mean,
safely avoids the squalor of a shabby house,
and, soberly, avoids the regal palace
that incites envy.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Ah, Postumus! they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death’s indomitable power.
[Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 2, # 14, l. 1ff (2.14.1-4) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
"To Postumus." It is unclear which acquaintance of Horace this was addressed to; the name is popularly associated (back to Horace's time) with being given to a child born after the death of their father (which gives it a certain irony here); in reality, it was originally given to the (broader) category of last children of a father.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Ah Posthumus! the years of man
Slide on with winged pace, nor can
Vertue reprieve her friend
From wrinkles, age, and end.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Time (Posthumus) goes with full sail,
Nor can thy honest heart avail
A furrow'd brow, old age at hand,
Or Death unconquer'd to withstand:
One long night,
Shall hide this light
From all our sight,
And equal Death
Shall few dayes hence,
stop every breath.
[tr. S. W.; ed. Brome (1666)]The whirling year, Ah Friend! the whirling year Rouls on apace;
And soon shall wrinkles plough thy wither'd Face:
In vain you wast your Pious breath,
No prayers can stay, no vows defer
The swift approach of Age, and conqu'ring Death.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Alas! my Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years glide on; nor will piety cause any delay to wrinkles, and advancing old age, and insuperable death.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Ah, Posthumus, the years, the fleeting years
Still onwards, onwards glide;
Nor mortal virtue may
Time's wrinkling fingers stay,
Nor Age's sure advance, nor Death's all-conquering stride.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Postumus, Postumus, the years glide by us,
Alas! no piety delays the wrinkles,
Nor old age imminent,
Nor the indomitable hand of Death.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Ah! Postumus! Devotion fails
The lapse of gliding years to stay,
With wrinkled age it nought avails
Nor conjures conquering Death away.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Ah me! how quickly, Postumus, Postumus,
Glide by the years! nor even can piety
Delay the wrinkles, and advancing
Age, and attacks of unconquer'd Hades.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Alas! Postumus, Postumus, the fleeing years
Slip by, and duteousness does not give pause
To wrinkles, or to hasting age,
Or death unconquerable.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Ah! Postumus, Postumus, fast fly the years,
And prayers to wrinkles and impending age
Bring not delay; nor shalt assuage
Death's stroke with pious tears.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Alas, O Postumus, Postumus, the years glide swiftly by, nor will righteousness give pause to wrinkles, to advancing age, or Death invincible.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Ah, Postumus, my Postumus, the fleeting years roll by;
Wrinkles and ever nearing eld stay not for piety:
Relentless they, relentless death's unconquered tyranny.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Ah, how they glide by, Postumus, Postumus,
The years, the swift years! Wrinkles and imminent
Old age and death, whom no one conquers --
Piety cannot delay their onward
March.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Oh year by year, Póstumay,
Póstumay, time slips by,
And holiness can't stop us drying,
Or hold off death.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]How the years go by, alas how the years go by.
Behaving well can do nothing at all about it.
Wrinkles will come, old age will come, and death,
Indomitable. Nothing at all will work.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Alas! O Postumus, Postumus! Swiftly the years glide by, and no amount of piety will wrinkles delay or halt approaching age or ineluctable death.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Oh how the years fly, Postumus, Postumus,
they’re slipping away, virtue brings no respite
from the wrinkles that furrow our brow,
impending old age, Death the invincible.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Necessity’s impartial law
For every rank is still the same,
One lot for high and low to draw:
The urn hath room for every name.
[Aequa lege Necessitas
Sortitur insignes et imos;
Omne capax movet urna nomen.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 1, l. 14ff (3/1/14-16) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Necessity in a vast Pot
Shuffling the names of great and small,
Draws every one's impartial lot.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Yet equal Death doth strike at all,
The haughty Great, and humble Small,
She strikes with an impartial Hand;
She shakes the vast capacious Urn,
And each Man's Lot must take his turn;
Thro every glass she presses equal Sand.
[tr. Creech (1684)]What are great or small?
Death takes the mean man with the proud;
The fatal urn has room for all.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Fate, by the impartial law of nature, is allotted both to the conspicuous and the obscure; the capacious urn keeps every name in motion.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Still Fate doth grimly stand.
And with impartial hand
The lots of lofty and of lowly draws
From that capacious urn,
Whence every name that lives is shaken in its turn.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Necessity with equal law assorts the varying lots;
Though this may bear the lofty name and that may bear the low,
Each in her ample urn she shakes,
And casts the die for all.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]But all with equal law stern Necessity
Allots their place — the high, the lowest,
Ev'ry man's name in that urn is shaken.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]but Doom, with equal law.
Wins high and humblest,
The ample urn shakes every name.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Alike for high and low Death votes.
His mighty urn will throw
Each name or soon or late.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Yet with impartial justice Necessity allots the fates of high and low alike. The ample urn keeps tossing every name.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]All the same,
Ever and aye Necessity
Dooms high and low impartially;
The vasty urn shakes every name.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Yet still Necessity, the same just dealer,
Allots to high and low
Their fates: her large urn shuffles every name.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Necessity makes the choice.
No matter what your station or situation,
Your name is shake in the urn.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Necessity allots the destinies of illustrious and lowly alike. The capacious urn churns every name.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]But Necessity sorts
the fates of high and low with equal
justice: the roomy urn holds every name.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
The glorious and the decent way of dying
Is for one’s country. Run, and death will seize
You no less surely. The young coward, flying,
Gets his quietus in the back and knees.
[Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur virum
nec parcit inbellis iuventae
poplitibus timidoque tergo.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 2, l. 13ff (3.2.13-16) (23 BC) [tr. Michie (1963)]
(Source)
The first line is often translated as "It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country." While dulce et decorum is often in the modern era (World War I and beyond) dismissed as murderous, meaningless brainwashing, the rest of the quatrain clarifies that death comes to the courageous and cowardly alike; that dishonorable flight does not ensure safety.
Though it's worth noting that Horace wrote of abandoning his shield and fleeing at the Battle of Philippi.
The ode as a whole is about training young Roman men in discipline and courage.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:It is a sweet, and noble gain,
In Countreys quarrel to be slain.
Death the swift flying man pursues
With ready steps: Nor doth he use
To spare from unavoided wrack,
Youths supple hams, or fearful back.
[tr. Sir T. H.; ed. Brome (1666)]He nobly Bleeds, he bravely Dies,
That falls his Countries Sacrifice;
The flying Youth swift Fate o're takes
It strikes them thro the trembling backs,
And runs too fast for nimble Cowardice.
[tr. Creech (1684)]What joy, for fatherland to die!
Death's darts e'en flying feet o'ertake,
Nor spare a recreant chivalry,
A back that cowers, or loins that quake.
[tr. Conington (1872)]It is sweet and glorious to die for one’s country; death even pursues the man that flies from him; nor does he spare the trembling knees of effeminate youth, nor the coward back.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]For our dear native land to die
Is glorious and sweet;
And death the coward slaves that fly
Pursues with steps as fleet.
Nor spares the loins and backs of those
Unwarlike youths, who shun their foes.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Glorious and sweet it is to die for the dear native land;
Even him who runs away from Death, Death follows fast behind --
Death does not spare the recreant back,
And hamstrings limbs that flee.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Sweet and glorious it is to die for our country. Death also pursues the runaway, and spares not the legs and trembling back of the unwarlike youth.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]'T is sweet for native land to die,
'T is noble: Death takes them that fly:
For coward back it has no ruth,
Nor spares the flight of dastard youth.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]'Tis sweet and noble -- Death for one's country's sake --
Death overtakes the cowardly fugitive.
Nor spares his flying limbs, and timid
Back, as he runs from the foe dishonour'd.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]'Tis sweet and honourable to die for fatherland.
Death follows even the man who flees.
And of unwarlike youth
Spares not the loins and recreant back.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Good 'tis and fine, for fatherland to die!
Death tracks him too who shirks; nor will He fail
To smite the coward loins that quail,
The coward limbs that fly!
[tr. Marshall (1908)]'Tis sweet and glorious to die for fatherland. Yet Death o’ertakes not less the runaway, nor spares the limbs and coward backs of faint-hearted youths.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]To die for Homeland is a sweet
And gracious thing; on flying feet
Death presses hard, nor spares to smite
Poltroons' weak knees and backs affright.
[tr. Mills (1924)]How good, how noble to die for your country.
Death chases those who run from him,
And catches them, sand never spares a coward
Or a womanish boy.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Sweet and proper it is to die for your country,
But Death would just as soon come after him
Who runs away; Death gets him by the backs
Of his fleeing knees and jumps him from behind.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Sweet and noble is it to die for one’s country, yet Death pursues even the man who flees, nor does he spare the languid loins and cowardly backs of pusillanimous youth.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]It’s sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.
Yet death chases after the soldier who runs,
and it won’t spare the cowardly back
or the limbs, of peace-loving young men.
[tr. Kline (2015)]It is sweet and proper to die for your country:
Death, too, pursues the runaway man
And does not spare the knees of a peaceful youth
nor a fearful back.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
To Virtue shame is all unknown;
She shines with honours of her own;
Nor, as the public smile or frown,
Takes office up, or lays it down.[Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae,
intaminatis fulget honoribus
nec sumit aut ponit securis
arbitrio popularis aurae.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 2, l. 17ff (3.2.17-20) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
The bundle of rods, sometimes encircling an axe, is known as the fasces, and was the symbol of government power in Rome. The reference to the axe (securis) is from this symbol.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Vertue, that ne're repulse admits,
In taintless honours, glorious sits,
Nor takes, or leaveth Dignities,
Rais'd with the noise of vulgar cries.
[tr. Sir T. H.; ed. Brome (1666)]Vertue, unlearn'd to bear the base
And shameful baffle of disgrace,
Nor takes, nor quits the tottering Throne,
As fickle Crowds shall smile or frown;
Nor from their wavering Breath receives the place.
[tr. Creech (1684)]True Virtue never knows defeat:
Her robes she keeps unsullied still,
Nor takes, nor quits, her curule seat
To please a people's veering will.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Virtue, unknowing of base repulse, shines with immaculate honors; nor does she assume nor lay aside the ensigns of her dignity, at the veering of the popular air.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Worth, all-indifferent to the spurns
Of vulgar souls profane,
The honours wears, it proudly earns,
Unclouded by a stain:
Nor grasps, nor lays the fasces down,
As fickle mobs may smile or frown.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Virtue ne'er knows of a defeat which brings with it disgrace;
The blazon of her honors ne’er the breath of men can stain;
Her fasces she nor takes nor quits
As veers the popular gale.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Virtue knows not base rejection, is radiant with the purest honour, and neither takes, nor resigns, the axes at the breath of the popular will.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Virtue, that knows not how to be overthrown,
Shines with unsullied honours impregnable.
Nor at the lawless people's bidding
Does she take up or lay down her honours.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Virtue that knows not base defeat
Shines with untarnished honours,
Nor takes nor lays aside the Consul's axe
Upon decision by the popular whim.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]True Worth knows not defeat, and still preserves
His robe unsullied by base Envy's stain;
He takes not nor quits power again,
As mob-mood sways and swerves.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]True worth, that never knows ignoble defeat, shines with undimmed glory, nor takes up nor lays aside the axes at the fickle mob’s behest.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Virtue, secure from shameful rout,
With honours all-unstained shines out;
Nor takes, nor drops, authority
To suit the crowd's oft-changing cry.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Unconscious of mere loss of votes and shining
With honours that the mob's breath cannot dim,
True worth is not found raising or resigning
The fasces at the wind of popular whim.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Virtue has no concern with reputation,
Shines for its own sake, neither takes up
Arms nor lays them down
Because the mob tells it so.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Virtue, rejecting everything that's sordid,
Shines with unblemished honor, nor takes up office
Nor puts it down persuaded by any shift
Of the popular wind.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Virtue, unconscious of disgraceful defeat,
shines with unsullied honors
nor does she raise up or lay down the Fasces
at the mere murmuring of the mob.
[tr. Willett (1998)]Virtue, that’s ignorant of sordid defeat,
shines out with its honour unstained, and never
takes up the axes or puts them down
at the request of a changeable mob.
[tr. Kline (2015)]Courage, unaware of putrid defeat,
gleams with unblemished honours,
and neither takes nor places the axes
on the judgement of the common ear.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
The man of firm and righteous will,
No rabble, clamorous for the wrong,
No tyrant’s brow, whose frown may kill,
Can shake the strength that makes him strong.[Iustum et tenacem propositi virum
non civium ardor prava iubentium,
non voltus instantis tyranni
mente quatit solida]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 3, l. 1ff (3.3.1-4) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:An honest and resolved man,
Neither a peoples tumults can,
Neither a Tyrants indignation,
Un-center from his fast foundation.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Not the rage of the people pressing to hurtful measures, not the aspect of a threatening tyrant can shake from his settled purpose the man who is just and determined in his resolution.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]He that is just, and firm of will
Doth not before the fury quake
Of mobs that instigate to ill,
Nor hath the tyrant's menace skill
His fixed resolve to shake.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Not the rage of the million commanding things evil,
Not the doom frowning near in the brows of the tyrant,
Shakes the upright and resolute man
In his solid completeness of soul.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Neither the fury of the populace, commanding him to do what is wrong, nor the face of the despot which confronts him, [...] shakes from his solid resolve a just and determined man.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]The just man, in his purpose strong,
No madding crowd can bend to wrong.
The forceful tyrant's brow and word,
[...] His firm-set spirit cannot move.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Him who is just, and stands to his purpose true.
Not the unruly ardour of citizens
Shall shake from his firm resolution,
Nor visage of the oppressing tyrant.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]The upright man holding his purpose fast,
No heat of citizens enjoining wrongful acts,
No overbearing despot's countenance,
Shakes from his firm-set mind.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]The man that's just and resolute of mood
No craze of people's perverse vote can shake,
Nor frown of threat'ning monarch make
To quit a purposed good.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]The man tenacious of his purpose in a righteous cause is not shaken from his firm resolve by the frenzy of his fellow citizens bidding what is wrong, not by the face of threatening tyrant.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Who loves the Right, whose will is resolute,
His purpose naught can shake — nor rage of brute
Mob bidding him work evil; nor the eye
Of threatening despot
[tr. Mills (1924)]A mob of citizens clamouring for injustice,
An autocrat's grimace of rage [...] cannot stagger
The just and steady-purposed man.
[tr. Michie (1963)]The man who knows what's right and is tenacious
In the knowledge of what he knows cannot be shaken.
Not by people righteously impassioned
In a wrong cause, and not by menacings
Of tyrants' frowns.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]The just man, tenacious in his resolve,
will not be shaken from his settled purpose
by the frenzy of his fellow citizens
imposing that evil be done,
or by the frown of a threatening tyrant.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]The passion of the public, demanding what
is wrong, never shakes the man of just and firm
intention, from his settled purpose,
nor the tyrant’s threatening face.
[tr. Kline (2015)]Neither the passion of citizens demanding crooked things,
Not the face of a threatening tyrant
Shakes the man who is righteous and set in purpose
From his strong mind.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
As wealth grows, worry grows, and thirst for more wealth.
[Crescentem sequitur cura pecuniam,
Maiorumque fames.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 16, l. 17ff (3.16.17-18) (23 BC) [tr. Michie (1963)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:With growing riches cares augment,
And thirst of greater.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Care still attends encreasing store,
And craving Appetite for more
[tr. Creech (1684)]As riches grow, care follows: men repine
And thirst for more.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Care, and a thirst for greater things, is the consequence of increasing wealth.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]But as wealth into our coffers flows in still increasing store,
So, too, still our care increases, and the hunger still for more.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Care grows with wealth, with wealth the greed for more.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]The care of wealth, together with the thirst for more, attend increasing riches.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]But care with growing treasure grows,
And thirst for more.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Wealth, the faster it grows, is but the prey of care,
And of lusting for more.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Care follows growing wealth, and thirst for more.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]As riches grow, care follows, and a thirst
For more and more.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Yet as money grows, care and greed for greater riches follow after.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Increase of wealth and greed bring on
Care.
[tr. Mills (1924)]But gold brings both greed and
Trouble on its back.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]The more the money grows the more the greed
Grows too; also the anxiety of greed.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]But with increasing wealth, follow
anxiety and greed for more and more.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Anxiety, and the hunger for more, pursues
growing wealth.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Happy the Man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heav’n it self upon the past has pow’r,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
[Ille potens sui
laetusque deget cui licet in diem
dixisse “Vixi: cras vel atra
nube polum pater occupato
vel sole puro; non tamen inritum
quodcumque retro est efficiet neque
diffinget infectumque reddet
quod fugiens semel hora vexit.”]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 29, l. 41ff (3.29.41-48) (23 BC) [tr. Dryden (1685)]
(Source)
"To Maecenas." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:He's Master of himself alone,
He lives, that makes each day his own:
He lives that can distinctly say
It is enough, for I have liv'd to day:
Let Jove to morrow smiling rise,
Or let dark Clouds spread o're the Skys:
He cannot make the pleasures void
Nor sower the sweets I have enjoy'd,
Nor call that back which winged hours have born away.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Happy he,
Self-centred, who each night can say,
“My life is lived: the morn may see
A clouded or a sunny day:
That rests with Jove: but what is gone,
He will not, cannot turn to nought;
Nor cancel, as a thing undone,
What once the flying hour has brought.
[tr. Conington (1872)]That man is master of himself and shall live happy, who has it in his power to say, "I have lived to-day: to-morrow let the Sire invest the heaven, either with a black cloud, or with clear sunshine; nevertheless he shall not render ineffectual what is past, nor undo or annihilate what the fleeting hour has once carried off.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Lord of himself that man will be,
And happy in his life alway.
Who still at eve can say with free
Contented soul, "I've lived to-day!
Let Jove to-morrow, if he will,
With blackest clouds the welkin fill,
Or flood it all with sunlight pure.
Yet from the past he cannot take
Its influence, for that is sure.
Nor can he mar, or bootless make
Whate'er of rapture and delight
The hours have borne us in their flight."
[tr. Martin (1864)]Happy indeed is he,
Lord of himself, to whom
’Tis given to say, as each day ends, “I have lived:”
To-morrow let the Sire invest the heaven
With darkest cloud or “purest ray serene,”
He mars not what has been,
Nor from Time's sum blots out one fleeted hour.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]That man will live in happiness and self-command who can say at the close of each day, "I have lived. To-morrow let the Great Father fill the sky with black cloud or bright sunshine, yet can he not make void that which is to come, nor cause that not to have been which the flying hour hath once carried away on its wings."
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Self-ruled, light-hearted shall he be,
Who daily 'I have lived,' can say,
Dark tempests let the Sire decree,
Or brightness, for the coming day.
Yet cannot he the bygone days
Unmake, or hold the past undone,
Nor can with utmost might erase
The work of hours whose glass is run.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]He will, his soul possessing, live joyfully,
Who, as each day goes by, can say, "I have liv'd;
To-morrow let th' Almighty Father
Either fill up with the darkling storm-cloud,
Or the pure sunlight! That which is past, e'en He
Cannot undo and cause to have never been,
Nor can He by his pow'r demolish
Bliss that the past fleeting hour has given."
[tr. Phelps (1897)]That man will be
Master of self, and pass in joy, who daily may
Declare "I have lived*: to-morrow let the Father
Encompass heaven, or with black cloud,
Or sunshine clear: still that which is behind
He will not render void nor forge anew
Nor make as though undone,
Whate'er the flying hour has once removed.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Self-centred he,
And blest, who can make boast each coming night
"This day I've lived." Or dark or bright
To-morrow's dawn may be,
As Jove shall please. But never deed that's done
Can ev'n high Heaven make as 'twere thing of naught;
Or act, by Time to issue brought,
Cancel as though 'twere none.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Master of himself and joyful will that man live who day by day can say: "I have lived to-day ; to-morrow let the Father fill the heaven with murky clouds, or radiant sunshine! Yet will he not render vain whatever now is past, nor will he alter and undo what once the fleeting hour has brought.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Lord of himself, and happy, will
He be, who can from day to day
Say, "I have lived; let Jove fulfill
Tomorrow's sky with leaden-grey
Clouds or with shine, he can't undo
What has been done, nor make as naught,
No, nor reforge and shape anew,
What once the flying hour has brought.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Call him happy
And lord of his own soul who every evening
Can say, "Today I have lived.
Tomorrow Jove may blot the sky with cloud
Or fill it with pure sunshine, yet he cannot
Devalue what has once been held as precious,
Or tarnish nor melt back
The gold the visiting hour has left behind."
[tr. Michie (1963)]A man is his own
Master, is happy, Maecenas, saluting
The sun and saying “Today I’ve been
Alive.” The gods can let tomorrow’s
Sky glow or be black with clouds,
But tomorrow's tomorrow, I've got what I've got,
Nothing I've had in my hands will be nothing,
Though time takes it.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Happy the man who has earned the right to say:
"I've lived my life. There may be storms tomorrow,
Maybe fair weather. Nobody knows for sure.
What I have had in the past cannot be taken
Away from me now."
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Master of himself and joyful
will that man live who is able
every day to say: "I have lived."
Tomorrow let the Father fill the sky
either with dark clouds or radiant sunshine.
But even he cannot undo that which is done
or render vain the past
or alter what the fleeting hour has once wrought.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]He’s happy, he’s his own master, who can say
each day: ‘I’ve lived: tomorrow, the Father may
fill the heavens with darkening cloud,
or fill the sky with radiant sunshine:
yet he can’t render whatever is past as
null and void, he can never seek to alter,
or return and undo, whatever
the fleeting moment tosses behind it.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
And now ’tis done: more durable than brass
My monument shall he, and raise its head
O’er royal pyramids: it shall not dread
Corroding rain or angry Boreas,
Nor the long lapse of immemorial time.
[Exegi monumentum aere perennius
regalique situ pyramidum altius,
quod non imber edax, non aquilo impotens
possit diruere aut innumerabilis
annorum series et fuga temporum.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, # 30, l. 1ff (3.30.1-5) (23 BC) [tr. Conington (1872)]
(Source)
Concluding ode from the 3rd Book, but interpreted as covering all three books of odes published to that date (there was a fourth book, but a significant intreval before he published a 4th). This sort of claim to literary immortality, while sounding a bit crazy to moderns, was not unusual in Roman (or Greek) writing.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:A Work out-lasting Brass, and higher
Then Regal Pyramids proud Spire,
I have absolv'd. Which storming windes,
The Sea that turrets undermines,
Tract of innumerable daies,
Nor the rout of time can raze.
[tr. Fanshawe, ed. Brome (1666)]'TIs finish't; I have rais'd a Monument
More strong than Brass, and of a vast extent:
Higher than Egypt's statelyest Pyramid,
That costly Monument of Kingly Pride;
As High as Heaven the top, as Earth the Basis wide:
Which eating showers, nor North wind's feeble blast,
Nor whirling Time, nor flight of Years can wast.
[tr. Creech (1684)]I have completed a monument more lasting than brass, and more sublime than the regal elevation of pyramids, which neither the wasting shower, the unavailing north wind, nor an innumerable succession of years, and the flight of seasons, shall be able to demolish.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]I've reared a monument, my own,
More durable than brass,
Yea, kingly pyramids of stone
In height it doth surpass.
Rain shall not sap, nor driving blast
Disturb its settled base.
Nor countless ages rolling past
Its symmetry deface.
[tr. Martin (1864)]I have built a monument than bronze more lasting,
Soaring more high than regal pyramids,
Which nor the stealthy gnawing of the rain-drop,
Nor the vain rush of Boreas shall destroy;
Nor shall it pass away with the unnumbered
Series of ages and the flight of time.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]I have built my mausoleum of more enduring material than brass, and loftier than the royal Pyramids. Neither corroding rain, the furious North wind, the recurring cycles of years, nor the flight of time, will be able to destroy it.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Now have I reared a monument more durable than brass,
And one that doth the royal scale of pyramids surpass,
Nor shall defeated Aquilo destroy, nor soaking rain,
Nor yet the countless tide of years, nor seasons in their train.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]I a statue have rear'd longer to live than brass,
And more lofty than height royal of Pyramids;
Which nor storm can devour, nor headlong Aquilo
Overwhelm, or the great series innum'rable
Of the years as they roll, and the swift flight of time.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]I have wrought out a monument more durable than bronze,
And higher than the regal structure of the Pyramids,
Which not corroding rain, nor blustering Aquilo
May overthrow, or the innumerable
Series of years, and flight of time.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]A monument I've achieved more strong than brass,
Soaring kings' pyramids to overpass;
Which not corroding raindrip shall devour,
Or winds that from the north sweep down in power,
Or years unnumbered as the ages flee!
[tr. Marshall (1908)]I have finished a monument more lasting than bronze and loftier than the Pyramids’ royal pile, one that no wasting rain, no furious north wind can destroy, or the countless chain of years and the ages’ flight.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Lo, I have reared a monument that bronze shall not outlast,
More lofty than the pyramids that despots piled of yore;
Its strength defies devouring rain, defies the ungoverned blast
Of Aquilo, the wind that blows from where the North seas roar;
It shall survive when the unnumbered tale of years is past,
When days and months have ceased to be, and Time shall be no more.
[tr. Mills (1924)]More durable than bronze, higher than Pharaoh’s
Pyramids is the monument I have made,
A shape that angry wind or hungry rain
Cannot demolish, nor the innumerable
Ranks of the years that march in centuries.
[tr. Michie (1963)]The monument I've made for myself will outlast
Brass, reaches higher than Egyptian
Kings and their pyramids; nothing can corrode it,
No rain, no wind, nor the endless years
Flying past.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Today I have finished a work outlasting bronze
And the pyramids of ancient royal kings.
The North Wind raging cannot scatter it
Nor can the rain obliterate this work,
Nor can the years, nor can the ages passing.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]I have erected a monument more durable than bronze,
loftier than the regal pile of pyramids
that cannot be destroyed either by
corroding rains or the tempestuous North wind
or the endless passage of the years
or the flight of centuries.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]I’ve raised a monument, more durable than bronze,
one higher than the Pyramids’ royal towers,
that no devouring rain, or fierce northerly gale,
has power to destroy: nor the immeasurable
succession of years, and the swift passage of time.
[tr. Kline (2015)]I constructed a monument of pyramids more durable than bronze
and higher than a royal site,
which the greedy rain, the raging North Wind
would not be able to tear apart or countless
series of years and flight of time.
[tr. Wikisource (2021)]
Best seed of gods, best keeper of the race
Of Romulus, thou art too long from home.
Thy word, giv’n in the Senate’s holy place,
Redeem that word, and come.
Restore, good Prince, thy country’s light of day,
For when thy visage dawns, like spring benign,
The hours more smoothly win their gracious way,
The suns more kindly shine.[Divis orte bonis, optume Romulae
custos gentis, abes iam nimium diu;
maturum reditum pollicitus patrum
sancto concilio redi.
lucem redde tuae, dux bone, patriae:
instar veris enim voltus ubi tuus
adfulsit populo, gratior it dies
et soles melius nitent.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 5, l. 1ff (4.5.1-8) (13 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
First two stanzas of an ode to Augustus, composed after the emperor had been on campaign in Germany and Gaul for 2½ years. The ode continues on lauding him for eight more stanzas. August returned to Rome that year.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Heavens choicest gift, Rome's greatest stay,
Now thou art too too long away:
The holy Senate urge thy word
For soon return, return. Afford,
Like day, thy presence; like the Spring
Give a new life to every thing:
The first, good Prince, our night will chace,
The second will prolong our dayes.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Great Hero's Son, Rome's gracious Lord,
How long shall we thy absence mourn!
Thy promis'd self at last afford,
Rome's sacred Senate begs: Return.
Great Sir restore your Country light;
When your auspitious beams arise,
Just as in Spring, the Sun's more bright,
And fairer days smile o're the Skys.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Best guardian of Rome's people, dearest boon
Of a kind Heaven, thou lingerest all too long:
Thou bad'st thy senate look to meet thee soon:
Do not thy promise wrong.
Restore, dear chief, the light thou tak'st away:
Ah! when, like spring, that gracious mien of thine
Dawns on thy Rome, more gently glides the day,
And suns serener shine.
[tr. Conington (1872)]O best guardian of the Roman people, born under propitious gods, already art thou too long absent; after having promised a mature arrival to the sacred council of the senators, return. Restore, O excellent chieftain, the light to thy country; for, like the spring, wherever thy countenance has shone, the day passes more agreeably for the people, and the sun has a superior lustre.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]From gods benign descended, thou,
Best guardian of the fates of Rome,
Too long already from thy home
Hast thou, dear chief, been absent now.
Oh, then, return, the pledge redeem
Thou gav'st the Senate, and once more
Its light to all the land restore;
For when thy face, like spring-tide's gleam,
Its brightness on the people sheds,
Then glides the day more sweetly by,
A brighter blue pervades the sky,
The sun a richer radiance spreads!
[tr. Martin (1864)]Best guardian of the race of Romulus,
And sprung thyself from deities benign,
Absent too long, fulfill thy promise, pledged
To Rome's high court -- return.
Bring to thy country back, belovéd chief,
The light: thy looks are to thy people Spring,
And where they smile, more grateful glides the day,
More genial shines the sun.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Most renowned Guardian of the Roman nation, sprung from the beneficent Gods, thou remainest absent too long. Fulfil thy promise to the Sacred Senate of a speedy return to us.
Restore the light, gracious Commander, to thy country, for when, like Spring, thy countenance has shone on the populace, the day goes round more happily, and the orb of the Sun has greater brilliancy.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]O Thou, sprung from good Gods, best of the Guardians
Of old Romulus' race ; thou art too long away,
After promise of thine, made in the Senators'
Sacred gathering, O return!
Bring back daylight, great chief, now to thy countrymen!
For, like spring's sweet return, when thy glad countenance
On thy people hath shone, days pass more pleasantly,
And the suns have a warmer glow.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]O Thou, arisen through good gods, best guardian of the race
Of Romulus, thine absence now is all too long:
Since to the Fathers' sacred council thou didst promise
Returning prompt -- return.
Restore its light, good leader, to thy fatherland.
For when thy face beams like the face of Spring,
Upon the people, gailier speeds the day.
And better shine the suns.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Born under kindly gods, best guardian thou
Of Romulus' race, absent art thou too long!
Promise of swift return thou gave the throng
Of thy high Senate, -- come then, now!
Restore, kind chief, light to this land of thine;
For when, like Spring, thou dost thy face display
For thy folk's joy, more sweetly goes the day,
And the new morns serener shine.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Sprung from the blessed gods, best guardian of the race of Romulus, too long already art thou absent. Come back, for thou didst pledge a swift return to the sacred council of the Fathers. To thy country give again, blest leader, the light of thy presence ! For when, like spring, thy face has beamed upon the folk, more pleasant runs the day, and brighter shines the sun.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]By grace of kind Gods born, best champion
Of Romulus' race, too long you stay from home;
Upon your promise to return anon
Our sacred Council rests; keep it, and come.
Give to your country back, dear Chief, your light,
For, when upon our folk your face has shone,
Like Spring, the very sunshine seems more bright,
Aye, and more pleasantly the days pass on.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Great guardian of the race of Romulus
Born when the gods were being good to us,
You have been absent now
Too long. You pledged your word
(The august Fathers heard)
To swift home-coming. Honour, then, that vow.
Restore, kind leader, to your countrymen
The light they lack. For like the sunshine when
It's springtime, where your face
Lights on the people, there
The weather turns to fair
And the day travels with a happier pace.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Augustus, born of the gods, Rome's
Best guardian, you've stayed away
Too long. Return, as you promised
Our pious Senate, come swiftly.v O noble prince, light up your country!
Whenever your face, like the Spring,
Shines on your people, that day is better,
That sun shines with more warmth.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Custodian of the people who descend
From Romulus, the grandsire and the founder
Of the city you ahve promised to return to,
O blessed guardian, shine upon your country.
For then the Roman day will be more pleasant,
The sunlight brighter, then it will be like spring.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]You of divine grace born, you,
best guardian of the Roman people,
too long already have you been absent!
O return to
the sacred counsel to the fathers!
For you have promised us an opportune return.
Come home, auspicious Prince, bring back
the light to your fatherland.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Son of the blessed gods, and greatest defender
of Romulus’ people, you’ve been away too long:
make that swift return you promised, to the sacred
councils of the City Fathers,
Blessed leader, bring light to your country again:
when your face shines on the people, like the shining
springtime, then the day itself is more welcoming,
and the sun beams down more brightly.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Yet new moons swift replace the seasons spent;
But when we forth are thrust,
Where old Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
Shadow are we and dust.
[Damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae:
nos ubi decidimus
quo pius Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus,
pulvis et umbra sumus.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 7, l. 13ff (4.7.13-16) (23 BC) [tr. Marshall (1908)]
(Source)
"To Torquatus." (Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:But the decays of time, Time doth repair:
When we once plunged are
Where good Aeneas, with rich Ancus wades,
Ashes we are, and shades.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]When we shall view the gloomy Stygian Shore,
And walk amongst the mighty Dead
Where Tullus, where Aeneas went before:
We shall be Dust, and empty shade.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Yet the swift moons repair Heaven's detriment:
We, soon as thrust
Where good Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus went,
What are we? dust.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Nevertheless the quick-revolving moons repair their wanings in the skies; but when we descend [to those regions] where pious Æneas, where Tullus and the wealthy Ancus [have gone before us], we become dust and a mere shade.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]But moons revolve, and all again is bright:
We, when we fall, as fell the good and just
Æneas, wealthy Tullus, Ancus wight,
Are but a nameless shade, and some poor grains of dust.
[tr. Martin (1864)]But the swift moons restore change and loss in the heavens,
When we go where have gone
Sire Æneas, and Tullus, and opulent Ancus,
We are dust and a shade.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]The swiftly-revolving Months however restore the gifts of the Seasons but we, when we have descended where good Æneas, wealthy Tullus, and Ancus, have gone, are dust and shadow.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]The hastening moons all waste in heaven repair:
We, when we once descend
To Tullus, Ancus, sire Aeneas, there
In dust and shadow end.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Yet the revolving Moons repair the losses of heaven;
But we, when once we have gone
Where pious Æneas, rich Tullus, and Ancus, have vanish'd,
Lo! dust and ashes are we!
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Still, rapid moving moons repair the heavenly losses:
We, when we fall
Whither the good Æneas fell, Tullus and Ancus rich,
Are dust and shadow.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Yet the swiftly changing moons repair their losses in the sky. We, when we have descended whither righteous Aeneas, whither rich Tullus and Ancus have gone, are but dust and shadow.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Yet, fast as moons wane in the sky, as fast
They wax; but we, poor mortals, when we fare
Whither Aeneas, Tullus, Ancus passed,
Are naught but dust here, naught but shadows there.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Moons make speed to repair their heavenly losses, but not so
We, who, when once we have gone
Downwards to join rich Tullus and Ancus and father Aeneas,
Crumble to shadow and dust.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Whatever the skies lose, quick-running
Months repair -- but men, good Aeneas
Or rich Tullus or Ancus king of Rome,
Die and turn to shadows, to dust.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Yet after a time, and time and time again,
The moon restores itself in the nighttime sky.
But when it's time for us to go down there
Where Aeneas went, the pious, and Tullus the rich,
And old King Ancus Martius, and all the others,
Then we're nothing but dust, we're nothing but shadows.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]And yet the swiftly phasing moons repair their celestial mishaps. While we, once descended where dwells pious Aeneas and wealthy Tullus and Ancus, dust and shadow are.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Yet swift moons are always repairing celestial losses:
while, when we have descended
to virtuous Aeneas, to rich Tullus and Ancus, our kings,
we’re only dust and shadow.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Will the gods grant a morrow for to-day?
No mortal can declare;
Give! all thou giv’st with open hand away
Escapes thy greedy heir.
Once thou art dead, once Minos on his bench
Thy doom for thee hath writ,
Birth, eloquence, devotion, nought can wrench
Thy spirit from the pit,
Torquatus!
[Quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae
tempora di superi?
Cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis amico
quae dederis animo.
Cum semel occideris et de te, splendida, Minos
fecerit arbitria,
non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te
restituet pietas.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 7, l. 17ff (4.7.17-24) (23 BC) [tr. Gladstone (1894)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Who knows if Iove unto thy life's past score
Will adde one morning more?
When thou art dead, and Rhadamanthus just
Sentence hath spoke thee dust,
Thy blood, nor eloquence can ransome thee,
No nor thy piety.
[tr. Fanshaw; ed. Brome (1666)]Who knows if stubborn Fate will prove so kind,
And joyn to this another day?
What e're is for thy greedy Heir design'd,
Will slip his Hands, and fly away:
When thou art gone, and Minos Sentence read,
Torquatus there is no return,
Thy Fame, nor all thy learned Tongue can plead,
Nor goodness shall unseal the Urn.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Can Hope assure you one more day to live
From powers above?
You rescue from your heir whate'er you give
The self you love.
When life is o'er, and Minos has rehearsed
The grand last doom,
Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst
Torquatus' tomb.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Who knows whether the gods above will add to this day’s reckoning the space of to-morrow? Every thing, which you shall indulge to your beloved soul, will escape the greedy hands of your heir. When once, Torquatus, you shall be dead, and Minos shall have made his awful decisions concerning you; not your family, not you eloquence, not your piety shall restore you.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Who knows, if they who all our Fates control,
Will add a morrow to thy brief to-day?
Then think of this, -- What to a friendly soul
Thy hand doth give shall 'scape thine heir's rapacious sway.
When thou, Torquatus, once hast vanish'd hence,
And o'er thee Minos' great decree is writ,
Nor ancestry, nor fire-lipp'd eloquence,
Nor all thy store of wealth to give thee back were fit.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Who knows if the gods will yet add a to-morrow
To the sum of to-day?
Count as saved from an heir's greedy hands all thou givest
To that friend -- thine own self.
When once dead, the resplendent tribunal of Minos
Having once pronounced doom,
Noble birth, suasive tongue, moral worth, O Torquatus,
Reinstate thee no more.
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Who can tell whether the Gods above will add an existence for us during to-morrow to that of to-day? All, however, thou mayest indulge thyself in will escape the greedy grasp of thy heir. When once thou hast fallen, and Minos shall have passed his impartial judgment upon thee, neither thy pedigree, Torquatus, thine eloquence, nor thy goodness, will restore thee back to earth.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Who can tell whether the Gods will add the hours of tomorrow
On to the sum of to-day?
All will escape your heir's greedy clutches, which with a friendly
Mind you have spent in your life.
For, when once thou hast died, and over thee Minos in judgment
Hath made his grand last award,
Then neither birth shall avail, Torquatus; nor eloquence bring thee
Back, nor thy fear of the Gods.
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Who knoweth if the gods above may add to-morrow's time
To this day's count?
All that thou givest to thy soul's delighting will escape
An heir's greedy hands.
When once thou'rt dead, and Minos o'er thee shall have made
August decision.
Not, O Torquatus, not thy birth, or flow of word, not piety,
Will reinstate thee.
[tr. Garnsey (1907)]Who knows that Heaven to this day's gift will please
To-morrow's sun to lend?
And all thy goods a greedy heir will seize,
Save what thyself did spend.
Once thou art dead, and Minos' high decree
Shall speak to seal thy doom
Though noble, pious, eloquent thou be,
These snatch not from the tomb.
[tr. Marshall (1908)]Who knows whether the gods will add to-morrow’s time to the sum of today ? All things which thou grantest to thine own dear soul, shall escape the greedy clutches of thine heir. When once thou hast perished and Minos has pronounced on thee his august judgment, not family, Torquatus, nor eloquence, nor righteousness shall restore thee again to life.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Who knows whether the gods who reign above
Add a new day's span to the sum of this?
Live while you live; that which the soul you love,
Your self, enjoys, your greedy heir will miss.
Once you are dead, once Minos, judge of men,
Has fixed by doom august your destiny,
Not rank, Torquatus, shall restore you then;
Not eloquence; not even piety.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Who knows whether the all-high gods intend an addition
Made to the sum of today?
Give to your own dear self: that gift is the only possession
Fingers of heirs cannot grasp.
Once you are dead, Torquatus, and Minos delivers his august
Verdict upon your affairs,
No blue blood, no good deeds done, no eloquent pleading
Ever shall conjure you back.
[tr. Michie (1963)]Who knows if the gods will add tomorrow's
Hours to your time today?
Whatever you give yourelf, here, now,
No greedy heir can clutch at.
Torquatus, once you're buried, once
The Lord of Death has judged you,
Nothing will bring you back, no ancient
Name, no noble words, no one's love.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Who knows whether tomorrow the gods will have
Anything more to give than they have given?
What you can give to your own dear heart today
Will not fall into the clutch of your heir tomorrow.
Torquatus, once you've died and Minos the judge
Has spoken his words down there, then neither rank
Nor eloquence nor virtue -- none of these --
Can ever bring you back to life again.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Who knows whether the celestial gods will add tomorrow’s time to the sum of today’s. All which you bestow upon your very own soul escapes the avid hands of your heir. Once you are dead and Minos has pronounced on you his solemn judgment, neither your noble origin, Torquatus, nor your eloquence, nor your piety will bring you back to life.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Who knows whether the gods above will add tomorrow’s hours
to the total of today?
All those you devote to a friendly spirit will escape from
the grasping hands of your heirs.
When once you’re dead, my Torquatus, and Minos pronounces
his splendid judgement on you,
no family, no eloquence, no righteousness even,
can restore you again.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
Oft before Agamemnon brave men warred;
But all unwept they lie in endless night,
Lacking, to deck their deeds with light,
Song of a heaven-taught bard.[Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
multi; sed omnes illacrimabiles
urgentur ignotique longa
nocte, carent quia vate sacro.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, # 9, l. 25ff (4.9.25-28) (23 BC) [tr. Marshall (1908)]
(Source)
"To Lollius." See also Gray.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Men slasht ere Diomed was made:
But all are in oblivion drown'd,
And put unmourn'd into the ground,
For lack of Sacred Poets aid.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]Before that Age a thousand liv'd,
And sent surprising Glories forth,
But none the silent Grave surviv'd;
In Night their Splendor's gone,
They fell, unmourn'd, unknown;
Because no Verse embalms their Worth.
[tr. Creech (1684)]Before Atrides men were brave:
But ah! oblivion, dark and long,
Has lock'd them in a tearless grave,
For lack of consecrating song.
[tr. Conington (1872)]Many brave men lived before Agamemnon: but all of them, unlamented and unknown, are overwhelmed with endless obscurity, because they were destitute of a sacred bard.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]Many, many have lived, who were valiant in fight,
Before Agamemnon; but all have gone down,
Unwept and unknown, in the darkness of night,
For lack of a poet to hymn their renown.
[tr. Martin (1864)]Many brave men have lived long before Agamemnon,
But o’er them darkly presses the slumber eternal;
All unwept and unknown, wanting Him --
Everlastingly sacred -- the Bard!
[tr. Bulwer-Lytton (1870)]Many brave men lived before Agamemnon, but all like crushed under eternal obvlivion, unknown to us and unwept by us, because no bard hath immortalized them.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]Ere Agamemnon saw the light
There lived brave men: but tearless all,
Enfolded in eternal night,
For lack of sacred minstrels, fall.
[tr. Gladstone (1894)]Brave men before the great Agamemnon's time
Liv'd many, but in tearless oblivion
And night, unknown and unlamented
Lie they, for want of a sacred poet
[tr. Phelps (1897)]Prior to Agamemnon lived many who were brave,
But all unwept, unknown.
In endless night are plunged because
They lack a bard divine.v [tr. Garnsey (1907)]Many heroes lived before Agamemnon ; but all are overwhelmed in unending night, unwept, unknown, because they lack a sacred bard.
[tr. Bennett (Loeb) (1912)]Before the age of Agamemnon wight
Lived many a hero, but unwept, unknown,
Because no sacred bard hymned their renown,
They, one and all, lie whelmed in endless night.
[tr. Mills (1924)]Many brave men lived before Agamemnon,
But all went down unmourned, unhouured, into the smothering darkness
For lack of a minstrel to be their glory-giver.
[tr. Michie (1963)]There were heroes before Agamemnon
Was born -- but who knows them? Unmourned,
They lie buried in eternal darkness,
Sung by no sacred song.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]Heroes have lived before Agamemnon lived,
But all of them are lost somewhere in the night,
Unwept, unkonwn, unless they had a poet
To tell what was their story.
[tr. Ferry (1997)]Many brave men
Llived before Agamemnon.
But all of them, unwept and unknown,
are shrouded in eternal night
for lack of a sacred bard.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]Many brave men lived before Agamemnon:
but all are imprisoned in unending night,
all of them are unwept and unknown,
because of the lack of a sacred bard.
[tr. Kline (2015)]
We rarely find anyone who can say he has lived a happy life, and who, content with his life, can retire from the world like a satisfied guest.
[Inde fit ut raro, qui se vixisse beatum
dicat et exacto contentus tempore vita
cedat uti conviva satur, reperire queamus.]
Why are you laughing? Just change the name, and the story could be told of you.
[Quid rides? Mutato nomine de te / fabula narratur.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Sermonum, I.1.69Sometimes "... fabula de te narratur."
Alternate translations:
- "Do you but change the name / Of you is saide the same."
- "Change but the name, of you the tale is told."
- "Change only the name and this story is also about you."
- "Change but the name, and the tale is told of you."
- "What are you laughing at? Just change the name and the joke's on you."
- "You laugh? Well, just change the name and you'll find that this story, / as a matter of fact, means YOU." (tr. S.P. Bovie (2002))