No-one is so savage that he cannot soften.
[Nemo adeo ferus est ut non mitescere possit.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
Quotations by:
Horace
To know all things is not permitted.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
Adversity has the effect of eliciting talents, which in prosperous circumstances would have lain dormant.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
A jest often decides matters of importance more effectively and happily than seriousness.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
He will always be a slave who does not know how to live upon a little.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
(Attributed)
Whatever advice you give, be short.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Ars Poetica (c. 18 BC)
Struggling to be brief
I become obscure.[Brevis esse laboro,
obscurus fio.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Ars Poetica, l. 25 (c. 18 BC)
Alt. trans.: "Aiming at brevity, I become obscure."
I am displeased when sometimes even the worthy Homer nods
[Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Ars Poetica, l. 359 (c. 18 BC)
Source of the expression, "Even Homer nods" (i.e., nobody one is perfect, even the wisest make mistakes).
You may drive out Nature with a pitchfork, yet she wil still hurry back.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, 1.10
One overmuch elated with success
A change of fortune plunges in distress.Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, 1.10 [ed. Kraemer, Jr (1936)]
To flee vice is the beginning of virtue, and to have got rid of folly is the beginning of wisdom.
[Virtus est vitium fugere et sapientia prima stultitia caruisse.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 1, l. 41 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
He ’s armed without that’s innocent within.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 1, l. 94 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC) [tr. Pope]
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.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 12, l. 4 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
He who feared that he would not succeed sat still.
[Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 17, l. 37 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
And, once sent out, a word takes wing beyond recall.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 18, l. 71 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
When your neighbor’s wall is on fire, it becomes your business.
[Num tua res agitur paries cum proximus ardet.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 18, l. 84 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
Alt trans.: "It is your concern when your neighbor's wall is on fire."
The covetous man is ever in want.
[Semper avarus eget.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 2, l. 56 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
Anger is momentary madness, so control your passion or it will control you.
[Ira furor brevis est: animum rege: qui nisi paret imperat.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 2, l. 62 (c. 20 BC and 14 BC)
Alt. trans.: "Anger is a short madness." "Anger is a short-lived madness." "Anger is a brief lunacy."
Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise.
[Dimidium facti qui coepit habet; sapere aude; incipe!]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 1, Epistle 2, ll. 39-40 [tr. Cowley]
Alt. trans.: "He who has begun has half done. Dare to be wise; begin!"
The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
[Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Epistles, Book 2, ep. 2, l. 56 (c. 20-14 BC)
Alt. trans.: "The passing years steal one thing after another"
Pope's translation: "Years following years steal something every day; / At last they steal us from ourselves away."
He will through life be master of himself and a happy man who from day to day can have said, “I have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.”
[Ille potens sui
laetusque deget, cui licet in diem
dixisse “vixi: cras vel atra
nube polum pater occupato
vel sole puro.”]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina] Book 3, Ode 24, l. 41 (c. 23 BC and 13 BC)
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)]
For country ’tis a sweet and seemly thing
To die.[Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 3, Ode 2, l. 13
Alt trans:
- "Sweet and glorious it is to die for our country." [J. C. Elgood, The Works of Horace]
Many brave men lived before Agamemnon, but all unwept and unknown they sleep in endless night, for they had no poets to sound their praises.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Odes [Carmina], Book 4, Ode 9, l. 25
Alt. trans.: "Brave men were living before Agamemnon."
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.]Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Satires, Book 1, Satire 1, l. 117 (c. 35 BC)
Life grants nothing to us mortals without hard work.
[Nil sine magno vita labore dedit mortalibus.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Satires, Book 1, Satire 9, l. 59 (c. 35 BC)
In peace, as a wise man, he should make suitable preparation for war.
[In pace, ut sapiens, aptarit idonea bello.]
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Satires, Book 2, Satire 2
A host is like a general. It takes a mishap to reveal his genius.
Horace (65-8 BC) Roman poet and satirist [Quintus Horacius Flaccus]
Satires, Book II, Satire 8 (35 BC)
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.1.69
Sometimes "... 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))