ODE XXXVIII. TO HIS SERVANT. He forewarns him against any extravagant doings at his entertainment. BOY, I detest the pomp of the Persians: chaplets, which are woven with the *Philyra displease me: by no means hunt for the place where the latter rose abides. It is my particular desire that you make no laborious addition to the plain myrtle; for myrtle is neither unbecoming you a servant, nor me, while I quaff under this mantling vine. * Philyra: : a thin membrane between the bark and the wood of the Tilia, or Linden-tree, which they made use of by way of riband in their chaplets, &c. Q. HORATII FLACCI CARMINUM LIBER II. CARMEN I. AD ASINIUM POLLIONEM. Hortatur ut, intermissis tragœdiis, det se totum scribenda bellorum civilium historiæ. MOTUM ex Metello consule civicum, Nondum expiatis* uncta cruoribus, *Tincta cruoribus. 5 THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE I. TO ASINIUS POLLIO. He entreats him to quit tragedy for the present, that he may apply himself wholly to the history of the civil wars. YOU are treating of the civil commotion which began in the consulship of Metellus, and the causes of the war, and the crimes that were committed, and the measures that were taken, and the sport of fortune, and the pernicious confederacy of the chiefs, and arms stained with blood not yet expiated, a work full of hazardous consequence: and you are treading upon fires hid under * The triumvirate of Octavius, Lepidus, and Antony. Paulùm severe Musa tragœdiæ Cecropio repetes cothurno, Insigne moestis præsidium reis, Jam nunc minaci murmure cornuum Terret equos, equitumque vultus. Et cuncta terrarum subacta, Præter atrocem animum Catonis. Quis non Latino sanguine pinguior Campus sepulchris impia prælia. Quis gurges, aut quæ flumina lugubris Quæ caret ora cruore nostro? Sed ne relictis, Musa procax, jocis, Mecum Dionæo sub antro Quære modos leviore plectro. * Videre magnos, Bentl. Cunn., 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 deceitful ashes: Let therefore the muse that presides over severe tragedy be for a while absent from the theatres: shortly, when you shall have regulated the public affairs, you shall resume your great work in the tragic style, O Pollio, you excellent succour to melancholy defendants and a consulting senate; Pollio, to whom the laurel produced immortal honours in the Dalmatian triumph. Even now you stun our ears with the threatening murmur of horns: now the clarions sound; now the glitter of arms affrights the flying steeds, and dazzles the sight of the riders. Now I seem to see great commanders besmeared with glorious dust, and the whole earth subdued, except the stubborn soul of Cato. Juno, and every other god propitious to the Africans, impotently went off, leaving that land unrevenged; but soon offered the descendants of the conquerors as sacrifices to the manes of Jugurtha. What plain, enriched by Latin blood, bears not record, by its numerous sepulchres, of our impious battles, and of the sound of the downfal of Italy, heard even by the Medes? What pool, what rivers, are unconscious of our deplorable war? What sea have not the Daunian slaughters discoloured? What shore is not stained by our blood? But do not, rash muse, neglecting your jocose. strains, resume the task of Cæan plaintive song, but rather seek with me for measures of a lighter style, beneath some love-sequestered grotto. |