ODE XXIX The Scholar Turned Adventurer Iccius, art thou looking now with envious eye at the rich treasures of the Arabians, and making ready for dire warfare on Sabaean kings as yet unconquered, and art thou forging fetters for the dreadful Mede? What barbarian maiden, her lover slain by thee, shall become thy slave? What page from royal halls, with perfumed locks, shall be thy cup-bearer, taught with his father's bow to speed the arrows of the East? Who'll deny that the descending streams can glide backwards to the lofty hills and the Tiber reverse its course, when thou, that gavest promise of better things, art bent on changing Panaetius' famous books, purchased from every quarter, and the Socratic school for Spanish corselets? XXX O VENVS, regina Cnidi Paphique, sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantis ture te multo Glycerae decoram transfer in aedem. fervidus tecum puer et solutis Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae et parum comis sine te Iuventas Mercuriusque. ODE XXX Invocation to Venus O VENUS, queen of Cnidos and of Paphos, forsake thy beloved Cyprus and betake thyself to the fair shrine of Glycera, who summons thee with bounteous incense! And with thee let hasten thy ardent child; the Graces, too, with girdles all unloosed, the Nymphs, and Youth, unlovely without thee, and Mercury! XXXI QVID dedicatum poscit Apollinem vates? quid orat, de patera novum fundens liquorem? non opimae Sardiniae segetes feraces, non aestuosae grata Calabriae armenta, non aurum aut ebur Indicum, non rura, quae Liris quieta mordet aqua taciturnus amnis. prcmant Calena falce quibus dedit Fortuna vitem, dives ut aureis mercator exsiccet culillis vina Syra reparata merce, dis carus ipsis, quippe ter et quater frui paratis et valido mihi, degere nec cithara carentem. 10 20 ODE XXXI The Poet's Prayer WHAT is the poet's prayer to the newly enshrined Apollo? For what is his petition as he pours new wine from the bowl? Not for the rich harvests of fertile Sardinia, not for the pleasant herds of hot Calabria, not for Indian gold or ivory, nor for the fields that the Liris' silent stream frets with its placid flow. Let those to whom Fortune has vouchsafed it, trim the vine with Calenian pruning-knife, that the rich trader may drain from golden chalice the wine for which he barters Syrian wares, dear to the very gods, since thrice and four times yearly he revisits all unscathed the Atlantic main. My fare is the olive, the endive, and the wholesome mallow. Grant me, O Latona's son, to be content with what I have, and, sound of body and of mind, to pass an old age lacking neither honour nor the lyre! |