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Rerumque prudens, et secundis
Temporibus dubiisque rectus;
Vindex avarae fraudis, et abstinens
Ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniae :
Consulque non unius anni,

Sed quoties bonus atque fidus
Judex. honestum praetulit utili,
Rejecit alto dona nocentium
Vultu, per obstantes catervas
Explicuit, sua victor arma.
Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Recte beatum. Rectius occupat
Nomen beati, qui deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,
Pejusque leto flagitium timet:
Non ille pro caris amicis

Aut patria timidus perire.


O CRUDELIS adhuc, et Veneris muneribus potens, Insperata tuae cum veniet pluma superbiae,

And fallen are the ringlets now adown your shoulders


And colours, brightlier than the flower of damask roses glowing,

Exchanged for a bewrinkled face shall, Ligurine, be, 'Ah!' you will cry, as in the glass your other self you see, 'Why, as a girl I felt, do I not feel to-day again? Or why since thus I feel are not my cheeks the same as then?'

Does Phyllis here mean anybody in particular? It is not at all unlikely, as some commentator has supposed, that this Ode was sent to Maecenas on his birthday, and was thrown into the form of an address to Phyllis for poetical convenience only.

AMPHORA full of wine from Alban uplands
Past its ninth year I have: and in my garden,
Phyllis, is parsley for entwining garlands,

And, in abundance,

Ivy wherewith, bright girl, to wreathe your tresses : Silver my dwelling garnishes: the altar,

Bound with chaste vervain, with a lambkin's life-blood

Longs to be sprinkled.

All hands are busied: mixed with one another
Hither and thither lads and lasses running:
Crackles the fire, and from its apex belches

Volumes of smoke-cloud.

That you may know to what you are invited—
What the regale-you are to keep the thirteenth

Et quae nunc humeris involitant, deciderint comae, Nunc et qui color est puniceae flore prior rosae, Mutatus, Ligurine, in faciem verterit hispidam: Dices, Heu! (quotiens te speculo videris alterum) Quae mens est hodie, cur eadem non puero fuit? Vel cur his animis incolumes non redeunt genae?


EST mihi nonum superantis annum
Plenus Albani cadus; est in horto,
Phylli, nectendis apium coronis;
Est hederae vis

Multa, qua crines religata fulges;
Ridet argento domus; ara castis
Vincta verbenis avet immolato
Spargier agno;

Cuncta festinat manus, huc et illuc
Cursitant mixtae pueris puellae ;
Sordidum flammae trepidant rotantes
Vertice fumum.

Ut tamen noris quibus advoceris
Gaudiis, Idus tibi sunt agendae,

Day that cleaves April, month to sea-born Venus
Sacred, in sunder.

Day to me solemn and almost more sacred
Than my own birthday; seeing that Maecenas
Reckons from its irradiance his primal

Annual epoch.

Telephus whom you aim at, though a stripling
Not of your grade, is taken with a damsel
Wealthy and wanton, who in welcome fetters
Captive detains him.

Phaethon's flaming death, from hopes ambitious,
Frights; and winged Pegasus, to bear disdaining
Rider earthborn, Bellerophon, has given

Terrible warning

Ever to follow proper ends and turn from
Match disproportioned, holding it a crime to
Hope for what fate allows you not. So come now,
Last of my dear ones,

(For again ne'er shall I for other woman

Burn,) and with me learn measures which your lovely Voice may recite. By singing will be lightened

Gloomy forebodings.

Qui dies mensem Veneris marinae
Findit Aprilem ;

Jure sollemnis mihi sanctiorque

Paene natali proprio, quod ex hac
Luce Maecenas meus adfluentes
Ordinat annos.

Telephum, quem tu petis, occupavit,
Non tuae sortis juvenem, puella
Dives et lasciva, tenetque grata
Compede vinctum.

Terret ambustus Phaethon avaras
Spes; et exemplum grave praebet ales
Pegasus, terrenum equitem gravatus


Semper ut te digna sequare, et ultra
Quam licet sperare nefas putando,
Disparem vites. Age jam, meorum
Finis amorum-

Non enim posthac alia calebo
Femina condisce modos, amanda
Voce quos reddas; minuentur atrae
Carmine curae.

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