Nations, who quaff the rapid stream,

Where deep the Danube rolls his wave; The Parthians, of perfidious fame,

The Getæ fierce, and Seres brave,

And they, on Tanaïs who wide extend,
Shall to the Julian laws reluctant bend.

Our wives, and children share our joy,
With Bacchus' jovial blessings gay;
Thus we the festal hours employ,

Thus grateful hail the busy day;

But first, with solemn rites the gods adore, And, like our sires, their sacred aid implore;

Then vocal, with harmonious lays

To Lydian flutes, of cheerful sound,
Attemper'd sweetly, we shall raise

The valiant deeds of chiefs renown'd,
Old Troy, Anchises, and the godlike race
Of Venus, blooming with immortal grace.

END OF ODES.

E PODE S.

E PODE S.

EPODE I.

то MECENAS.

WHILE you, Maecenas, dearest friend,

Would Cæsar's person with your own defend:

And Antony's high-towered fleet,

With light, Liburnian gallies fearless meet,

What shall forsaken Horace do,

Whose every joy of life depends on you?
With thee, 'tis happiness to live,

And life, without thee, can no pleasure give.
Shall I th' unkind command obey,

And idly waste my joyless hours away;

Or, as becomes the brave, embrace

The glorious toil, and spurn the thoughts of peace?

I will; and over Alpine snow,

Or savage Caucasus intrepid go;

Or follow, with undaunted breast,

Thy dreadful warfare to the farthest west.

You ask, what aid I can afford,

A puny warrior; novice to the sword;