Thursday, March 10, 2011

Horace, Ode 3.21

O nata mecum consule Manlio,
seu tu querelas sive geris iocos
seu rixam et insanos ameres
seu facilem, pia testa, somnum,

quocumque lectum nomine Massicum
servas, moveri digna bono die,
descende Corvino iubente
promere languidiora vina.

Non ille, quamquam Socraticis madet
sermonibus, te negleget horridus:
narratur et prisci Catonis
saepe mero caluisse virtus.

Tu lene tormentum ingenio admoves
plerumque duro; tu sapientium
curas et arcanum iocoso
consilium retegis Lyaeo;

tu spem reducis mentibus anxiis
viresque et addis cornua pauperi,
post te neque iratos trementi
regum apcies neque militum arma.

Te Liber et si laeta aderit Venus
senesque nodum slovere Gratiae
vivaeque producent lucernae,
dum rediens fugat astra Phoebus.

Oh pious jar, born by consul Manlius with me,
whether you carry complaints with jokes
or a fight and insane loves
or easy sleep,

You preserve select Massic wine under whatever
pretext, worthy to be brought down on an auspicious day,
descend by Corvinus ordering
to bring out a fainter wine.

That one, although he is wet with Socratic
speeches, will not be so austere as to neglect you:
and the virtue of ancient Cato is often said
to have grown warm with wine.

You apply a twist of the arm with an
unusually harsh nature; you reveal the problems
of philosophers and secret
debates to funny Bacchus;

you restore hope to anxious minds
and you increase strength and horns for the poor,
after you trembling at neither the angry crowns
of kings nor the weapons of soldiers.

Liber and Venus, if she arrives happy,
and the Graces slow to break their clasp
and the oil lamps alight will prolong you,
while Phoebus returning will chase away the stars.

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