Monday, April 18, 2011

Horace, Carmen Saeculare

Phoebe silvarumque potens Diana,
lucidum caeli decus, o colendi
semper et culti, date quae precamur
tempore sacro,

quo Sibyllini monuere versus
virgines lectas puerosque castos
dis quibus septem placuere colles
dicere carmen.

Alme Sol, curru nitido diem qui
promis et celas aliusque et idem
nasceris, possis nihil urbe Roma
visere maius!

Rite maturos aperire partus
lenis, Ilithyia, tuere matres,
sive tu Lucina probas vocari
seu Genitalis.

Diva, producas subolem patrumque
prosperes decreta super iugandis
feminis prolisque novae feraci
lege marita,

certus undenos deciens per annos
orbis ut cantus referatque ludos
ter die claro totiensque grata
nocte frequentis.

Vosque veraces cecinisse, Parcae,
quod semel dictum est, stabilisque rerum
terminus servet, bona iam peractis
iungite fata.

Fertilis frugum pecorisque tellus
spicea donet Cererem corona;
nutriant fetus et aquae salubres
et Iovis aurae.

Condito mitis placidusque telo
supplices audi pueros, Apollo;
siderum regina bicornis, audi,
Luna, puellas.

Roma si vestrum est opus Iliaeque
litus Etruscum tenuere turmae,
iussa pars mutare Lares et urbem
sospite cursu,

cui per ardentem sine fraude Troiam
castus Aeneas patriae superstes
liberum munivit iter, daturus
plura relictis,

di, probos mores docili iuventae,
di, senectuti placidae quietem,
Romulae genti date remque prolemque
et decus omne.

Quaeque vos bubus veneratur albis
clarus Anchisae Venerisque sanguis,
impetret, bellante prior, iacentem
lenis in hostem.

Iam mari terraque manus potentis
Medus Albanasque timet securis,
iam Scyythae responsa petunt superbi
nuper et Indi.

Iam Fides et Pax et Honos Pudorque
priscus et neglecta redire Virtus
audet, apparetque beata pleno
Copia cornu.

Augur et fulgente decorus arcu
Phoebus acceptusque novem Camenis,
qui salutari levat arte fessos
corporis artus,

si Palatinas videt aequus aras,
remque Romanam Latiumque felix
alterum in lustrum meliusque semper
prorogat aevum;

quaeque Aventinum tenet Algidumque,
quindecim Diana preces virorum
curat et votis puerorum amicas
applicat auris.

Haec Iovem sentire deosque cunctos
spem bonam certamque domum reporto,
doctus et Phoebi chorus et Dianae
dicere laudes.

Phoebus and Diana, ruler of the forests,
shining glory of heaven, oh you to be worshiped
and must always be worshiped, give that which we pray for
in this sacred time,

when the Sabylline verses advised
the chosen virgins and pure boys
to sing a song for the gods for whom the seven
hills are pleasing.

Nourishing Sol, you who brings forth and conceals the day
with your shining chariot, and are born another and
the same, may you be able to see nothing greater
than the city of Rome!

Duly gentle to uncover timely
births, Ilithyia, watch over mothers,
whether you assent to be called Lucina
or Genitalis.

Goddess, may you bring forth offspring and bless
the decrees of our fathers over marriage to
women, and the law on marriage with new
fruitful offspring,

so that the fixed orbit of ten times eleven years
may bring back songs and games
crowded three times in the bright day and as often
in the pleasing night.

And you, Fates, truthful to have sung
that which had once been fixed, and may the
boundary of stable things keep it (so), now join
good fates with completed ones.

May the earth, fertile in fruits and the herd,
present Ceres with a crown of grain;
may the healthy rains and breezes of Jove
nourish the harvest.

Apollo, gentle and calm, with your weapon
put away, hear the suppliant youths;
Luna, two-horned queen of stars, hear
the girls.

If Rome is your work and Ilian
troops held the Etruscan shore,
a part ordered to change their home and city
in a safe course,

for whom chaste Aeneas, survivor of the fatherland,
built a way for freedom through burning Troy
without trickery, about to give more (good things)
than those left behind:

gods, grant honest manners to the docile youth,
gods, grant peace in the calm of old age,
grant resources and offspring and every honor
to the race of Romulus.

And that which, with white bulls, the bright
family of Anchises and Venus asks of you,
superior to the warring one, gentle to the
fallen enemy.

Now the Parthian fears our troops, lords of
sea and land, and the axes of Alba,
now the Scythians and the Indi, haughty until recently,
seek answers.

Now Faith and Peace and Honor and ancient
Modesty and neglected Virtue dare to
return and blessed Plenty, with a full horn,
makes an appearance.

Phoebus, prophet decorated with a gleaming
bow and dear to the nine Muses,
who, with his saving art, relieves the tired
limbs of the body,

if he kindly looks on the altars on the Palatine,
and and always prolongs Roman strength and
the prosperity of Latium for a further cycle and
to a better age,

and Diana, she who holds Aventine and Algidus,
attends to the prayers of the fifteen men
and places friendly ears nears the
appeals of the youth.

So that Jupiter and all the gods perceive these
(words), I carry back home a good and sure hope,
I and the chorus taught to tell the praises of
Phoebus and of Diana.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Horace, Ode 4.1

Intermissa, Venus, diu
rursus bella moves? Parce, precor, precor.
Non sum qualis eram bonae
sub regno Cinarae. Desine, dulcium

mater saeva Cupidinum,
circa lustra decem flectere mollibus
iam durum imperiis: abi,
quo blandae iuvenum te revocant preces.

Tempestivius in domum
Pauli, purpureis ales oloribus,
comissabere Maximi,
si torrere iecur quaeris idoneum.

Namque et nobilis et decens
et pro sollicitis non tacitus reis
et centum puer artium
late signa feret militiae tuae;

et quandoque potentior
largi muneribus riserit aemuli,
Albanos prope te lacus
ponet marmoream sub trabe citrea.

Illic plurima naribus
duces tura, lyraeque et Berecyntiae
delectabere tibiae
mixtis carminibus non sine fistula;

illic bis pueri die
numen cum teneris virginibus tuum
laudantes pede candido
in morem Salium ter quatient humum.

Me nec femina nec puer
iam nec spes animi credula mutui
nec certare iuvat mero
nec vincire novis tempora floribus.

Sed cur heu, Ligurine, cur
manat rara meas lacrima per genas?
Cur facunda parum decoro
inter verba cadit lingua silentio?

Nocturnis ego somniis
iam captum teneo, iam volucrem sequor
te per gramina Martii
campi, te per aquas, dure, volubilis.

Venus, are you again moving
the wars stopped for a long time? Spare me, I pray, I pray.
I am not the kind which I was
under the rule of good Cinara. Cease, savage

mother of sweet Cupids,
to now soften the hard one about fifty
to your gentle commands: go forth
to where the gentle prayers of youths call you back.

You will more timely carouse,
winged by purple swans, to the
house of Paulus Maximus,
if you seek a suitable liver to burn.

For a boy noble and pleasant
and not silent on behalf of worried defendants
and of one hundred skills
will bear your military standard far;

and at whatever time he, more powerful,
laughs at the gifts of a lavish rival,
he will put a marble you (or statue of you)
under a citrus-wood roof near the Alban lake.

There, you will lead to your nostrils
the greatest frankincenses, and you will delight in the
songs mixed with the Phrygian pipe
and the flute not without the pan-pipe;

There the boys with the
tender virgins praising your divinity twice a day
will shake the earth
three times in the Salian custom.

Now, neither a woman nor a boy
nor the trusting hope of a mutual spirit
nor to struggle with wine
nor to bind the times with fresh flowers is pleasing to me.

But alas, why, Ligurinus, why
does a rare tear flow down my cheeks?
Why does my elegant speech
fall to an unbecoming silence among words ?

Now I hold you, unfeeling,
caught in my dreams at night, now I follow you
flying through the grassy
Martius field, through rolling seas.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Horace, Epistle 1.2

Troiani belli scriptorem, Maxime Lolli,
dum tu declamas Romae, Praeneste relegi;
qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
planius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit.
Cur ita crediderim, nisi quid te detinet, audi.
Fabula, qua Paridis propter narratur amorem
Graecia barbariae lento collisa duello,
stultorum regum et populorum continet aestus.
Antenor censet belli praecidere causam:
quid Paris? Ut salvus regnet vivatque beatus
cogi posse negat. Nestor componere litis
inter Peliden festinat et inter Atriden;
hunc amor, ira quidem communiter urit utrumque.
Quicquid delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi.
Seditione, dolis, scelere, atque libidine et ira,
Iliacos intra muros peccatur et extra.
Rursus, quid virtus et quid sapientia possit,
utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulixen;
qui, domitor Troiae, multorum providus urbes
et mores hominum inspexit, latumque per aequor,
dum sibi, dum sociis reditum parat, aspera multa
pertulit, adversis rerum immersabilis undis.
Sirenum voces et Circae poscula nosti;
quae si cum sociis stultus cupidusque bibisset,
sub domina meretrice fuisset turpis et excors
vixisset canis immundus vel amica luto sus.
Nos numerus sumus et fruges consumere nati,
sponsi Penelopae nebulones, Alcinoique
in cute curanda plus aequo operata iuventus,
cui pulchrum fuit in medios dormire dies et
ad strepitum citharae cessantem ducere somnum.
Ut iugulent hominem, surgunt de nocte latrones;
ut te ipsum serves, non expergisceris? Atqui
si noles sanus, curres hydropicus; et ni
posces ante diem librum cum lumine, si non
intendes animum studiis et rebus honestis,
invidia vel amore vigil torquebere. Nam cur
quae laedunt oculum festinas demere; si quid
est animum, differs curandi tempus in annum?
Dimidium facti qui coepit habet: sapere aude:
incipe. Qui recte vivendi prorogat horam,
rusticus exspectat dum defluat amnis; at ille
labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.
Quaeritur argentum puerisque beata creandis
uxor et incultae pacantur vomere silvae;
quod satis est cui contingit, nihil amplius optet.
Non domus et fundus, non aeris acervus et auri
aegroto domini deduxit corpore febris,
non animo curas; valeat possessor oportet,
si comportatis rebus bene cogitat uti.
Qui cupit aut metuit, iuvat illum sic domus et res,
ut lippum pictae tabulae, fomenta podagram,
auriculas citharae colelcta sorde dolentes.
Sincerum est nisi vas, quodcumque infundis acescit.
Sperne voluptates; nocet empta dolore voluptas.
Semper avarus eget; certum voto pete finem.
Invidus alterius macrescit rebus opimis;
invidia Siculi non invenere tyranni
maius tormentum. Qui non moderabitur irae,
infectum volet esse dolor quod suaserit et mens,
dum poenas odio per vim festinat inulto.
Ira furor brevis est: animum rege, qui nisi paret,
imperat; hunc frenis, hunc tu compesce catena.
Fingit equum tenera docilem cervice magister
ire viam qua monstret eques; venaticus ex quod
tempore cervinam pellem latravit in aula,
militat in silvis catulus. Nun adbibe puro
pectore verba puer, nun te melioribus offer.
Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem
testa diu. Quodsi cessas aut strenuus anteis,
nec tardum opperior nec praecedentibus insto.

While you have been declaiming in Rome, Lollius Maximus,
I have been rereading the author of the Trojan War in Praeneste;
he who says that which is noble, which is disgraceful, which is useful, which is not,
better and more clearly than Chrysippus and Crantor.
Listen, because I have thus trusted, unless something has drawn you away.
The story, which narrates the Greeks, crushed by long
war with a barbaric people, because of the love of Paris,
maintains the passions of foolish kings and peoples.
Antenor moves to cut back the cause of the war:
what about Paris? So that he may safely rule and happily live,
he refuses to be able to be compelled. Nestor hastens to put together
the quarrels among Agamemnon and among Achilles;
love burns this one, indeed anger burns generally on both sides.
Whatever kings rage (about), the Acheans are punished.
While fighting, with tricks, with crime, and desire and anger,
there is sin among the Trojan walls and beyond.
On the other hand, he is able with anything virtuous and anything wise,
to display a helpful example to us by Odysseus;
the conqueror of Troy, he who prophetically considered the
cities of many and the customs of men, and carried through the sea,
while he obtained a return for himself and for his companions, he carried
them through many rough places, unsinkable by adverse waves of affairs.
You summon the Siren and the cup of Circe to us;
which if he had drank with his companions with foolish eagerness,
he would have become disgraceful as a courtesan under a mistress and,
stupid, unclean, he would have lived as dog or a swine friendly to dirt.
We are a sum and born to consume crops,
the wasteful suitors of Penelope, and the young men of
Alcinoi, working at arranging their appearance more even,
for whom it is noble to sleep in the middle of the day and
to lead their delayed sleep by the sound of the lyre.
Robbers rise by night, in order to murder a man;
will you not awake, so that you may save yourself? But
if, healthy, you do not wish to run, you will run when you have dropsy; and if
you do not ask for the book with light before day, if you
do not stretch your mind with studies and worthy things,
(while) awake, you will be bent by envy or love. For why
do you hasten to remove that which offends your eye; why, if anything
eats your mind, do you delay the time of worrying for a year?
He who begins has half of what is made: dare to be wise:
begin. He who prolongs the hour of living rightly,
is like a farmer who waits while the river flows by; but the river
flows and will flow, winding in all time.
Silver is sought, a rich wife for creating boys is sought
and uncultivated forests are subdued by the plow;
to he who desires nothing greater is given that which is enough.
Not a house nor a farm, not a pile of money and gold
removed the fever from the sick body of the master,
nor the cares from his mind; it is right for the owner to be well,
if he considers to well use the collected things.
He who desires or fears, thus his house and things please him,
just as painted tablets help his watery eye, or a dressing helps his gout,
or lyres help his ears pained by collected filth.
Unless the vase is clean, whatever you pour in will sour.
Scorn pleasures; the pleasure that is bought with pain does harm.
The miser always lacks; reach for a sure end to desire.
An envious man wastes away by the better things of others;
Sicilian tyrants invented no greater torture than
envy. He who does not check his anger,
will wish that the anger and injury which he urged be undone,
while he hastens punishments with unpunished hate through power.
Anger is a brief madness: rule your mind, unless it obeys,
it controls; restrain this with a bridle, this with a chain.
The teacher trains the docile horse with a tender neck
to go by the road which the horseman shows; from which time the hunting
dog in the hall barks at the deer skin,
the puppy serves in the forests. Now, boy, drink in my words
with a pure heart, now present yourself to your betters.
A jar will save the odor which it was once soaked in fresh
for a long time. But if you delay or, active, precede,
I neither wait for the slow nor pursue the one preceding.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Horace, Ode 2.16

Otium divos rogat in patenti
prensus Aegaeo, simul atra nubes
condidit lunam neque certa fulgent
sidera nautis;

otium bello furiosa Thrace,
otium Medi pharetra decori,
Grosphe, non gemmis neque purpura ve-
nale nec auro.

Non enim gazae neque consularis
summovet lictor miseros tumultus
mentis et curas laqueata circum
tecta volantis.

Vivitur parvo bene, cui paternum
splendet in mensa tenui salinum
nec levis somnos timor aut cupido
sordidus aufert.

Quid brevi fortes iaculamur aevo
multa? Quid terras alioi calentis
sole mutamus? Patriae quis exsul
se quoque fugit?

Scandit aeratas vitiosa navis
Cura nec turmas equitum relinquit,
ocior cervis et agente nimbos
ocior Euro.

Laetus in praesens animus quod ultra est
oderit curare et amara lento
temperet risu. Nihil est ab omni
parte beatum.

Abstulit clarum cita mors Achillem,
longa Tithonum minuit senectus;
et mihi forsan tibi quod negarit,
porriget hora.

Te greges centum Siculaeque circum
mugiunt vaccae, tibi tollit hinnitum
apta quadrigis equa, te bis Afro
murice tinctae

vestiunt lanae; mihi parva rura et
spiritum Graiae tenuem Camenae
Parca non mendax dedit et malignum
spernere vulgus.

The sailor caught in the open Aegean sea asks
the gods for leisure, at the same time a black cloud
has hidden the moon and the sure constellations
don't shine for sailors;

Thrace, wild from war, asks for leisure,
the Medes, decorated with a quiver, ask for leisure,
Grosphus, which is not for sale for gems or
purple or gold.

Indeed neither treasure nor an attendant of a
consul clears away the wretched riots
of the mind and the cares flying around
the paneled ceiling.

He lives well on little, on whose thin table
an ancestral salt-cellar shines,
and for whom unclean fear and desire
do not carry away light slumbers.

Why do we, brave for a short time, aim for many
things? Why do we exchange lands burning
for another sun? Which exile of the fatherland
likewise flees himself?

Vicious worry climbs bronze ships
and does not abandon the troops of horsemen,
swifter than the deer and swifter than the clouds
driven by the east wind.

May the mind happy in the present hate to worry
about that which is beyond and may it combine
bitterness with untroubled laughter. Nothing is fortunate
from every part.

Quick death took away bright Achilles,
long old age diminished Tithonus;
and, perhaps, time will extend for me that which
it has denied to you

One hundred herds and Sicilian cows low
around you, the mare suitable for a chariot
raises a neigh for you, the wool stained twice
with African shellfish

clothes you; not-deceitful Fate has given to me
a small farm and the slight breath of the Greek Muse
and has allowed me to scorn the
spiteful crowd.