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The Complete Works of Horace: Odes, Epodes, Satires, Epistles, and Art
Ancient Rome had no shortage of great writers and poets, including Plutarch, Virgil, Ovid, Catullus, Tacitus, and countless others. One of the great Roman poets who is usually part of the conversation is Quintus Horatius Flaccus , known simply as Horace (65-8 B.C.). In fact, Horace was the preeminent Roman lyric poet during the time of Augustus.
Horace may have had his greatest influence on the Middle Ages and Renaissance. While people today still echo his Carpe Diem , it’s clear that his poetry influenced the works of poets such as Petrarch and Dante as well. The Art of Poetry has been the standard guide on composing poetry for nearly 2,000 years.
Horace may have had his greatest influence on the Middle Ages and Renaissance. While people today still echo his Carpe Diem , it’s clear that his poetry influenced the works of poets such as Petrarch and Dante as well. The Art of Poetry has been the standard guide on composing poetry for nearly 2,000 years.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
About the author
Horatius
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Odes
and
Satires
Roman lyric poet Quintus Horatius Flaccus exerted a major influence on English poetry.
(December 8, 65 BC – November 27, 8 BC)
Horace, the son of a freed slave, who owned a small farm, later moved to Rome to work as a coactor, a middleman between buyers and sellers at auctions, receiving 1% of the purchase price for his services. The father ably spent considerable money on education of his son, accompanied him first to Rome for his primary education, and then sent him to Athens to study Greek and philosophy.
After the assassination of Julius Caesar, Horace joined the army, serving under the generalship of Brutus. He fought as a staff officer (tribunus militum) in the battle of Philippi. Alluding to famous literary models, he later claimed to throw away his shield and to flee for his salvation. When people declared an amnesty for those who fought against the victorious Octavian Augustus, Horace returned to Italy, only to find his estate confiscated and his father likely then dead. Horace claims that circumstances reduced him to poverty.
Nevertheless, he meaningfully gained a profitable lifetime appointment as a scriba quaestorius, an official of the Treasury; this appointment allowed him to practice his poetic art.
Horace was a member of a literary circle that included Virgil and Lucius Varius Rufus, who introduced him to Maecenas, friend and confidant of Augustus. Maecenas became his patron and close friend and presented Horace with an estate near Tibur in the Sabine Hills (contemporary Tivoli). A few months after the death of Maecenas, Horace died in Rome. Upon his death bed, Horace with no heirs relinquished his farm to Augustus, his friend and the emperor, for imperial needs, and it stands today as a spot of pilgrimage for his admirers.
(December 8, 65 BC – November 27, 8 BC)
Horace, the son of a freed slave, who owned a small farm, later moved to Rome to work as a coactor, a middleman between buyers and sellers at auctions, receiving 1% of the purchase price for his services. The father ably spent considerable money on education of his son, accompanied him first to Rome for his primary education, and then sent him to Athens to study Greek and philosophy.
After the assassination of Julius Caesar, Horace joined the army, serving under the generalship of Brutus. He fought as a staff officer (tribunus militum) in the battle of Philippi. Alluding to famous literary models, he later claimed to throw away his shield and to flee for his salvation. When people declared an amnesty for those who fought against the victorious Octavian Augustus, Horace returned to Italy, only to find his estate confiscated and his father likely then dead. Horace claims that circumstances reduced him to poverty.
Nevertheless, he meaningfully gained a profitable lifetime appointment as a scriba quaestorius, an official of the Treasury; this appointment allowed him to practice his poetic art.
Horace was a member of a literary circle that included Virgil and Lucius Varius Rufus, who introduced him to Maecenas, friend and confidant of Augustus. Maecenas became his patron and close friend and presented Horace with an estate near Tibur in the Sabine Hills (contemporary Tivoli). A few months after the death of Maecenas, Horace died in Rome. Upon his death bed, Horace with no heirs relinquished his farm to Augustus, his friend and the emperor, for imperial needs, and it stands today as a spot of pilgrimage for his admirers.
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April 14, 2026
Again, in my recent burst of reading classics, I was surprised to find that Horace actually lived around the beginning of the common era. I guess, that just shows my ignorance about classical writers...but, at least, I now know a bit more about Horace:.....Quintus Horatius Flaccus was born on the 8th of December, in the year 65, B.C., at Venusium, a town situated between Apulia and Lucania. His father was a freedman ...still possessed competent means, and left Horace a comfortable patrimony on the banks of the Aufidus......I’ve just realised as I’m writing this and incorporating some of the translator’s own preface, that the translator doesn’t write clearly....puts things back to front. Maybe they too are a poet but it doesn’t make for easy comprehension. ...see the following sentence....all back to front. I think the translator is hoping that they are going to be regarded as a modern Horace. [I’ve included a number of extracts from the book below. Partly to act as memory joggers for me and partly to just to capture something that caught my interest].
“To the education of our poet the greatest attention was paid, and no means were spared to endow him with the highest gifts of mental culture”.....including sending him to Athens...While engaged in the study of philosophy there, a study which was hereafter to form the ground-work of his literary fame, the assassination of Julius Cæsar brought on the crisis between the contending interest of Rome. Horace joined the republican party, and attained the rank of a military tribune under Brutus. (Unfortunately, this was the losing side) and probably his small possessions, like those of Virgil, were confiscated to remunerate the soldiers who had fought against their own countrymen and won So we may fairly suppose that this misfortune tended to develop the poetical genius of Horace......Gradually his powers of wit and repartee increased his friendship with the great, and introduced him to the intimacy of Mæcenas. A friendship of the firmest kind sprang up from what was at first but a distant and patronizing courtesy, and Horace, like Virgil, henceforth became the constant friend and associate of Mæcenas, whom he accompanied upon the most confidential missions. [Maecenas was a statesman, rich, and well regarded. Certainly paid to have him as a patron and friend]. About the year 37, B.C. (for the date is very uncertain,). Horace followed his patron to Brundusium, where, in company with Cocceius Nerva and Capito, he was engaged in negotiating a reconciliation between Antony and Augustus.
At the age of fifty-seven, in the year 8 B.C., Horace died suddenly at Rome, having nominated Augustus as his heir. Mæcenas died about the same time, almost fulfilling the melancholy prediction of his poet friend,
His works became a constant source of delight and imitation to almost all subsequent poets, especially those of Italy,
I must say that I found the odes generally rather boring and sycophantic. Certainly hard going to read. And he certainly does a lot of “sucking up” to Maecenas and Augustus. To my mind much of his work is about extolling the virtues of the simple “country” life vs the decadence of the city. But he seems to take his share of pleasure in the city. As in the work of the other classical writers, there is an unselfconscious and unquestioning acceptance of slavery as just “the way things are”. Not a hint there of human rights.
I rather liked the satires, the epistles and the art of poetry more. Though I’m not sure that he doesn’t do, with his poetry, exactly what he accuses others of doing: “rivers meandering through lush fields”, for example. But I liked some descriptions of daily life etc ...like the crane swinging loads of timber at building sites. I’ve never heard mention of this in the suburbs of Rome before. There is also a lot of pop psychology or wise sayings such as: “For he who will be covetous, will also be anxious: but he that lives in a state of anxiety, will never in my estimation be free”. I've included a number of extracts below tht appealed to me in one way or another and, I hope, will also act as memory joggers for me,
Yes. Overall, I liked it. Though not sure I would rave about Horace the way others apparently have done over the centuries. Four stars from me.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
Lydia, I conjure thee by all the powers above, to tell me why you are so intent to ruin Sybaris by inspiring him with love? Why hates he the sunny plain, though inured to bear the dust and heat?
neither does he, who has often acquired reputation by the quoit, often by the javelin having cleared the mark, any longer appear with arms all black-and-blue by martial exercises?...[this reminds me of my youth when I used the parallel bars excessively that I ended black and blue around the biceps].
Dissolve the cold, liberally piling up billets on the hearth; and bring out, O Thaliarchus, the more generous wine, four years old, from the Sabine jar. Leave the rest to the gods,
Avoid inquiring what may happen tomorrow; and whatever day fortune shall bestow on you, score it up for gain;
How much better is it to
bear with patience whatever shall happen!
While we are conversing, envious age has been flying; seize the present day, not giving the least credit to the succeeding one.
ODE XVIII. TO VARUS.
O Varus you can plant no tree preferable to the sacred vine, about the mellow soil of Tibur, and the walls of Catilus.
Who, after wine, complains of the hardships of war or of poverty?
ODE XXV. TO LYDIA.
"My Lydia, dost thou sleep the live-long night, while I your lover am dying?" Now you are an old woman, it will be your turn to bewail the insolence of rakes, when you are neglected in a lonely alley, while the Thracian wind rages at the Interlunium:
What does the poet beg from Phoebus on the dedication of his temple? What does he pray for, while he pours from the flagon the first libation? Not the rich crops of fertile Sardinia: not the goodly flocks of scorched Calabria: not gold, or Indian ivory:
Me olives support, me succories and soft mallows. O thou son of Latona, grant me to enjoy my acquisitions, and to possess my health, together with an unimpaired understanding, I beseech thee; and that I may not lead a dishonorable old age, nor one bereft of the lyre.
ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE.
Preserve thou Caesar, who is meditating an expedition
against the Britons, the furthest people in the world, and also the new levy of youths to be dreaded by the Eastern regions, and the Red Sea. Alas! I am ashamed of our scars, and our wickedness, and of brethren. What have we, a hardened age, avoided? What have we in our impiety left unviolated?
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
ODE VI. TO SEPTIMUS.
O may Tibur, founded by a Grecian colony, be the habitation of my old age!
That corner of the world smiles in my eye beyond all others; where the honey yields not to the Hymettian, and the olive rivals the verdant Venafrian: where the temperature of the air produces a long spring and mild winters, and Aulon friendly to the fruitful vine, envies not the Falernian grapes. That place, and those blest heights, solicit you and me; there you shall bedew the glowing ashes of your poet friend with a tear due [to his memory].
ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS.
Youth and beauty fly swift away, while sapless old age expels the wanton loves and gentle sleep. The same glory does not always remain to the vernal flowers, nor does the ruddy moon shine with one continued aspect; why, therefore, do you fatigue you mind, unequal to eternal projects?
ODE XV. AGAINST THE LUXURY OF THE ROMANS.
The palace-like edifices will in a short time leave but a few acres for the plough; ponds of wider extent than the Lucrine lake will be everywhere to be seen; and the barren plane-tree will supplant the elms.
ODE XVI. TO GROSPHUS.
That man lives happily on a little, who can view with pleasure the old-fashioned family salt-cellar on his frugal board; neither anxiety nor sordid avarice robs him of gentle sleep.
A mind that is cheerful in its present state, will disdain to be solicitous any further, and can correct the bitters of life with a placid smile. Nothing is on all hands completely blessed.
ODE XVII. TO MÆCENAS.
'Tis neither agreeable to the gods, nor to me, that thou shouldest depart first, O Mæcenas, thou grand ornament and pillar of my affairs. Alas! if an untimely blow hurry away thee, a part of my soul, why do I the other moiety remain, my value lost, nor any longer whole?
ODE XVIII. AGAINST AVARICE AND LUXURY.
You put out marble to be hewn, though with one foot in the grave; and, unmindful of a sepulcher, are building houses; and are busy to extend the shore of the sea, that beats with violence at Baiae, not rich enough with the shore of the mainland.
The impartial earth is opened equally to the poor and to the sons of kings;
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
ODE VIII.
TO MÆCENAS. O Mæcenas, learned in both languages, you wonder what I, a single man, have to do on the calends of March; what these flowers mean, and the censer replete with frankincense, and the coals laid upon the live turf. I made a vow of a joyous banquet, and a white goat to Bacchus, after having been at the point of death by a blow from a tree. This day, sacred in the revolving year, shall remove the cork fastened with pitch from that jar,
Take, my Mæcenas, a hundred cups on account of the safety of your friend,
ODE XVI. TO MÆCENAS.
Gold delights to penetrate through the midst of guards, and to break through stone-walls, more potent than the thunderbolt.
The family of the Grecian
augur perished, immersed in destruction on account of lucre. The man of Macedon cleft the gates of the cities and subverted rival monarchs by bribery. Bribes enthrall fierce captains of ships. Care, and a thirst for greater things, is the consequence of increasing wealth.
ODE XXIII. TO PHIDYLE.
My rustic Phidyle, if you raise your suppliant hands to heaven at the new moon, and appease the household gods with frankincense, and this year's fruits, and a ravening swine; the fertile vine shall neither feel the pestilential south-west, nor the corn the barren blight, or your dear brood the sickly season in the fruit-bearing autumn.
It is not required of you, who are crowning our little gods with rosemary and the brittle myrtle, to propitiate them with a great slaughter of sheep.
ODE XXX. ON HIS OWN WORKS. I have completed a monument more lasting than brass, and more sublime than the regal elevation of pyramids, which neither the wasting shower, the unavailing north wind, nor an innumerable succession of years, and the flight of seasons, shall be able to demolish. I shall not wholly die; but a great part of me shall escape Libitina.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
The brave are generated by the brave and good; there is in steers, there is in horses, the virtue of their sires; nor do the courageous eagles procreate the unwarlike dove. But learning improves the innate force, and good discipline confirms the mind: whenever morals are deficient, vices disgrace what is naturally good.
ODE VI.
HYMN TO APOLLO.
Shortly a bride you will say: "I, skilled in the measures of the poet Horace, recited an ode which
was acceptable to the gods, when the secular period brought back the festal days."
ODE VII. TO TORQUATUS.
The snows are fled, the herbage now returns to the fields, and the leaves to the trees. The earth changes its appearance, and the decreasing rivers glide along their banks:
When once, Torquatus, you shall be dead, and Minos shall have made his awful decisions concerning you; not your family, not your eloquence, not your piety shall restore you.
ODE IX.
TO MARCUS LOLLIUS.
Valor, uncelebrated, differs but little from cowardice when in the grave. I will not [therefore], O Lollius, pass you over in silence, uncelebrated in my writings, or suffer envious forgetfulness
ODE XIII. TO LYCE.
you are become an old woman, and yet you would fain seem a beauty;
Now neither Coan purples nor sparkling jewels restore those years, which winged time has inserted in the public annals. Whither is your beauty gone? Alas! or whither your bloom?
to rival in years the aged raven: that the fervid young fellows might see, not without excessive laughter, that torch, [which once so brightly scorched,] reduced to ashes.
THE BOOK OF THE EPODES OF HORACE
ODE II. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
Happy the man, who, remote from business, after the manner of the ancient race of mortals, cultivates his paternal lands with his own oxen, disengaged from every kind of usury; he is neither alarmed by the horrible trump, as a soldier, nor dreads he the angry sea; he shuns both the bar and the proud portals of citizens in power.
Sometimes he delights to lie under an aged holm, sometimes on the matted grass: meanwhile the waters glide along in their deep channels; the birds warble in the woods; and the fountains murmur with their purling streams, which invites gentle slumbers.
ODE X. AGAINST MÆVIUS.
The vessel that carries the loathsome Mævius, makes her departure under an unlucky omen. Be mindful, O south wind, that you buffet it about with horrible billows. May the gloomy east, turning up the sea, disperse its cables and broken oars.
ODE XVI.
TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.
Now is another age worn away by civil wars, and Rome herself falls by her own strength.
we, an impious race, whose blood is devoted to perdition, shall destroy her: and this land shall again be possessed by wild beasts.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE
SATIRE I.
How comes it to pass, Mæcenas, that no one lives content with his condition, whether reason gave it him, or chance threw it in his way [but] praises those who follow different pursuits?
If any god should say, "Lo! I will effect what you desire: you, that were just now a soldier, shall be a merchant; you, lately a lawyer [shall be] a farmer. Do ye depart one way, and ye another, having exchanged the parts [you are to act] in life. How now! why do you stand?" They are unwilling; and yet it is in their power to be happy.
profess that they endure toil with this intention, that as old men they may retire into a secure resting place, when once they have gotten together a sufficient provision.
Though your thrashing-floor should yield a hundred thousand bushels of corn, your belly will not on that account contain more than mine:
But he who desires only so much as is sufficient, neither drinks water fouled with the mud, nor loses his life in the waves.
But a great majority of mankind, misled by a wrong desire cry, "No sum is enough; because you are esteemed in proportion to what you possess."
When I bid you not be a miser, I do not order you to become a debauchee or a prodigal.
there is a mean in things;
Hence it is, that we rarely find a man who can say he has lived happy, and content with his past life, can retire from the world like a satisfied guest.
SATIRE II. Bad men, when they avoid certain vices, fall into their opposite extremes.
Fufidius, wealthy in lands, wealthy in money put out at interest, is afraid of having the character of a rake and spendthrift. This fellow deducts 5 per cent. Interest from the principal [at the time of lending]; and, the more desperate in his circumstances any one is, the more severely be pinches him: he hunts out the names of young fellows that have just put on the toga virilis under rigid fathers. Who does not cry out, O sovereign Jupiter! when he has heard [of such knavery]?
What! when thirst parches your jaws, are you solicitous for golden cups to drink out of? What! when you are hungry, do you despise everything but peacock and turbot?
There was nothing uniform in that fellow; frequently would he run along, as one flying from an enemy; more frequently [he walked] as if he bore [in procession] the sacrifice of Juno: he had often two hundred slaves, often but ten: one while talking of kings and potentates, everything that was magnificent; at another—" Let me have a three-legged table, and a cellar of clean salt, and a gown which, though coarse, may be sufficient to keep out the cold."
my dear friends will both pardon me in any matter in which I shall foolishly offend, and I in turn will cheerfully put up with their faults; and though a private man, I shall live more happily than you, a king.
SATIRE IV. He apologizes for the liberties taken by satiric poets in general, and particularly by himself.
Upon these [models] Lucilius entirely depends, having imitated them, changing only their feet and numbers: a man of wit, of great keenness, inelegant in the composition of verse: for in this respect he was faulty; he would often, as a great feat, dictate two hundred verses in an hour, standing in the same position.
As he flowed muddily, there was [always] something that one would wish to remove; he was verbose, and too lazy to endure the fatigue of writing—
There are many who recite their writings in the middle of the forum; and who [do it] while bathing: the closeness of the place, [it seems,] gives melody to the voice. This pleases coxcombs, who never consider whether they do this to no purpose, or at an unseasonable time.
For my excellent father inured me to this custom, that by noting each particular vice I might avoid it by the example [of others]. When he exhorted me that I should live thriftily, frugally, and content with what he had provided for me; don't you see, [would he say,] how wretchedly the son of Albius lives? and how miserably Barrus? A strong lesson to hinder any one from squandering away his patrimony.
other men's disgraces often deter tender minds from vices.
SATIRE V. He describes a certain journey of his from Rome to Brundusium with great pleasantry.
Heliodorus the rhetorician, most learned in the Greek language, was my fellow-traveller: thence we proceeded to Forum-Appi, stuffed with sailors and surly landlords.
Then our slaves began to be liberal of their abuse to the watermen, and the watermen to our slaves. "Here bring to." "You are stowing in hundreds; hold, now sure there is enough." Thus while the fare is paid, and the mule fastened a whole hour is passed away.
In the next place Egnatia, which [seems to have] been built on troubled waters, gave us occasion for jests and laughter; for they wanted to persuade us, that at this sacred portal the incense melted without fire. The Jew Apella may believe this, not I. For I have learned [from Epicurus], that the gods dwell in a state of tranquillity;
SATIRE VI. Of true nobility.
Not Mæcenas,
as the generality are wont, toss up your nose at obscure people, such as me, who has [only] a freed-man for my father: since you affirm that it is of no consequence of what parents any man is born, so that he be a man of merit.
“To the education of our poet the greatest attention was paid, and no means were spared to endow him with the highest gifts of mental culture”.....including sending him to Athens...While engaged in the study of philosophy there, a study which was hereafter to form the ground-work of his literary fame, the assassination of Julius Cæsar brought on the crisis between the contending interest of Rome. Horace joined the republican party, and attained the rank of a military tribune under Brutus. (Unfortunately, this was the losing side) and probably his small possessions, like those of Virgil, were confiscated to remunerate the soldiers who had fought against their own countrymen and won So we may fairly suppose that this misfortune tended to develop the poetical genius of Horace......Gradually his powers of wit and repartee increased his friendship with the great, and introduced him to the intimacy of Mæcenas. A friendship of the firmest kind sprang up from what was at first but a distant and patronizing courtesy, and Horace, like Virgil, henceforth became the constant friend and associate of Mæcenas, whom he accompanied upon the most confidential missions. [Maecenas was a statesman, rich, and well regarded. Certainly paid to have him as a patron and friend]. About the year 37, B.C. (for the date is very uncertain,). Horace followed his patron to Brundusium, where, in company with Cocceius Nerva and Capito, he was engaged in negotiating a reconciliation between Antony and Augustus.
At the age of fifty-seven, in the year 8 B.C., Horace died suddenly at Rome, having nominated Augustus as his heir. Mæcenas died about the same time, almost fulfilling the melancholy prediction of his poet friend,
His works became a constant source of delight and imitation to almost all subsequent poets, especially those of Italy,
I must say that I found the odes generally rather boring and sycophantic. Certainly hard going to read. And he certainly does a lot of “sucking up” to Maecenas and Augustus. To my mind much of his work is about extolling the virtues of the simple “country” life vs the decadence of the city. But he seems to take his share of pleasure in the city. As in the work of the other classical writers, there is an unselfconscious and unquestioning acceptance of slavery as just “the way things are”. Not a hint there of human rights.
I rather liked the satires, the epistles and the art of poetry more. Though I’m not sure that he doesn’t do, with his poetry, exactly what he accuses others of doing: “rivers meandering through lush fields”, for example. But I liked some descriptions of daily life etc ...like the crane swinging loads of timber at building sites. I’ve never heard mention of this in the suburbs of Rome before. There is also a lot of pop psychology or wise sayings such as: “For he who will be covetous, will also be anxious: but he that lives in a state of anxiety, will never in my estimation be free”. I've included a number of extracts below tht appealed to me in one way or another and, I hope, will also act as memory joggers for me,
Yes. Overall, I liked it. Though not sure I would rave about Horace the way others apparently have done over the centuries. Four stars from me.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
Lydia, I conjure thee by all the powers above, to tell me why you are so intent to ruin Sybaris by inspiring him with love? Why hates he the sunny plain, though inured to bear the dust and heat?
neither does he, who has often acquired reputation by the quoit, often by the javelin having cleared the mark, any longer appear with arms all black-and-blue by martial exercises?...[this reminds me of my youth when I used the parallel bars excessively that I ended black and blue around the biceps].
Dissolve the cold, liberally piling up billets on the hearth; and bring out, O Thaliarchus, the more generous wine, four years old, from the Sabine jar. Leave the rest to the gods,
Avoid inquiring what may happen tomorrow; and whatever day fortune shall bestow on you, score it up for gain;
How much better is it to
bear with patience whatever shall happen!
While we are conversing, envious age has been flying; seize the present day, not giving the least credit to the succeeding one.
ODE XVIII. TO VARUS.
O Varus you can plant no tree preferable to the sacred vine, about the mellow soil of Tibur, and the walls of Catilus.
Who, after wine, complains of the hardships of war or of poverty?
ODE XXV. TO LYDIA.
"My Lydia, dost thou sleep the live-long night, while I your lover am dying?" Now you are an old woman, it will be your turn to bewail the insolence of rakes, when you are neglected in a lonely alley, while the Thracian wind rages at the Interlunium:
What does the poet beg from Phoebus on the dedication of his temple? What does he pray for, while he pours from the flagon the first libation? Not the rich crops of fertile Sardinia: not the goodly flocks of scorched Calabria: not gold, or Indian ivory:
Me olives support, me succories and soft mallows. O thou son of Latona, grant me to enjoy my acquisitions, and to possess my health, together with an unimpaired understanding, I beseech thee; and that I may not lead a dishonorable old age, nor one bereft of the lyre.
ODE XXXV. TO FORTUNE.
Preserve thou Caesar, who is meditating an expedition
against the Britons, the furthest people in the world, and also the new levy of youths to be dreaded by the Eastern regions, and the Red Sea. Alas! I am ashamed of our scars, and our wickedness, and of brethren. What have we, a hardened age, avoided? What have we in our impiety left unviolated?
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
ODE VI. TO SEPTIMUS.
O may Tibur, founded by a Grecian colony, be the habitation of my old age!
That corner of the world smiles in my eye beyond all others; where the honey yields not to the Hymettian, and the olive rivals the verdant Venafrian: where the temperature of the air produces a long spring and mild winters, and Aulon friendly to the fruitful vine, envies not the Falernian grapes. That place, and those blest heights, solicit you and me; there you shall bedew the glowing ashes of your poet friend with a tear due [to his memory].
ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS.
Youth and beauty fly swift away, while sapless old age expels the wanton loves and gentle sleep. The same glory does not always remain to the vernal flowers, nor does the ruddy moon shine with one continued aspect; why, therefore, do you fatigue you mind, unequal to eternal projects?
ODE XV. AGAINST THE LUXURY OF THE ROMANS.
The palace-like edifices will in a short time leave but a few acres for the plough; ponds of wider extent than the Lucrine lake will be everywhere to be seen; and the barren plane-tree will supplant the elms.
ODE XVI. TO GROSPHUS.
That man lives happily on a little, who can view with pleasure the old-fashioned family salt-cellar on his frugal board; neither anxiety nor sordid avarice robs him of gentle sleep.
A mind that is cheerful in its present state, will disdain to be solicitous any further, and can correct the bitters of life with a placid smile. Nothing is on all hands completely blessed.
ODE XVII. TO MÆCENAS.
'Tis neither agreeable to the gods, nor to me, that thou shouldest depart first, O Mæcenas, thou grand ornament and pillar of my affairs. Alas! if an untimely blow hurry away thee, a part of my soul, why do I the other moiety remain, my value lost, nor any longer whole?
ODE XVIII. AGAINST AVARICE AND LUXURY.
You put out marble to be hewn, though with one foot in the grave; and, unmindful of a sepulcher, are building houses; and are busy to extend the shore of the sea, that beats with violence at Baiae, not rich enough with the shore of the mainland.
The impartial earth is opened equally to the poor and to the sons of kings;
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
ODE VIII.
TO MÆCENAS. O Mæcenas, learned in both languages, you wonder what I, a single man, have to do on the calends of March; what these flowers mean, and the censer replete with frankincense, and the coals laid upon the live turf. I made a vow of a joyous banquet, and a white goat to Bacchus, after having been at the point of death by a blow from a tree. This day, sacred in the revolving year, shall remove the cork fastened with pitch from that jar,
Take, my Mæcenas, a hundred cups on account of the safety of your friend,
ODE XVI. TO MÆCENAS.
Gold delights to penetrate through the midst of guards, and to break through stone-walls, more potent than the thunderbolt.
The family of the Grecian
augur perished, immersed in destruction on account of lucre. The man of Macedon cleft the gates of the cities and subverted rival monarchs by bribery. Bribes enthrall fierce captains of ships. Care, and a thirst for greater things, is the consequence of increasing wealth.
ODE XXIII. TO PHIDYLE.
My rustic Phidyle, if you raise your suppliant hands to heaven at the new moon, and appease the household gods with frankincense, and this year's fruits, and a ravening swine; the fertile vine shall neither feel the pestilential south-west, nor the corn the barren blight, or your dear brood the sickly season in the fruit-bearing autumn.
It is not required of you, who are crowning our little gods with rosemary and the brittle myrtle, to propitiate them with a great slaughter of sheep.
ODE XXX. ON HIS OWN WORKS. I have completed a monument more lasting than brass, and more sublime than the regal elevation of pyramids, which neither the wasting shower, the unavailing north wind, nor an innumerable succession of years, and the flight of seasons, shall be able to demolish. I shall not wholly die; but a great part of me shall escape Libitina.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODES OF HORACE
The brave are generated by the brave and good; there is in steers, there is in horses, the virtue of their sires; nor do the courageous eagles procreate the unwarlike dove. But learning improves the innate force, and good discipline confirms the mind: whenever morals are deficient, vices disgrace what is naturally good.
ODE VI.
HYMN TO APOLLO.
Shortly a bride you will say: "I, skilled in the measures of the poet Horace, recited an ode which
was acceptable to the gods, when the secular period brought back the festal days."
ODE VII. TO TORQUATUS.
The snows are fled, the herbage now returns to the fields, and the leaves to the trees. The earth changes its appearance, and the decreasing rivers glide along their banks:
When once, Torquatus, you shall be dead, and Minos shall have made his awful decisions concerning you; not your family, not your eloquence, not your piety shall restore you.
ODE IX.
TO MARCUS LOLLIUS.
Valor, uncelebrated, differs but little from cowardice when in the grave. I will not [therefore], O Lollius, pass you over in silence, uncelebrated in my writings, or suffer envious forgetfulness
ODE XIII. TO LYCE.
you are become an old woman, and yet you would fain seem a beauty;
Now neither Coan purples nor sparkling jewels restore those years, which winged time has inserted in the public annals. Whither is your beauty gone? Alas! or whither your bloom?
to rival in years the aged raven: that the fervid young fellows might see, not without excessive laughter, that torch, [which once so brightly scorched,] reduced to ashes.
THE BOOK OF THE EPODES OF HORACE
ODE II. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
Happy the man, who, remote from business, after the manner of the ancient race of mortals, cultivates his paternal lands with his own oxen, disengaged from every kind of usury; he is neither alarmed by the horrible trump, as a soldier, nor dreads he the angry sea; he shuns both the bar and the proud portals of citizens in power.
Sometimes he delights to lie under an aged holm, sometimes on the matted grass: meanwhile the waters glide along in their deep channels; the birds warble in the woods; and the fountains murmur with their purling streams, which invites gentle slumbers.
ODE X. AGAINST MÆVIUS.
The vessel that carries the loathsome Mævius, makes her departure under an unlucky omen. Be mindful, O south wind, that you buffet it about with horrible billows. May the gloomy east, turning up the sea, disperse its cables and broken oars.
ODE XVI.
TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE.
Now is another age worn away by civil wars, and Rome herself falls by her own strength.
we, an impious race, whose blood is devoted to perdition, shall destroy her: and this land shall again be possessed by wild beasts.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE SATIRES OF HORACE
SATIRE I.
How comes it to pass, Mæcenas, that no one lives content with his condition, whether reason gave it him, or chance threw it in his way [but] praises those who follow different pursuits?
If any god should say, "Lo! I will effect what you desire: you, that were just now a soldier, shall be a merchant; you, lately a lawyer [shall be] a farmer. Do ye depart one way, and ye another, having exchanged the parts [you are to act] in life. How now! why do you stand?" They are unwilling; and yet it is in their power to be happy.
profess that they endure toil with this intention, that as old men they may retire into a secure resting place, when once they have gotten together a sufficient provision.
Though your thrashing-floor should yield a hundred thousand bushels of corn, your belly will not on that account contain more than mine:
But he who desires only so much as is sufficient, neither drinks water fouled with the mud, nor loses his life in the waves.
But a great majority of mankind, misled by a wrong desire cry, "No sum is enough; because you are esteemed in proportion to what you possess."
When I bid you not be a miser, I do not order you to become a debauchee or a prodigal.
there is a mean in things;
Hence it is, that we rarely find a man who can say he has lived happy, and content with his past life, can retire from the world like a satisfied guest.
SATIRE II. Bad men, when they avoid certain vices, fall into their opposite extremes.
Fufidius, wealthy in lands, wealthy in money put out at interest, is afraid of having the character of a rake and spendthrift. This fellow deducts 5 per cent. Interest from the principal [at the time of lending]; and, the more desperate in his circumstances any one is, the more severely be pinches him: he hunts out the names of young fellows that have just put on the toga virilis under rigid fathers. Who does not cry out, O sovereign Jupiter! when he has heard [of such knavery]?
What! when thirst parches your jaws, are you solicitous for golden cups to drink out of? What! when you are hungry, do you despise everything but peacock and turbot?
There was nothing uniform in that fellow; frequently would he run along, as one flying from an enemy; more frequently [he walked] as if he bore [in procession] the sacrifice of Juno: he had often two hundred slaves, often but ten: one while talking of kings and potentates, everything that was magnificent; at another—" Let me have a three-legged table, and a cellar of clean salt, and a gown which, though coarse, may be sufficient to keep out the cold."
my dear friends will both pardon me in any matter in which I shall foolishly offend, and I in turn will cheerfully put up with their faults; and though a private man, I shall live more happily than you, a king.
SATIRE IV. He apologizes for the liberties taken by satiric poets in general, and particularly by himself.
Upon these [models] Lucilius entirely depends, having imitated them, changing only their feet and numbers: a man of wit, of great keenness, inelegant in the composition of verse: for in this respect he was faulty; he would often, as a great feat, dictate two hundred verses in an hour, standing in the same position.
As he flowed muddily, there was [always] something that one would wish to remove; he was verbose, and too lazy to endure the fatigue of writing—
There are many who recite their writings in the middle of the forum; and who [do it] while bathing: the closeness of the place, [it seems,] gives melody to the voice. This pleases coxcombs, who never consider whether they do this to no purpose, or at an unseasonable time.
For my excellent father inured me to this custom, that by noting each particular vice I might avoid it by the example [of others]. When he exhorted me that I should live thriftily, frugally, and content with what he had provided for me; don't you see, [would he say,] how wretchedly the son of Albius lives? and how miserably Barrus? A strong lesson to hinder any one from squandering away his patrimony.
other men's disgraces often deter tender minds from vices.
SATIRE V. He describes a certain journey of his from Rome to Brundusium with great pleasantry.
Heliodorus the rhetorician, most learned in the Greek language, was my fellow-traveller: thence we proceeded to Forum-Appi, stuffed with sailors and surly landlords.
Then our slaves began to be liberal of their abuse to the watermen, and the watermen to our slaves. "Here bring to." "You are stowing in hundreds; hold, now sure there is enough." Thus while the fare is paid, and the mule fastened a whole hour is passed away.
In the next place Egnatia, which [seems to have] been built on troubled waters, gave us occasion for jests and laughter; for they wanted to persuade us, that at this sacred portal the incense melted without fire. The Jew Apella may believe this, not I. For I have learned [from Epicurus], that the gods dwell in a state of tranquillity;
SATIRE VI. Of true nobility.
Not Mæcenas,
as the generality are wont, toss up your nose at obscure people, such as me, who has [only] a freed-man for my father: since you affirm that it is of no consequence of what parents any man is born, so that he be a man of merit.
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May 12, 2025Finished in in bits and pieces, I admit I skipped over some of the satires. The ars poetica isn't my favorite, and the letters are extremely boring. I must admit some odes are beautiful, but it's not a favorite. After all, it's Roman.
August 19, 2021
Horace’s ‘Soracte Ode’ (1.9) is considered a classic amongst his works, and has been heavily imitated by later poets. This is largely due to the universal nature of the poem. The theme of the poem reflects sentiments which are timeless; the speaker is an aging man who gives advice to a young man, whilst reflecting upon his own life. The mind of the aged man is ever ready to dwell on his present conditions, which upon comparison to his own youth evokes feelings of nostalgia, and perhaps regret.
His own limited capacity is juxtaposed with the possibilities of youth. That is, the speaker (who will be called Horace from hereon) has knowledge of the abruptness of life -and all of its swirling chaos- and therefore urges his young friend to embrace the opportunity for unconstrained love, sex, and wine. One should consider the natural imagery used to illustrate age, the nature of Horace’s advice to his young friend Thaliarchus, and a similar poem (1.11) which can be considered to be a condensed version of the ‘Soracte Ode’ (1.9).
Horace uses pathetic fallacy in order to illustrate the limitations of age, as well as the possibilities of youth. The stages of life are linked to the passing of seasons within the natural world. Age is attributed with cold, static, and colossal images. In the opening stanza Horace compares himself with a montane ecosystem, the Soracte, during the winter. He writes:
Horace 1.9.1-5
Thus, aging is akin to the onset of winter. It is presented as monolithic, perhaps striking, but nonetheless over burdened. In contrast, youth is attributed with heat, swirling winds, and green frondescence. Youth is a chaotic landscape with battling winds [10], and boiling seas [11]. The juxtaposition of a frozen landscape with a dynamic one underscores the of goal the poem. We imagine a forest buckling under the weight of snow, and a river subdued by iceflows and we sense the potency of Horace’s message.
The nature of the speaker’s advice is twofold: firstly life is short, and thus, secondly it is important to enjoy yourself. Perspective allows Horace to recognise that certain activities, places, and even times of day are restricted to the young.
Horace 1.9.18-25
His own limited capacity is juxtaposed with the possibilities of youth. That is, the speaker (who will be called Horace from hereon) has knowledge of the abruptness of life -and all of its swirling chaos- and therefore urges his young friend to embrace the opportunity for unconstrained love, sex, and wine. One should consider the natural imagery used to illustrate age, the nature of Horace’s advice to his young friend Thaliarchus, and a similar poem (1.11) which can be considered to be a condensed version of the ‘Soracte Ode’ (1.9).
Horace uses pathetic fallacy in order to illustrate the limitations of age, as well as the possibilities of youth. The stages of life are linked to the passing of seasons within the natural world. Age is attributed with cold, static, and colossal images. In the opening stanza Horace compares himself with a montane ecosystem, the Soracte, during the winter. He writes:
You see Soracte standing white and deep
with snow, the woods in trouble, hardly able
to carry their burden, and the rivers
halted by sharp ice.
Horace 1.9.1-5
Thus, aging is akin to the onset of winter. It is presented as monolithic, perhaps striking, but nonetheless over burdened. In contrast, youth is attributed with heat, swirling winds, and green frondescence. Youth is a chaotic landscape with battling winds [10], and boiling seas [11]. The juxtaposition of a frozen landscape with a dynamic one underscores the of goal the poem. We imagine a forest buckling under the weight of snow, and a river subdued by iceflows and we sense the potency of Horace’s message.
The nature of the speaker’s advice is twofold: firstly life is short, and thus, secondly it is important to enjoy yourself. Perspective allows Horace to recognise that certain activities, places, and even times of day are restricted to the young.
Now is the time for the Campus and the squares
and soft sighs at the time arranged
as darkness falls.
Now is the time for the lovely laugh from the secret corner
Giving away the girl in her hiding-place
and for the token snatched from her arm
or finger feebly resisting.
Horace 1.9.18-25
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