Odes, Book 4, Ode 1

Horace returns to lyric poetry

by Horace

It is about ten years after Horace signed off his first three books of Odes in Greek lyric metres with a poem declaring that his task was done. Now there is a fourth book, of which this is the first poem. Horace says he is reluctant, and no longer the right age – he would have been fifty a couple of years before this Ode was written – to write this sort of poetry. The elegant set-piece on the praise of Venus and the compliment to Paulus Maximus, a powerful public figure who was Consul in 11 BCE, are framed by an opening and a conclusion which purport to tell us how the ageing Horace now feels about love. The beginning suggests that he would rather it were over and done with, but the ending, with its dream-sequence of longing for a beloved who seems now attainable, now elusive, contradicts this. Whether the poem expresses the middle-aged Horace’s true feelings, or whether it is no more than a characteristically skilled literary fiction, we don’t know, but it is a powerful piece.

See the illustrated blog post with a mosaic of Ganymede from Sousse in North Africa here.

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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.

Are you stirring up those wars again, Venus, suspended so long ago? Spare me, I pray, I pray!
I am not now what I was under the reign of gentle Cinara. Sweet Cupids’

savage mother, don’t try to soften me, toughened now and around my fifties,
with your tender commands: go back to where the tempting prayers of the young are calling you.

It would be more fitting for you, winged with your gleaming swans, to lead the revels into the house
of Paulus Maximus, if you are looking for a suitable liver to roast

– such a noble and presentable young man, with endless accomplishments and forever ready to speak up in court for his anxious clients, and as your soldier he will bear your standard far and wide.

Say perhaps one day he has bested a competitor in love, with a dismissive smile at the rich inducements the rival can offer: he will set you up in marble by the Alban lakes in a shrine under a citrus-wood lintel.

There you will breathe no end of incense and take delight in songs accompanied
by the lyre and the Berecyntian flute, and the Pan-pipes too;

there twice a day, in praise of your divine power, boys, dancing with tender maidens, will pound the floor
with their flashing feet to the four-beat rhythm of the Salic dance.

As for me, I take no pleasure now in woman or boy, in the fallacious hope of requited love,
in toasts and drinking-games, or in binding my temples with fresh flowers.

Ah, but why, Ligurinus, why is this unaccustomed tear rolling down my cheeks? Why even as I speak
does this clever tongue of mine lapse into such clumsy silence?

In my sleep at night it’s now you that I now catch and hold; now you, receding fast, that I follow over the grass of the Campus Martius, you, my cruel one, that I follow through the swirling waters.

`

More Poems by Horace

  1. Give me comfort, not riches
  2. The Golden Mean
  3. Luxury versus the simple life
  4. Gathering rosebuds: carpe diem
  5. A plea for burial
  6. Caesar’s safe return
  7. Stormy seas
  8. Roman values for the new age
  9. The pleasures and dangers of wine
  10. Leave the cares of state, Maecenas
  11. A Prayer to the poetry-God
  12. The fleeting years slip by
  13. A call for a moral renaissance
  14. Poscimur
  15. A day off for rain
  16. The lust for money versus the simple life
  17. Pollio’s histories of civil war
  18. Augustus returns
  19. A divine inspiration
  20. Lovely mother, lovelier daughter
  21. Be your age, Chloris!
  22. Horace the peacemaker
  23. Horace rests from his labours
  24. Tibur or Tarentum: a poet’s dilemma?
  25. An oath to Maecenas
  26. Horace’s wine
  27. Horace’s limitations
  28. The tug-of-war for Nearchus
  29. Pyrrha
  30. An invocation to the lyre
  31. Diana and Apollo: a hymn
  32. A prayer to Mercury
  33. A dedication to Diana
  34. Awe for the Gods
  35. Celebrating Neptune’s feast day
  36. A prayer to Venus
  37. Horace’s Cleopatra ode
  38. A tactful compliment
  39. A Farewell to arms
  40. Fortuna
  41. Horace, accepted bard of Rome
  42. Don’t worry, be happy
  43. What Roman youth should be
  44. A country sacrifice
  45. Licymnia
  46. Glycera
  47. Horace the swan
  48. Curse you, tree!
  49. Late stirrings
  50. Some advice for Dellius
  51. An invitation to Maecenas
  52. Housman and Horace
  53. Horace’s prayer to a wine-jar
  54. Here’s to Murena!
  55. Courage and decadence: the Regulus ode
  56. Pindar and Augustus
  57. New temples, new morals
  58. The consolations of wine
  59. Lyce grows old
  60. Postumus, the years slip by
  61. Poetry, the giver of immortality
  62. A garland from the Muses
  63. Iccius goes soldiering
  64. The victories of Drusus and Tiberius
  65. The country is best
  66. Gyges’s constancy
  67. Romulus becomes a God
  68. Europa’s lament
  69. Numida’s back
  70. Nereus prophesies the Trojan War
  71. Carpe diem, Sestius
  72. Rome: disaster and salvation
  73. A change of mind
  74. Augustus, master of the world
  75. Wealth should be used, not hoarded
  76. Horace’s Chloe
  77. Mourning for a good man
  78. Lydia’s tragedy
  79. Last love
  80. Horace’s fame and Apollo’s gift
  81. Love a slave-girl? Oh, Xanthias!
  82. Unrequited love
  83. The final ode
  84. Diffugere nives
  85. Horace’s reverence to Bacchus
  86. Don’t trust Barine
  87. Relief from care
  88. Horace, the wolf and the upright life
  89. Lalage is too young
  90. O Fons Bandusiae
  91. Horace welcomes his army comrade
  92. Valgius and Mystes
  93. Jupiter’s authority, and Caesar’s
  94. Jealousy
  95. Locked out
  96. Horace’s first Ode
  97. Soracte
  98. Neobule
  99. A prayer to Faunus
  100. Horace’s monument
  101. Love lost and found
  102. Romulus in Heaven

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