Odes 2.13

Curse you, tree!

by Horace

Horace’s near miss with a falling tree is a central feature of autobiography in his work. The abuse he piles on it and the man who planted it, and the Hades scene in the latter part of the poem, both are semi-comic, but both also have a serious point to make as well. He took the threat of the tree seriously enough to celebrate the anniversary of his lucky escape every year, while the Hades passage gives him an opportunity to doff his hat to two of his models and heroes, Greek lyric poets of five hundred years before: Sappho, who needs no introduction; and Alcaeus, poet, warrior and deposer of tyrants, and originator of the Alcaic metre that Horace uses in this and many other odes. In between the two episodes, Horace muses on the point, as true now as it was then, that you can be as careful as you like about the dangers implicit in your way of life, but it may be something unforeseen that gets you in the end.

The motif of Hell’s prisoners and their jailers stopped in their eternal tracks by the beauty of song was used by Virgil in his treatment of the Orpheus myth in the fourth book of his Georgics, in a passage which provided a model for Horace here and elsewhere in the Odes, and also, no doubt among others, for his younger contemporary Ovid in the Metamorphoses and, in a moving passage written by the poet under sentence of death, by Boethius in the sixth century.

Metre: Alcaics.

See the illustrated blog post here.

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Ille et nefasto te posuit die
quicumque primum, et sacrilega manu
produxit, arbos, in nepotum
perniciem opprobriumque pagi;

illum et parentis crediderim sui
fregisse cervicem et penetralia
sparsisse nocturno cruore
hospitis; ille venena Colcha

et quidquid usquam concipitur nefas
tractavit, agro qui statuit meo
te, triste lignum, te, caducum
in domini caput inmerentis

quid quisque vitet, numquam homini satis
cautum est in horas: navita Bosporum
Poenus perhorrescit neque ultra
caeca timet aliunde fata,

miles sagittas et celerem fugam
Parthi, catenas Parthus et Italum
robur; sed inprovisa leti
vis rapuit rapietque gentis.

quam paene furvae regna Proserpinae
et iudicantem vidimus Aeacum
sedesque discriptas piorum et
Aeoliis fidibus querentem

Sappho puellis de popularibus
et te sonantem plenius aureo,
Alcaee, plectro dura navis,
dura fugae mala, dura belli.

utrumque sacro digna silentio
mirantur umbrae dicere, sed magis
pugnas et exactos tyrannos
densum umeris bibit aure volgus.

quid mirum, ubi illis carminibus stupens
demittit atras belua centiceps
auris et intorti capillis
Eumenidum recreantur angues?

quin et Prometheus et Pelopis parens
dulci laborem decipitur sono
nec curat Orion leones
aut timidos agitare lyncas.

Whoever it was that first planted you, he did it on an inauspicious day, and reared you with a sacrilegious hand, tree, for the destruction of his descendants and the shame of his village. I could believe that he had strangled his parents and spattered the inmost chambers of his house at night with the blood of a guest; he dealt in the same poisons that Medea used, and whatever the worst crimes conceivable may be, he committed them, the man who in my field set you, you ruinous lump of timber, one day to fall on your undeserving master’s head. What danger each man needs to avoid is never well enough foreseen from hour to hour – a Phoenician sailor shudders at the thought of the [stormy] Bosphorus, but otherwise does not fear dangers of which he is unaware: for a soldier, it is the Parthian’s arrows and swift withdrawal; for the Parthian, it is chains and the fighting mettle of the Italians, but death in unexpected forms has done for both in the past, and will again. How close I came to seeing the realm of deathly-dark Proserpina, Aeacus delivering judgement, the demesne set aside for the pious, and Sappho lamenting her disappointed love for the girls of Lesbos to her Aeolian music! And you, Alcaeus, sounding more amply with your golden plectrum on your lyre the heavy, heavy hardships of shipboard, of exile, the hardships of war! The shades are entranced at both as they sing songs well worthy of reverent silence, but the crowd, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, drinks in more [Alcaeus’s] tales of battle and the expulsion of tyrants. Is it surprising, when Cerberus the hundred-headed beast, lulled by those songs, lays his dark ears flat, and the serpents of the Furies’ hair unwind and take a break from writhing? Even Prometheus and Tantalus are beguiled in their labour by the sweetness of the sound, and Orion the hunter cannot be bothered to chase the lions or the timid lynxes.

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More Poems by Horace

  1. A change of mind
  2. Augustus, master of the world
  3. Awe for the Gods
  4. Diana and Apollo: a hymn
  5. A Farewell to arms
  6. Soracte
  7. A garland from the Muses
  8. The pleasures and dangers of wine
  9. Glycera
  10. Horace rests from his labours
  11. Wealth should be used, not hoarded
  12. The consolations of wine
  13. A prayer to Mercury
  14. Valgius and Mystes
  15. The final ode
  16. Jealousy
  17. Don’t trust Barine
  18. Licymnia
  19. Tibur or Tarentum: a poet’s dilemma?
  20. Here’s to Murena!
  21. Stormy seas
  22. Horace’s prayer to a wine-jar
  23. Horace’s limitations
  24. What Roman youth should be
  25. Horace returns to lyric poetry
  26. Iccius goes soldiering
  27. Nereus prophesies the Trojan War
  28. Give me comfort, not riches
  29. Numida’s back
  30. Horace’s wine
  31. Pollio’s histories of civil war
  32. The Golden Mean
  33. Celebrating Neptune’s feast day
  34. Lalage is too young
  35. Luxury versus the simple life
  36. Gathering rosebuds: carpe diem
  37. Rome: disaster and salvation
  38. Horace welcomes his army comrade
  39. Horace, the wolf and the upright life
  40. An invitation to Maecenas
  41. Diffugere nives
  42. Horace’s first Ode
  43. Poscimur
  44. A prayer to Venus
  45. Pyrrha
  46. Horace’s reverence to Bacchus
  47. Horace’s Chloe
  48. Fortuna
  49. Unrequited love
  50. Horace the peacemaker
  51. The tug-of-war for Nearchus
  52. Carpe diem, Sestius
  53. Pindar and Augustus
  54. Mourning for a good man
  55. O Fons Bandusiae
  56. A plea for burial
  57. Horace’s monument
  58. Postumus, the years slip by
  59. Some advice for Dellius
  60. Lydia’s tragedy
  61. Housman and Horace
  62. A Prayer to the poetry-God
  63. The fleeting years slip by
  64. Don’t worry, be happy
  65. Lovely mother, lovelier daughter
  66. The country is best
  67. Horace’s Cleopatra ode
  68. Courage and decadence: the Regulus ode
  69. Love a slave-girl? Oh, Xanthias!
  70. Last love