Ode 3.24

A call for a moral renaissance

by Horace

While the theme – moral rearmament as the key to preventing the recommencement of civil war – is familiar from many other odes, this one is unusual. The message is direct and unvarnished. There are no gods, no myths, no addressee, no Muses or reflections on poetical art to soften or distract from it. The unnamed “you” whom Horace speaks to is a generic Roman who either commits the faults that the poem describes, or stands by while others do. The unnamed man at the middle of the poem who can put a bridle on excess is clearly Augustus, who tried, with limited success early in his reign, to legislate for a return to more traditional and austere social and moral values. The poem, coming as what Horace intended to be his final book of odes draws towards its end, could not be more emphatic or nakedly political.

How closely the standards proposed may have been reflected in Horace’s own life is an interesting question. He was unmarried, but writes like a man with a sex-life, though none of the poems which have love-making in them can be taken to be crudely autobiographical. In the poetry, which of course cannot be taken literally, many of his potential partners appear to be professionals, and none is clearly married to someone else. The ancient “Life of Horace” paints him as a highly-sexed person, giving such details as a bedroom with mirrored walls, on what authority we do not know. How the unmarried Horace, and others in a similar position, managed that side of life in a society built on slavery is not the most comfortable subject for speculation.

Metre: Asclepiad

See the illustrated blog post here.

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Intactis opulentior
thesauris Arabum et divitis Indiae
caementis licet occupes
terrenum omne tuis et mare publicum:

si figit adamantinos
summis verticibus dira Necessitas
clavos, non animum metu,
non mortis laqueis expedies caput.

campestres melius Scythae,
quorum plaustra vagas rite trahunt domos
vivunt et rigidi Getae,
inmetata quibus iugera liberas

fruges et Cererem ferunt
nec cultura placet longior annua
defunctumque laboribus
aequali recreat sorte vicarius.

illic matre carentibus
privignis mulier temperat innocens
nec dotata regit virum
coniunx nec nitido fidit adultero;

dos est magna parentium
virtus et metuens alterius viri
certo foedere castitas,
et peccare nefas aut pretium est mori.

o quisquis volet inpias
caedis et rabiem tollere civicam,
si quaeret pater urbium
subscribi statuis, indomitam audeat

refrenare licentiam,
clarus postgenitis: quatenus, heu nefas
virtutem incolumem odimus,
sublatam ex oculis quaerimus invidi.

quid tristes querimoniae,
si non supplicio culpa reciditur,
quid leges sine moribus
vanae proficiunt, si neque fervidis

pars inclusa caloribus
mundi nec Boreae finitimum latus
durataeque solo nives
mercatorem abigunt, horrida callidi

vincunt aequora navitae,
magnum pauperies opprobrium iubet
quidvis et facere et pati
virtutisque viam deserit arduae?

vel nos in Capitolium,
quo clamor vocat et turba faventium,
vel nos in mare proximum
gemmas et lapides aurum et inutile,

summi materiem mali,
mittamus, scelerum si bene paenitet.
eradenda cupidinis
pravi sunt elementa et tenerae nimis

mentes asperioribus
formandae studiis. nescit equo rudis
haerere ingenuus puer
venarique timet, ludere doctior,

seu Graeco iubeas trocho
seu malis vetita legibus alea,
cum periura patris fides
consortem socium fallat et hospites

indignoque pecuniam
heredi properet. scilicet inprobae
crescunt divitiae, tamen
curtae nescio quid semper abest rei.

Well may you, more egregiously rich than the untapped treasures of the Arabs and wealthy India, fill your own land with building materials, and the sea, which belongs to everyone, as well: still, if grim Necessity fixes her nails of adamant in your rooftops, you cannot free your head from death’s noose or your mind from fear. The rural Scythians, whose wagons carry their nomadic homes in their ancestral fashion, live better than that, and so do the Getae, whose immeasurable plain bears them wild fruits and grain, who don’t care to cultivate for more than one year, and of whom every one, when his labours are done, is succeeded by someone else with just the same lot. There, stepmothers behave gently to their motherless stepchildren, rich wives do not lord it over their husbands or put their trust in a flashy lover. The dowry they bring is the great virtue of their parents, and chastity that shuns other men in an unshakeable marriage bond – breaking it is forbidden on pain of death. If a man wants to remove the threat of slaughter and the madness of civil war, if he wants to have “father of cities” inscribed on his statues, let him win fame with posterity by having the courage to rein in unchecked licentiousness. How wicked it is, I am sorry to say, that through envy we despise virtue when it is living among us, and miss it only once it is gone! What good is bitter complaining, unless guilt is excised by retribution, or empty legislation, if not backed by morality, when even the regions of the world wrapped in searing heat or those hard against the north wind, and snows that stay solid on the ground, cannot keep a merchant away and his canny sailors overcome the roughness of the seas, while poverty induces people to accept the immense shame of doing or putting up with absolutely anything, abandoning the steep path of virtue? If our revulsion for crime is genuine, let us lodge our gems, precious stones and useless gold, in which the worst evil breeds, on the Capitol, where shouts and crowds of supporters call for them, or sink them in the nearest sea. Whatever leads to immoral desires must be erased, and minds that are too soft must be moulded by sterner teaching. The free-born boy is untrained, cannot sit a horse and is afraid to go hunting; he knows better how to play, with a Greek hoop maybe, or perhaps rather with dice in defiance of the law, while his perjured father cheats his guest and business partner and channels money to his worthless heir. Yes, shameful wealth does grow, but an emasculated fortune always has something lacking.

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More Poems by Horace

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