Odes 4.6

Horace’s fame and Apollo’s gift

by Horace

Once again, Horace lays claim in an ode to credit for his achievement in poetry. In 17 BCE, the regime of Augustus staged the secular games, a festival celebrated only once in the lifetime of any living person. One of the central features was the performance by a choir of well-born Roman boys and girls of the carmen saeculare, a once-in-a-century song, and the honour of composing it fell to Horace. His use of his own name at the close, the only place at which it appears in the Odes, is the clearest possible indication of his pride. Both the carmen and this ode are in the same, Sapphic, metre and strongly feature the Gods who were the children of Latona, Artemis and Apollo. Here as elsewhere in the Odes, Horace treats Apollo with special devotion and reverence as the source and patron of his poetic gift.

Horace’s chillingly unsympathetic description of the cruel nature of Achilles presumably owes something to the legend that the imperial family nurtured of its Trojan (and divine) origins via Aeneas, son of the Trojan Anchises and the Goddess Venus. Why no mention of Achilles’s invulnerability except for his heel? Because that part of the myth appears first only in the first century CE, after Horace’s time and maybe 1,000 years after the stories which were to become the Iliad began to coalesce in Greek poetic culture.

Like the preceding poem, Ode 4.5, the poem contains stylistic echoes of the Greek poet Pindar and his praise-poems for eminent men, one of a number of genres for which he was famous. Niobe’s fourteen sons and daughters were killed with arrows by Apollo and Artemis as punishment for boasting that she was happier in her children than the Gods’ mother, Latona. As punishment for trying to rape Latona, the giant Tityos was consigned to Hades, where vultures eternally tore his liver.

See the illustrated blog post here.

Reading coming soon.

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Dive, quem proles Niobea magnae
vindicem linguae Tityosque raptor
sensit et Troiae prope victor altae
Pthius Achilles,

ceteris maior, tibi miles inpar,
filius quamvis Thetidis marinae
Dardanas turris quateret tremenda
cuspide pugnax—

ille, mordaci velut icta ferro
pinus aut inpulsa cupressus Euro,
procidit late posuitque collum in
pulvere Teucro;

ille non inclusus equo Minervae
sacra mentito male feriatos
Troas et laetam Priami choreis
falleret aulam,

sed palam captis gravis, heu nefas, heu,
nescios fari pueros Achivis
ureret flammis, etiam latentem
matris in alvo,

ni tuis victus Venerisque gratae
vocibus divum pater adnuisset
rebus Aeneae potiore ductos
alite muros.

doctor argutae fidicen Thaliae
Phoebe, qui Xantho lavis amne crinis,
Dauniae defende decus Camenae,
levis Agyieu.

spiritum Phoebus, mihi Phoebus artem
carminis nomenque dedit poetae.
virginum primae puerique claris
patribus orti,

Deliae tutela deae, fugacis
lyncas et cervos cohibentis arcu,
Lesbium servate pedem meique
pollicis ictum

rite Latonae puerum canentes,
rite crescentem face Noctilucam,
prosperam frugum celeremque pronos
volvere mensis.

nupta iam dices: ego dis amicum
saeculo festas referente luces
reddidi carmen docilis modorum
vatis Horati.

O God, whose vengeance the children of Niobe felt for her boastful tongue, and the rapist Tityos, and Phthian Achilles, almost the conqueror of lofty Troy, greater as a soldier than the rest, but not your match although he was the son of sea-born Thetis and as a warrior could shake the towers of Troy with his tremendous spear – he, like a pine-tree struck with the biting steel or a cypress driven by the east wind, fell, measuring his full breadth, and laid his neck in the dust of Teucria. He would not have deceived the Trojans in their ill-fated celebrations, and the hall of Priam, joyful in dance, by shutting himself in a horse feigning an offering to Minerva, no, not he: openly – sacrilege, alas, alas! – he would have been bane to his captives and burned infants with Greek fire, even those still lying in a mother’s womb, had the father of the gods not been won over by your supplications and those of lovely Venus, and nodded his consent that Aeneas’s lot should be city walls marked out under more favourable omens. Instructor of clear-voiced Thalia in the lyre, Phoebus, who wash your hair in the river Xanthus, defend the glory of the Muses of Italy, smooth-cheeked Agyieus. Phoebus it was, Phoebus, who conferred on me inspiration, the art of song and the name of poet. You, the pick of young [Roman] girls, and you, boys sprung from famous fathers, now entrusted to the protection of the Delian Goddess who checks fleeing stags and lynxes with her bow, follow the Lesbian metre and the beat of my thumb, duly singing of Latona’s boy, and duly of [Diana] the lightener of night as her torch grows brighter, propitious to crops and swift to roll forward the headlong months. One day, when you are married, you will say: I, when the century brought round again the lights of its festival, performed the carmen saeculare, pleasing to the Gods, skilled in the measures of Horace the bard.

`

More Poems by Horace

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

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