Ode 4.9

A tactful compliment

This ode is one of several in Horace’s fourth book containing the idea that writing poetry and being celebrated in it are ways in which immortality of a sort can be achieved despite the inevitability of physical death, the latter a theme also very widespread in Horace’s poetry. The poem has a comparatively poor reputation with modern commentators: both the long introductory passage about poets of history and the praises of the addressee in the second half are rather awkward both generally and grammatically. Some of the awkwardness may be explained by the identity of the addressee, M. Lollius. He was an ally of Augustus in the 20s BCE and was Consul in 21, but in 16 led a force which was defeated by the Sygambri, a German tribe, an event which became known as the “clades Lolliana”, the “Lollian disaster”. Some scholars think the defeat more significant and some less, but one legion lost its Eagle, surely always a very big deal, and Augustus himself felt it necessary to go on campaign to rectify matters.

Metre: Alcaics.

See the illustrated blog post here.

Reading coming soon.

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Ne forte credas interitura quae
longe sonantem natus ad Aufidum
non ante volgatas per artis
verba loquor socianda chordis:

non, si priores Maeonius tenet
sedes Homerus, Pindaricae latent
Ceaeque et Alcaei minaces
Stesichorique graves Camenae

nec siquid olim lusit Anacreon
delevit aetas; spirat adhuc amor
vivuntque conmissi calores
Aeoliae fidibus puellae.

non sola comptos arsit adulteri
crinis et aurum vestibus inlitum
mirata regalisque cultus
et comites Helene Lacaena

primusve Teucer tela Cydonio
direxit arcu; non semel Ilios
vexata; non pugnavit ingens
Idomeneus Sthenelusve solus

dicenda Musis proelia; non ferox
Hector vel acer Deiphobus gravis
excepit ictus pro pudicis
coniugibus puerisque primus.

vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
multi; sed omnes inlacrimabiles
urgentur ignotique longa
nocte, carent quia vate sacro.

paullum sepultae distat inertiae
celata virtus. non ego te meis
chartis inornatum silebo,
totve tuos patiar labores

inpune, Lolli, carpere lividas
obliviones. est animus tibi
rerumque prudens et secundis
temporibus dubiisque rectus,

vindex avarae fraudis et abstinens
ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniae,
consulque non unius anni,
sed quotiens bonus atque fidus

iudex honestum praetulit utili,
reiecit alto dona nocentium
voltu, per obstantis catervas
explicuit sua victor arma.

non possidentem multa vocaveris
recte beatum; rectius occupat
nomen beati qui deorum
muneribus sapienter uti

duramque callet pauperiem pati
peiusque leto flagitium timet,
non ille pro caris amicis
aut patria timidus perire.

Just in case you should think that the words that I, born by the far-sounding river Aufidus, am speaking, for setting to music by an art not known before, [remember that] while Maeonian Homer may hold first place, Pindar’s Muse and that of Cean [Simonides] are not unknown, nor is Alcaeus’s threatening Muse, nor Stesichorus’s solemn one, nor has time deleted what Anacreon once playfully wrote: to this day, the love of [Sappho] the Aeolian girl breathes still, and the passions that she committed to her music still live on. Laconian Helen is not the only woman who burned for the well-dressed hair of a lover, marvelling at the gold smeared through his clothes and his kingly trappings and attendance, nor was Teucer the first man to fire arrows from a Cretan bow. Troy was not attacked just once, and the colossal Idomeneus and Sthenelus were not the only ones who fought battles worth the Muses’ telling, fierce Hector and grim Deiphobus were not the first to suffer grievous blows for the sake of their chaste wives and their children. Many mighty men lived before Agamemnon, but they all lie unknown and unwept, ssubmrged in endless darkness, because they lack a sacred bard. Hidden virtue differs little from buried indolence. I will not be silent about you and leave you unadorned in my pages, or be resigned, Lollius, to such great exertions as you have undertaken garnering a murky oblivion. You have a soul that adapts astutely to events, is upright whether times are favourable or doubtful, which avenges miserly fraud and leaves money, that draws all to itself, alone, which was consul for more than one year, and which, every time that as a good and faithful judge it put what was right before what was expedient, tossed back the bribes of the guilty with a disdainful look, and which carried its arms in victory through the opposing ranks. You would not be right to call that man blessed who has great possessions: the man more justly bears the name who knows how to use the blessings of the Gods wisely, understands how to endure the hardships of poverty and fears disgrace more than death itself: that is a man who would not be loth to die for his dear friends and his country.

More Poems by Horace

View Latin Poems