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.

`

More Poems by Horace

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

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