Odes 3.27

Europa’s lament

by Horace

This is a puzzling, but charming poem. The setting of the first half – a wistful but benevolent farewell to Galatea, who seems to be on her way to a sea-voyage from Brundisium – seems too specific to be just an invented commonplace. Who is she, and is the speaker of the poem in some way the “real” Horace? And what is the connection between the first part of the poem and the long treatment of the myth of Europa in the second half? It is hard to imagine any sense in which the bull represents “Horace”, and it would be against the poignant tone of the parting from Galatea if it were intended to represent another lover awaiting her after her sea-voyage. Perhaps we should just embrace the mystery and enjoy the poem.

Metre: Sapphics.

See the illustrated blog post here.

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Inpios parrae recinentis omen
ducat et praegnans canis aut ab agro
rava decurrens lupa Lanuvino
fetaque volpes;

rumpat et serpens iter institutum,
si per obliquum similis sagittae
terruit mannos: ego cui timebo,
providus auspex,

antequam stantis repetat paludes
imbrium divina avis imminentium,
oscinem corvum prece suscitabo
solis ab ortu.

sis licet felix, ubicumque mavis,
et memor nostri, Galatea, vivas
teque nec laevos vetet ire picus
nec vaga cornix.

sed vides, quanto trepidet tumultu
pronus Orion. ego quid sit ater
Hadriae novi sinus et quid albus
peccet Iapyx.

hostium uxores puerique caecos
sentiant motus orientis Austri et
aequoris nigri fremitum et trementis
verbere ripas.

sic et Europe niveum doloso
credidit tauro latus et scatentem
beluis pontum mediasque fraudes
palluit audax.

nuper in pratis studiosa florum et
debitae Nymphis opifex coronae
nocte sublustri nihil astra praeter
vidit et undas.

quae simul centum tetigit potentem
oppidis Creten, “pater, o relictum
filiae nomen pietasque” dixit
“victa furore!

unde quo veni? levis una mors est
virginum culpae. vigilansne ploro
turpe conmissum an vitiis carentem
ludit imago

vana, quae porta fugiens eburna
somnium ducit? meliusne fluctus
ire per longos fuit an recentis
carpere flores?

siquis infamem mihi nunc iuvencum
dedat iratae, lacerare ferro et
frangere enitar modo multum amati
cornua monstri.

inpudens liqui patrios Penates,
inpudens Orcum moror. o deorum
siquis haec audis, utinam inter errem
nuda leones.

antequam turpis macies decentis
occupet malas teneraeque sucus
defluat praedae, speciosa quaero
pascere tigris

“vilis Europe” pater urget absens:
“quid mori cessas? potes hac ab orno
pendulum zona bene te secuta
laedere collum.

sive te rupes et acuta leto
saxa delectant, age te procellae
crede veloci, nisi erile mavis
carpere pensum

regius sanguis dominaeque tradi
barbarae paelex.”” aderat querenti
perfidum ridens Venus et remisso
filius arcu.

mox ubi lusit satis, “abstineto”
dixit “irarum calidaeque rixae,
cum tibi invisus laceranda reddet
cornua taurus.

uxor invicti Iovis esse nescis.
mitte singultus, bene ferre magnam
disce fortunam; tua sectus orbis
nomina ducet.”

Let an inauspicious bird repeatedly calling, and a pregnant bitch, or a livid-grey she-wolf running down from the fields of Lanuvium, and a vixen which has just whelped be the omens that guide the impious on the road, and let a snake interrupt the journey they undertake, if one scares the horses from the side, like an arrow: I, however, am a provident prophet for the one I care for, and with a dawn prayer will summon the portent of a crow, bird prophetic of approaching rains, before it can return to its placid marshes. May you be happy, Galatea, wherever you care to live; do not forget me, and may no wandering raven or a woodpecker from your left keep you from your journey. But you can see with what an uproar Orion is trembling as he sets! I have learned myself what the black gulf of the Adriatic is like, and what damage the clear nor-nor-wester can do. May my enemies’ wives and children feel the blind rush as the south wind gets up, and the seething of the black waters, and the shoreline shuddering at the blow! Thus it was when Europa entrusted her white flank to the scheming bull, and in spite of her daring went pale at the ocean swarming with sea-creatures and its deep-water deceptions: only just now she had been absorbed in the flowers in the meadow and carefully crafting the crown she had promised the nymphs; now, in the obscurity of night, she could see nothing except the stars and the waves. No sooner had she reached Crete, powerful for its hundred towns, than “Father,” she said, “your daughter has forfeited her name and her duty, overcome by madness! Where have I been, where am I going?  One death is light penalty for virgins’ guilt! Am I awake as I deplore the sin I have committed, or is it an empty vision that is deceiving me, which has escaped from the ivory gate and brought me a dream? Was it better to travel far across the seas than to gather fresh flowers? I am furious, and if someone delivered that disgraceful bull-calf up to me now, I would do my best to slash it with the sword, and break the horns of the monster that I cared so much for just now! I was shameless to leave my father’s house, and I am shameless to shirk the underworld. O, if some God hears this, may I wander naked among lions! Before ugly wasting can take over my lovely cheeks and the moisture drain from their tender prey, I beg that tigers may feed on me while my beauty remains! “Base Europa,” my absent father is saying, “why do you hesitate to die? It is good that you brought your girdle, you can hang yourself from that ash-tree and break your neck! Or if cliffs and deadly-sharp rocks appeal to you, go on, trust yourself to the swift breeze, unless you would rather choose a budget of wool for a mistress to work, and, though your blood is royal, to be given to a barbarian mistress as a concubine!”” Venus was by, smiling perfidiously, as Europa made her lament, and Cupid, with his bow unstrung. When she had amused herself enough, “Don’t be angry,” she said, “and no hot brawling when the bull that you are so angry with brings back his horns for you to tear. What you don’t know, is that you are the bride of unconquerable Jove! Stop your sobbing and learn to bear your great good fortune: half the world will bear your name!”

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More Poems by Horace

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

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