Odes 1.19

Glycera

by Horace

At first sight, this is a conventional little piece. A man suddenly finding himself gripped by passions that he thought were dead is a stock theme of both Roman and Greek poetry. The references to Scythians and Parthian warriors imply that the speaker wants to be writing about epic themes and the distractions are preventing him. There is something unusual here, however. If this were a love-poet like Propertius or Tibullus, the point would probably be the woman’s unavailability, a problem that the speaker would be keen to solve. Here, the indications are that she may well be available, but, unusually, the speaker wants to slow things down – though he does not seem to be saying “no”.

The closeness of the association between Venus’s divine actions and Glycera as the human woman in whom they are personified is very striking, especially towards the end of the poem: grammatically, the blood sacrifice in the last line could be read as placating either or both of them, though it is hard for a modern reader to judge whether such ambiguity might be intentional on Horace’s part.

See the illustrated blog post here.

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Mater saeva Cupidinum
Thebanaeque iubet me Semelae puer
et lasciva Licentia
finitis animum reddere amoribus.
urit me Glycerae nitor
splendentis Pario marmore purius,
urit grata protervitas
et voltus nimium lubricus aspici.
in me tota ruens Venus
Cyprum deseruit nec patitur Scythas
aut versis animosum equis
Parthum dicere nec quae nihil attinent.
hic vivum mihi caespitem, hic
verbenas, pueri, ponite turaque
bimi cum patera meri:
mactata veniet lenior hostia.

Venus, fierce mother of the cupids, and Bacchus, child of Theban Semele, and wanton Licentiousness command me to surrender myself to loves that I thought were finished. Radiant Glycera’s glow, purer than Parian marble, sets me on fire; so does her engaging forwardness, and her face, too unsettling for my eyes to rest on. Venus has left Cyprus for an all-out assault on me, and does not allow me to compose poetry on the Scythians, or the Parthians wheeling their horses around, nor anything else that is not about her. Slaves, lay me here a living turf, and bring here greenery for the sacrifice and incense, with a libation-cup of two-year wine: she will come on more gently when I have killed her a victim.

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