Odes 2.18

Luxury versus the simple life

by Horace

This Ode deals with a well-precedented subject. The idea that the good life involves avoiding luxury, and contentment with moderation and simple country living, goes back to Horace’s ancient Greek lyric models and was echoed by contemporaries including Lucretius, the Epicurean philosopher-naturalist, and Vergil in his Georgic poems on agriculture. That said, Horace makes it his own, here and elsewhere in the Odes, and it sits well with his consistent presentation of himself as settled, unassuming but proudly fulfilled by his art as a poet, and devoted to the Emperor Augustus and his minister Maecenas, the patron who gave him his Sabine farm.

The metre is one that Horace uses only here: ancient sources suggest that Alcaeus, perhaps his favourite Greek model, may have used it, but no example has survived: there is only one other, obscure, example of it in Latin poetry.  The even rhythm, and the presence of a pronounced caesura or break after the fifth syllable in each longer line, lend it a chanting, sing-song character. It is called Hipponactaean, consisting (in case you are a metrical buff) of couplets with a catalectic trochaic dimeter followed by a catalectic iambic trimeter.

A few references: Attalus, King of Pergamon, unexpectedly turned out to have bequeathed his kingdom to Rome when he died in 133 BC; Spartan purple cloth was a prestige product (though there is something a bit odd about the text here); Baiae was Rome’s rich man’s seaside resort; jumping boundaries was a serious transgression, and every Roman encountering this poem would know that Romulus killed his twin, Remus, for doing it; Tantalus is a mythical figure with a rich provenance, but his significance here is that his punishment in Hades was always to be desiring what was out of his reach; Prometheus was the Titan who took fire from the Gods and gave it to man, and Charon is the ferryman who takes dead souls across the Styx to the underworld – and makes sure they can’t go back.

I acknowledge the help given by Stephen Harrison’s Cambridge edition of Odes 2 in presenting this poem: he often makes good suggestions for translating Horace’s turns of phrase, and I have followed several of them.

See the illustrated blog post here.

To listen, press play:

To scroll the original and English translation of the poem at the same time - tap inside one box to select it and then scroll.

Non ebur neque aureum
mea renidet in domo lacunar;
non trabes Hymettiae
premunt columnas ultima recisas
Africa, neque Attali
ignotus heres regiam occupavi,
nec Laconicas mihi
trahunt honestae purpuras clientae.
At fides et ingeni
benigna vena est pauperemque dives
me petit; nihil supra
deos lacesso nec potentem amicum
largiora flagito,
satis beatus unicis Sabinis.
Truditur dies die
novaeque pergunt interire lunae;
tu secanda marmora
locas sub ipsum funus et sepulcri
inmemor struis domos
marisque Bais obstrepentis urges
summovere litora,
parum locuples continente ripa.
Quid quod usque proximos
revellis agri terminos et ultra
limites clientium
salis avarus? Pellitur paternos
in sinu ferens deos
et uxor et vir sordidosque natos.
Nulla certior tamen
rapacis Orci fine destinata
aula divitem manet
erum. Quid ultra tendis? Aequa tellus
pauperi recluditur
regumque pueris, nec satelles Orci
callidum Promethea
revexit auro captus. Hic superbum
Tantalum atque Tantali
genus coercet, hic levare functum
pauperem laboribus
vocatus atque non vocatus audit.

No ivory gleams in my home,
and no gilded, coffered ceiling;
no architraves of Attic marble
crush down on pillars quarried
in farthest Africa, nor have I taken
over Attalus’s kingdom as his
unwitting heir, nor do any high-born
client ladies weave Spartan purple cloth
for me. But there is loyalty there
and a rich vein of talent, and the
rich man actually courts me, though I
am poor: I do not bother the Gods
for anything more, pester my rich friend
for greater wealth, blessed enough just
in my Sabine lands. One day is jostled
along by the next and new moons hurry on
to die: you, however, on the verge of your
own funeral, let a contract for quarrying
marble; with no thought for the tomb,
you pile up your mansions, pressing ahead
to shift the shores of the sea that breaks
against Baiae, not rich enough with just what
is on dry land, and do you really go so far
as to pull up your neighbour’s field-markers
and leap over your clients’ boundaries in
your greed? Husband and wife are driven out,
with their household gods and dishevelled
children clutched to their bosom. Even so,
no palace awaits its master more surely than
the end fixed by greedy Hades. What more
are you striving for? The impartial earth opens
both for pauper’s sons and sons of kings,
nor did Hades’ guardian, won over by gold,
bring Prometheus, for all his wiliness, back
to life: here he confines proud Tantalus and all
of his descent; here, whether they like it or not, Charon answers the call to grant relief  to poor men whose labours are done.

`

More Poems by Horace

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