Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Horace's Epistles 1.1.1-19

First utterance of mine, now by the highest of Camenae to be
Uttered, do you presently ask of one sufficiently played and given
The rod, Maecenas, do you ask me to include myself again
In antique games? The age is not the same, and neither is my mind;
Veianius too left arms by Alcmaeon's post and hid himself
All tucked up in a field, lest he should have to beg the crowd
From extreme sands. I have a voice, furthermore, constantly resounding
In my expurgated ear: "Dissolve senescent stallions, oh ripely sane, lest
They should stumble at the last and lead off laughed at flanks."
So now and in likewise I put aside my verse and games:
What is only true, and decent, that is my care, that I ask, and turn
My whole being to the task. So I store and set aside what I could lead
Out by and by. Ah, but lest you ask beneath what Lar or leader I am kept:
Addicted to swear by the words of no master, as the 'whether'
Changes (and however I am taken) there I go as guest.
Today I'll be supple and immerse myself in crowding waves, custodian
Of valid virtue and unswayed, her satellite, but on the morrow Aristippus'
Precepts are my private labor and I try to ride things, not have them
Ride me.

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