[2]Thee bright Learning's ivy crown
Exalts above a mortal fate;
Me shady Groves, light Nymphs, and Satyrs brown,
Raise o'er the Crowd, in sweet sequester'd state.
And there is heard the Lesbian lute,
And there Euterpe's Dorian flute;
But, should'st thou rank me with the lyric Choir,
To Glory's starry heights thy Poet would aspire.—
[1]: The Romans, in general, made no regular meal till the business of the day was over. They considered a mid-day feast as a mark of indolence and luxury.
[2]: “Diis miscent superis.] A manner of expression not unusual amongst the Greeks and Latins, for any eminent degree of happiness. Unless we adopt this explanation of the words, says Dacier, we shall make Horace guilty of a manifest contradiction, since a few lines farther he tells his Patron, that his suffrage, not the ivy crown is that, which will exalt him to the skies. The judicious emendation of the late Bishop of Chichester, who for Me doctarum, reads Te doctarum, removes all objection; and adds beauty to the Ode by the fine compliment it contains to Mæcenas.” Brom. Hor.
TO PYRRHA.
BOOK THE FIRST, ODE THE FIFTH.
Where roses flaunt beneath some pleasant cave,
Too charming Pyrrha, what enamour'd Boy,
Whose shining locks the breathing odors lave,
Woos thee, exulting in a transient joy?
For whom the simple band dost thou prepare,
That lightly fastens back thy golden hair?
Alas! how soon shall this devoted Youth
Love's tyrant sway, and thy chang'd eyes deplore,
Indignant curse thy violated truth,
And count each broken promise o'er and o'er,
Who hopes to meet, unconscious of thy wiles,
Looks ever vacant, ever facile smiles!
He, inexperienc'd Mariner! shall gaze
In wild amazement on the stormy deep,
Recall the flattery of those sunny days,
That lull'd each ruder wind to calmest sleep.
'T was then, with jocund hope, he spread the sail,
In rash dependence on the faithless gale.
Ah Wretch! to whom untried thou seemest fair!
By me, who late thy halcyon surface sung,
[1]The walls of Neptune's fane inscrib'd, declare
That I have dank and dropping garments hung,
Devoted to the God, whose kind decree
Snatch'd me to shore, from an o'erwhelming sea.
[1]: Horace alludes to the custom of the Roman Mariners after a shipwreck—that of suspending their garments, which had been drenched in the storm, in the temple of Neptune, together with a votive tablet, on which the circumstances of the danger and escape, were painted.