Horace -- Translations into English; Latin poetry -- Translations into English
Desirous I am, my good father, [to do this,] but my strength fails me,
nor can any one describe the troops bristled with spears, nor the Gauls
dying on their shivered darts, nor the wounded Parthian falling from his
horse. Nevertheless you may describe him just and brave, as the wise
Lucilius did Scipio. I will not be wanting to myself, when an
opportunity presents itself: no verses of Horace's, unless well-timed,
will gain the attention of Caesar; whom, [like a generous steed,] if you
stroke awkwardly, he will kick upon you, being at all quarters on his
guard. How much better would this be, than to wound with severe satire
Pantolabus the buffoon, and the rake Nomentanus! when every body is
afraid for himself, [lest he should be the next,] and hates you, though
he is not meddled with. What shall I do? Milonius falls a dancing the
moment he becomes light-headed and warm, and the candles appear
multiplied. Castor delights in horsemanship: and he, who sprang from the
same egg, in boxing. As many thousands of people [as there are in the
world], so many different inclinations are there. It delights me to
combine words in meter, after the manner of Lucilius, a better man than
both of us. He long ago communicated his secrets to his books, as to
faithful friends; never having recourse elsewhere, whether things went
well or ill with him: whence it happens, that the whole life of this old
[poet] is as open to the view, as if it had been painted en a votive
tablet. His example I follow, though in doubt whether I am a Lucanian or
an Apulian; for the Venusinian farmers plow upon the boundaries of both
countries, who (as the ancient tradition has it) were sent, on the
expulsion of the Samnites, for this purpose, that the enemy might not
make incursions on the Romans, through a vacant [unguarded frontier]: or
lest the Apulian nation, or the fierce Lucanian, should make an
invasion. But this pen of mine shall not willfully attack any man
breathing, and shall defend me like a sword that is sheathed in the
scabbard which why should I attempt to draw, [while I am] safe from
hostile villains? O Jupiter, father and sovereign, may my weapon laid
aside wear away with rust, and may no one injure me, who am desirous of
peace? But that man shall provoke me (I give notice, that it is better
not to touch me) shall weep [his folly], and as a notorious character
shall be sung through all the streets of Rome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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