User:Phy1729/Horace/Ode 1.1

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Ode 1.1
by [[Author:Author:Horace|Author:Horace]], translated by User:Phy1729
Original Latin Literal English Translation

Maecenas atavis edite regibus,
o et praesidium et dulce decus meum:
sunt, quos curriculo pulverem Olympicum
collegisse iuvat metaque fervidis
evitata rotis palmaque nobilis

terrarum dominos evehit ad deos;

hunc, si mobilium turba Quiritium
certat tergeminis tollere honoribus;
illum, si proprio condidit horreo
quicquid de Libycis uerritur areis.
Gaudentem patrios findere sarculo
agros Attalicis condicionibus
numquam demoueas, ut trabe Cypria
Myrtoum pauidus nauta secet mare.
Luctantem Icariis fluctibus Africum
mercator metuens otium et oppidi
laudat rura sui; mox reficit rates
quassas, indocilis pauperiem pati.
Est qui nec ueteris pocula Massici
nec partem solido demere de die
spernit, nunc uiridi membra sub arbuto
stratus, nunc ad aquae lene caput sacrae.
Multos castra iuuant et lituo tubae
permixtus sonitus bellaque matribus
detestata. Manet sub Ioue frigido
uenator tenerae coniugis inmemor,
seu uisa est catulis cerua fidelibus,
seu rupit teretis Marsus aper plagas.
Me doctarum hederae praemia frontium
dis miscent superis, me gelidum nemus
Nympharumque leues cum Satyris chori
secernunt populo, si neque tibias
Euterpe cohibet nec Polyhymnia
Lesboum refugit tendere barbiton.
Quod si me lyricis uatibus inseres,
sublimi feriam sidera uertice.

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Maecenas descendant from a royal ancestor,
O both my protection and sweet glory:
there are [those], whom it pleases to collect Olympic
dust in a chariot and the post [end] having been avoided
with burning wheels and the noble palm
raises [them] the masters of the worlds to the gods
Or
raises [them] to the gods masters of the worlds
[it pleases] this man, if a crowd of fickle Romans
strive to raise him with triple offices,
[it pleases] that man if he stores in his own store house,
whatever is collected on Libyan floors.
You may never remove the one rejoicing to dig up
his native fields with a hoe on the turns
of Attalicus, to cut Myrtoum sea on
Cyprian wood as a frightened sailor;
the merchant fearing the South-west wind
wrestling the Icarian sea praises leisure and
the fields of his own town, soon he repairs his broken
ships untrained to endure poverty.
[There] is he who does not spurn the cup of Massic [old]
wine nor taking away [off] parts of a whole
day, now streching his limbs under a virile arbutus
tree, now next to the gentle source of a sacred spring;
camps please many and the sound of a straight trumpet [tuba]
mixed with a curved trumpet and wars detested
by mothers; the hunter remains under frigid
Jove [sky] and he is forgetful of his tender [young] wife,
whether the deer has been seen by faithful dogs
or a Marsian boar breaks the smooth nets;
The ivy, a reward of learned foreheads
mingles me with the gods above, an icy grove
and swift chorus of Nymphs with Satyrs
separates me from the people, if Eutrepe does
not hold back the tibia [flute], nor Polyhymnia
avoid playing the Lesbian lyre.
But if you will include me with lyric poets,
I will strike the stars with my lofty head.