ODE VIII.-TO BARINE *

HORACE denies that the oath of Barine should induce him t believe her; for the gods never punished the perjuries of beauties.

Ir e'er th' insulted powers had shed
Their vengeance on thy perjured head;
If they had mark'd thy faithless truth
With one foul nail, or blacken'd tooth,
Again thy falsehood might deceive,
And I the faithless vow believe,

But when, perfidious, you engage
To meet high heaven's vindictive rage,
You rise, with heighten'd lustre fair,
Of all our youth the public care.

It thrives with thee to be forsworn
By thy dead mother's hallow'd urn:
By heaven, and all the stars that roll
In silent circuit round the pole;
By heaven, and every nightly sign,
By every deathless power divine.

Yes; Venus laughs, the nymphs with smiles,
The simple nymphs! behold thy wiles,
And with the blood of some poor swain,
By thy perfidious beauty slain,

Fierce Cupid whets his burning darts,
For thee to wound new lovers' hearts.
Thy train of slaves grows every day,
Infants are rising to thy sway,

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* The gallantry of this ode is of a very particular kind. The poet pays such compliments to Barine's beauty as are almost worth a woman's perjury to deserve; especially when every new instance of deceiving gives a new charm.

4 The ancients believed that a lie was always attended with some immediate punishment,-the loss of a tooth, a blister on the tongue, &c.

And they, who swore to break thy chain,
Yet haunt those impious doors again.
Thee for their boys the mothers fear,
The frugal father for his heir,
And weeping stands the virgin bride,
In Hymen's fetters lately tied,
Lest you detain, with brighter charms,
Her perjured husband from her arms.

ODE IX.-TO VALGIUS.*

HORACE Comforts his friend for the loss of his son.

NOR everlasting rain deforms

The squalid fields, nor endless storms,
Inconstant, vex the Caspian main,
Nor on Armenia's frozen plain
The loit'ring snow unmelting lies,
Nor loud when northern winds arise,
The labouring forests bend the head,
Nor yet their leafy honours shed:
Yet still in elegiac strains

My Valgius for his son complains,

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To know how to comfort the afflicted is a talent which few people possess, while every one is willing to make trial of his skill. But indeed it were better in losses that are without remedy to talk to the heart than the understanding; for motives of consolation, which are most natural and obvious, are fre quently more successful than the gravest maxims of morality, and the most curious refinements of reason. Such is the method of Horace in comforting a father afflicted for the death of a son whom he tenderly loved. He does not condemn his grief, but proposes to him to stop the continuance of it, or at least to suspend its course. It is not difficult to ascertain the date of this ode. The two last strophes show that it was writ ten in 734, the year after Augustus's Armenian expedition.-San. 4 Armenia is surrounded with mountains continually covered with snow. The nature of the soil which is impregnated with salt, contributes to the coldness of the climate, nor is it un common to see frost and snow there in the month of June.San.

When Vesper lifts his ev'ning ray,
Or flies the rapid beam of day.

Not for his son the Grecian sage,
Renown'd for thrice the mortal age:
Not for their youthful brother dead
Such sorrows Priam's daughters shed.
At length these weak complaints give o'er,
Indulge th' unmanly grief no more,
But let us bolder sweep the string,
And Cæsar's new-raised trophies sing;
The Tigris, and its freezing flood,
Euphrates, with its realms, subdued;
Whose waves are taught with humbler pride
Smoother to roll their lessening tide:
The Scythians, who reluctant yield,
Nor pour their squadrons o'er the field.

ODE X.-TO LICINIUS MURENA.*

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THE poet advises Licinius to moderate his desires, and to main tain an evenness of temper.

LICINIUS, Would you live with ease,
Tempt not too far the faithless seas,
And when you hear the tempest roar,
Press not too near the unequal shore.

*Licinius was a young man of an ardent, restless, and ambitious spirit. He had ruined his fortune in the civil wars, when his brother Proculeius, with an uncommon generosity, divided. his patrimony with him and Terentius. But a state of depen dance and mediocrity was by no means suited to his humour and having engaged himself in a conspiracy against Augustus he was banished, and afterward put to death, notwithstanding all the interest of Proculeius and Mæcenas, who had married his sister Terentia. Horace, who knew his temper, lays down some general rules for his conduct, but without any application which could either disoblige or injure him. The sentiments of this ode are entirely moral, but enlivened by different metaphors and animated by different comparisons; for if morality be not treated with art and spirit, it will disgust by its dryness, or grow tedious by its length.-San.

The man, within the golden mean,
Who can his boldest wish contain,
Securely views the ruin'd cell,
Where sordid want, and sorrow dwell,
And in himself serenely great,
Declines an envied room of state.
When high in air the pine ascends,
To every ruder blast it bends.

The palace falls with heavier weight,
When tumbling from its airy height;

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And when from heaven the lightning flies, 15
It blasts the hills that proudest rise.
Whoe'er enjoys th' untroubled breast,
With virtue's tranquil wisdom bless'd,
With hope the gloomy hour can cheer,
And temper happiness with fear.

If Jove the winter's horrors bring,
Yet Jove restores the genial spring.
Then let us not of fate complain,
For soon shall change the gloomy scene.
Apollo sometimes can inspire

The silent muse, and wake the lyre:
The deathful bow not always plies,
Th' unerring dart not always flies.

When fortune, various goddess, lowers,

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Collect your strength, exert your powers; 30
But when she breathes a kinder gale,

Be wise, and furl your swelling sail.

ODE XI.-TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS.* HORACE endeavours to divert the mind of Quintius to a taste for gayety and enjoyment.

Be not anxious, friend, to know
What our fierce Cantabrian fue,

The design of this ode is well supported. The opening is serious, but the scene grows lively by degrees, and the two actors at the end are seated in a rural arbour near a river's side calling for wine and music.-San.

What intends the Scythian's pride,
Far from us whom seas divide.
Tremble not with vain desires,
Few the things which life requires.
Youth with rapid swiftness flies,
Beauty's lustre quickly dies,
Wither'd age drives far away
Gentle sleep, and amorous play.
When in vernal bloom they glow,
Flowers their gayest honours show.
Nor the moon with equal grace
Always lifts her ruddy face.
Thus while nature's works decay,
Busy mortal, prithee say,
Why do you fatigue the mind,
Not for endless schemes design'd?
Thus beneath this lofty shade,
Thus in careless freedom laid,
While Assyrian essence sheds
Liquid fragrance on our heads,
While we lie with roses crown'd,
Let the cheerful bowl go round:
Bacchus can our cares control,
Cares that prey upon the soul.

Who shall from the passing stream

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Quench our wine's Falernian flame?

Who the vagrant wanton bring,

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Mistress of the lyric string,
With her flowing tresses tied,
Loosely, like a Spartan bride?

11 Nothing is less durable than flowers in spring; nothing more changeable than the moon; yet these are the best images of human life. Why then should creatures, by nature formed to morta.y, fatigue themselves with endless and uncertain projects? From these grand principles a cheerful enjoyment of the present hour is a conclusion not unworthy of an Epicurean moralist. Torr. an.