Venice masks

Monday 27 November 2017

Ode XIV: To the Roman State - Horace

O ship, new waves will bear you back again to sea.
O what are you doing? Bravely seize the port.
Do you not perceive, that your sides are destitute of oars,
and your mast wounded by the violent south wind,
and your main-yards groan,
and your keel can scarcely support the impetuosity of the waves
without the help of cordage?
You have not entire sails;
nor gods, whom you may again invoke, pressed with distress:
notwithstanding you are made of the pines of Pontus,
and as the daughter of an illustrious wood,
boast your race, and a fame now of no service to you.
The timorous sailor has no dependence on a painted stern.
Look to yourself, unless you are destined to be the sport of the winds.
O thou, so lately my trouble and fatigue,
but now an object of tenderness and solicitude,
mayest thou escape those dangerous seas
which flow among the shining Cyclades.

Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) (65-8 BC) Italy (Ancient Rome)
Translated by C. Smart
Source: The Works of Horace Translated Literally Into English Prose, Christopher Smart & Philip Francis, Evert Duyckinck, 1821

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