The Odes/Book II/19

Book II, 18: Vain Riches

The Odes Book II, 19: To Bacchus written by Horace

Book II, 20: Poetic Immortality

Translated by A. S. Kline Latin original text - French Ulysse de Séguier's translation

To Bacchus I saw Bacchus on distant cliffs - believe me, O posterity - he was teaching songs there, and the Nymphs were learning them, and all the goat-footed Satyrs with pointed ears.   Evoe! My mind fills with fresh fear, my heart filled with Bacchus, is troubled, and violently rejoices. Evoe! Spare me, Liber, dreaded for your mighty thyrsus, spare me.   It’s right to sing of the wilful Bacchantes, the fountain of wine, and the rivers of milk, to sing of the honey that’s welling, and sliding down from the hollow tree-trunks:   It’s right to sing of your bride turned goddess, your Ariadne, crowned among stars: the palace of Pentheus, shattered in ruins, and the ending of Thracian Lycurgus.   You direct the streams, and the barbarous sea, and on distant summits, you drunkenly tie the hair of the Bistonian women, with harmless knots made of venomous snakes.   When the impious army of Giants tried to climb through the sky to Jupiter’s kingdom, you hurled back Rhoetus, with the claws and teeth of the terrifying lion.   Though you’re said to be more suited to dancing, laughter, and games, and not equipped to suffer the fighting, nevertheless you shared the thick of battle as well as the peace.   Cerberus saw you, unharmed, and adorned with your golden horn, and, stroking you gently, with his tail, as you departed, licked your ankles and feet with his triple tongue.   ...