Odes by Horace

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THE ODES AND CARMEN SAECULARE OF HORACE

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MERCURI FACUNDE.


Grandson of Atlas, wise of tongue,

O Mercury, whose wit could tame

Man's savage youth by power of song

And plastic game!

Thee sing I, herald of the sky,

Who gav'st the lyre its music sweet,

Hiding whate'er might please thine eye

In frolic cheat.

See, threatening thee, poor guileless child,

Apollo claims, in angry tone,

His cattle;--all at once he smiled,

His quiver gone.

Strong in thy guidance, Hector's sire

Escaped the Atridae, pass'd between

Thessalian tents and warders' fire,

Of all unseen.

Thou lay'st unspotted souls to rest; Thy golden rod pale spectres know; Blest power! by all thy brethren blest,

Above, below!




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