Odes by Horace

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THE ODES AND CARMEN SAECULARE OF HORACE

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QUIS MULTA GRACILIS.


What slender youth, besprinkled with perfume,

Courts you on roses in some grotto's shade?

Fair Pyrrha, say, for whom

Your yellow hair you braid,

So trim, so simple! Ah! how oft shall he

Lament that faith can fail, that gods can change,

Viewing the rough black sea With eyes to tempests strange,

Who now is basking in your golden smile,

And dreams of you still fancy-free, still kind,

Poor fool, nor knows the guile Of the deceitful wind!

Woe to the eyes you dazzle without cloud

Untried! For me, they show in yonder fane

My dripping garments, vow'd To Him who curbs the main.





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