| Carminum Liber I: iv | Odes, 1.4 | |
|---|---|---|
Solvitur acris hiems grata vice veris et Favoni, trahuntque siccas machinae carinas. ac neque iam stabulis gaudet pecus aut arator igni; nec prata canis albicant pruinis. iam Cytherea choros ducit Venus imminente luna, iunctaeque Nymphis Gratiae decentes alterno terram quatiunt pede, dum gravis Cyclopum Vulcanus ardens urit officinas. nunc decet aut viridi nitidum caput impedire myrto aut flore, terrae quem ferunt solutae. nunc et in umbrosis Fauno decet immolare lucis, seu poscat agna sive malit haedo. pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas regnumque turris. o beate Sesti, vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam; iam te premet nox fabulaeque Manes et domus exilis Plutonia; quo simul mearis, nec regna vini sortiere talis nec tenerum Lycidan mirabere, quo calet iuventus nunc omnis et mox virgines tepebunt. |
Spring’s pleasant return, with western winds, now softens the sharpness of winter; engines are launching the dry hulls of ships. Cattle no longer rejoice in their stables nor herdsmen by the fire; nor do the meadows now whiten with hoarfrost. Cytherean Venus is leading her choirs beneath the pendant moon; the seemly Graces, along with the nymphs, strike the earth – one foot, then another; while Vulcan, glowing, is setting alight the great forges of the Cyclopes. Now it is fitting to crown shining hair with green myrtle, or the flowers unfettered lands are bearing; now, too, it is fitting to make sacrifice, in shady groves, to Faunus, with a lamb or a kid. But still pale even-paced Death is knocking at the hovels of paupers and the palaces of kings; O happy Sestius, the shortness of life keeps humans from holding too long to hope. Soon night will press you, and the storied spirits, and Pluto’s impoverished house; and once past those portals, you’ll never again cast lots for control of the wine, nor admire again soft, youthful Lycidas, for whom all the young men now burn, and for whom all the girls will soon glow with desire. |
