Tuesday, November 30, 2010



Horace, Odes 3.29.29-48 (tr. W.S. Marris):
Yet prescient God hath drawn a veil
  Of blackness o'er the future: men
May fret against their mortal pale;
  And He but laughs. Be tranquil then

Just in the present: all besides
  Is onward like a river borne;
Now smooth unto the sea it glides,
  Now swirls a wreck of trees uptorn,

And hollowed stones and homes and pens,
  'Mid thunder that the woods and hills
Re-echo, till the flood immense
  Arouses e'en the quiet rills.

Lord of his soul and glad is he
  Who can with every sunset say,
'To-morrow, and let Jove decree
  Or sun or storm. I've lived To-day.

'Yet even Jove shall not undo
  What once is past, nor nullify
Nor shape again to fashion new
  What flying Time has carried by.

prudens futuri temporis exitum
caliginosa nocte premit deus
  ridetque si mortalis ultra
    fas trepidat. quod adest memento

componere aequus; cetera fluminis
ritu feruntur, nunc medio alveo
  cum pace delabentis Etruscum
    in mare, nunc lapides adesos

stirpisque raptas et pecus et domos
volentis una, non sine montium
  clamore vicinaeque silvae,
    cum fera diluvies quietos

irritat amnis. ille potens sui
laetusque deget cui licet in diem
  dixisse: "vixi": cras vel atra
    nube polum Pater occupato

vel sole puro; non tamen irritum,
quodcumque retro est, efficiet neque
  diffinget infectumque reddet,
    quod fugiens semel hora vexit.

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