From Odes of Horace, Book Three New Version by Ronan O’Donnell
XXX Exegi monumentum aere perennius regalique situ pyramidum altius, quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens possit diruere aut innumerabilis annorum series et fuga temporum. non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei vitabit Libitinam: usque ego postera crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium scandet cum tacita virgine pontifex. dicar, qua violens obstrepit Aufidus et qua pauper aquae Daunus agrestium regnavit populorum, ex humili potens princeps Aeolium carmen ad Italos deduxisse modos. sume superbiam quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.
XXX Exegi monumentum aere perennius regalique situ pyramidum altius, quod non imber edax, non Aquilo impotens possit diruere aut innumerabilis annorum series et fuga temporum. non omnis moriar, multaque pars mei vitabit Libitinam: usque ego postera crescam laude recens, dum Capitolium scandet cum tacita virgine pontifex. dicar, qua violens obstrepit Aufidus et qua pauper aquae Daunus agrestium regnavit populorum, ex humili potens princeps Aeolium carmen ad Italos deduxisse modos. sume superbiam quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.
30 I have raised a monument outlasting bronze higher than the royal structure of pyramids an edifice that gnawing rain or heedless north wind cannot level, nor the interminable series of years that flit by in centuries. Not all of me is for death, part of me shall slip the grasp of the Goddess of corpses, for while the High Priest climbs the Capitol steps in silence with the vestals my name will wax, the ever green praise following on. Where the torrent of Aufidus dins, and where past-times Daunus ruled his rustic folk in a land poor in water, I shall be spoken of, as one of humble stock who rose and drew out Greek metres to fit Italian songs. Take pride Melpomene, as you deserve, and willingly garland my hair with the Delphic laurel.
30 I have raised a monument outlasting bronze higher than the royal structure of pyramids an edifice that gnawing rain or heedless north wind cannot level, nor the interminable series of years that flit by in centuries. Not all of me is for death, part of me shall slip the grasp of the Goddess of corpses, for while the High Priest climbs the Capitol steps in silence with the vestals my name will wax, the ever green praise following on. Where the torrent of Aufidus dins, and where past-times Daunus ruled his rustic folk in a land poor in water, I shall be spoken of, as one of humble stock who rose and drew out Greek metres to fit Italian songs. Take pride Melpomene, as you deserve, and willingly garland my hair with the Delphic laurel.
Odes of Horace – Book Three
the drouth
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