So far, his seas are barely stirred
You are forever
fair to his fairweather mind, and golden
to his gullibility: no storms are forecast there,
and no distress. What blind and wretched men --
you've barely touched them, yet they find you gripping!
crowd the list -
Those two twins engineer
both war and peace,
Their constellation rises above the sea
And, in its beam, the troubled surges fall
Below the rocks, the threatening breakers cease.
Horace, The Odes
(a) I, 5
Heather McHugh, translation
(b) I, 12
Charles Tomlinson, translation
J.D. McClatchy, editor
Princeton University Press, 2002©
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