Living
Odes 1.29: Icci, Beatis
Translated by John Conington (3rd ed., before 1869) · From Odes, Book I
Your heart on Arab wealth is set,
Good Iccius: you would try your steel
On Saba's kings, unconquer'd yet,
And make the Mede your fetters feel.
Come, tell me what barbarian fair
Will serve you now, her bridegroom slain?
What page from court with essenced hair
Will tender you the bowl you drain,
Well skill'd to bend the Serian bow
His father carried? Who shall say
That rivers may not uphill flow,
And Tiber's self return one day,
If you would change Panaetius' works,
That costly purchase, and the clan
Of Socrates, for shields and dirks,
Whom once we thought a saner man?
Cite this poem
MLA
Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus). “Odes 1.29: Icci, Beatis.” Translated by John Conington. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/horace/27/.
Chicago
Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus). “Odes 1.29: Icci, Beatis.” Translated by John Conington. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/horace/27/.
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