Living
Odes 3.18 (Gladstone): Faune, Nympharum
Translated by W. E. Gladstone (1894) · From Odes, Book III
The scampering Nymphs be free to scare;
But, Faunus, through my sunny grounds
Steal gently, and my fatlings spare
Upon thy rounds.
The season's kid thy grace bespeaks,
The bowl of wine is brimming well,
Love's mate: the antique altar reeks
With savoury smell.
Soon as December's Nones return,
The flock from grazing pass to play,
Both ox unyoked and village earn
Their holiday.
Wolves prowl, with fearless lambs around;
The leaf is falling from the oak;
The merry ditcher stamps the ground
With triple stroke.
Cite this poem
MLA
Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus). “Odes 3.18 (Gladstone): Faune, Nympharum.” Translated by W. E. Gladstone. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/horace/420/.
Chicago
Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus). “Odes 3.18 (Gladstone): Faune, Nympharum.” Translated by W. E. Gladstone. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/horace/420/.
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