Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THALIARCHUS, by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THALIARCHUS, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: A spectral form soracte stands, snow-crowned
Last Line: The ring from finger half resisting wrung.
Alternate Author Name(s): Horace
Subject(s): Youth


A SPECTRAL form Soracte stands, snow-crowned,
His shrouded pines beneath their burden bending;
Not now, his rifts descending,
Leap the wild streams, in icy fetters bound.
Heap high the logs! Pour forth with lavish hand,
O Thaliarchus, draughts of long-stored wine,
Blood of the Sabine vine!
To-day be ours: the rest the gods command.
While storms lie quelled at their rebuke, no more
Shall the old ash her shattered foliage shed,
The cypress bow her head,
The bursting billow whiten on the shore.
Scan not the future: count as gain each day
That Fortune gives thee; and despise not, boy,
Or love, or dance, or joy
Of martial games, ere yet thy locks be gray.
Thine be the twilight now from faltering tongue;
The joyous laugh that self-betraying guides
To where the maiden hides;
The ring from finger half resisting wrung.




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