Volume 12 / Book 1 — THE NINTH ODE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.
Reading edition
I.
Behold yon mountain's hoary height, Made higher with new mounts of snow; Again behold the winter's weight Oppress the labouring woods below; And streams, with icy fetters bound, Benumbed and crampt to solid ground.
II.
With well-heaped logs dissolve the cold, And feed the genial hearth with fires; Produce the wine, that makes us bold, And sprightly wit and love inspires: For what hereafter shall betide, God, if 'tis worth his care, provide.
III.
Let him alone, with what he made, To toss and turn the world below; At his command the storms invade, The winds by his commission blow; Till with a nod he bids them cease, And then the calm returns, and all is peace.
IV.
To-morrow and her works defy, Lay hold upon the present hour, And snatch the pleasures passing by, To put them out of fortune's power: Nor love, nor love's delights, disdain; Whate'er thou get'st to-day, is gain.
V.
Secure those golden early joys, That youth unsoured with sorrow bears, Ere withering time the taste destroys, With sickness and unwieldy years. For active sports, for pleasing rest, } This is the time to be possest; } The best is but in season best. }
VI.
The appointed hour of promised bliss, The pleasing whisper in the dark, The half unwilling willing kiss, The laugh that guides thee to the mark; When the kind nymph would coyness feign, } And hides but to be found again; } These, these are joys the gods for youth ordain. }