Horace, Ode 1.38

by Michael Gilleland

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Synopsis (by C.H. Moore): "Not orient display nor garlands rich please me, but simple myrtle crown and cup of wine beneath the arbor's shade."

  Text Crib
  Persicos odi, puer, apparatus;
displicent nexae philyra coronae;
mitte sectari rosa quo locorum
  sera moretur. 		Boy, I dislike Persian finery;
garlands sewn with bast displease me;
don't try to find out in what spot the
late-blooming rose lingers.
5
 
 
  		Simplici myrto nihil adlabores
sedulus curo; neque te ministrum
dedecet myrtus neque me sub arta
  uite bibentem. 		I don't want you busily embellishing
plain myrtle; myrtle isn't
unsuitable, either for you as you serve or
for me as I drink beneath the trellised vine.

Notes:

There is an excellent recording of a Latin recitation of Horace, Ode 1.38, by Vojin Nedeljkovic in MP3 format.

1 The Greeks and Romans thought that oriental peoples, including the Persians, were over-fond of luxury, and they condemned such tendencies among their own citizens.

2 The Latin word philyra (itself borrowed from Greek) means the linden tree (genus Tilia, with 30 species identified) or, by extension, the soft layer between the outer bark and the inner wood of that tree. This soft layer, which we call in English bast, was used to make matting and string. Garlands sewn with this string were called "coronae sutiles" (sewn garlands). In North America, the linden tree is often called basswood (a corruption from "bast").

On the World Wide Web there is an excellent collection of plant photographs, taken by Henriette Kress, arranged by scientific (Latin) name. Photographs of linden trees in that collection include some from London and Helsinki, but none from southern Europe.

3 In the Mediterranean climate roses usually bloom in the spring. At any other time of the year (late or early) they are a luxury.

5 The myrtle is a shrub, common in southern Europe, with evergreen leaves, fragrant white flowers, and aromatic berries. Horace mentions it as material for garlands elsewhere in the odes as well:

Here is a photograph of myrtle shrubs at Egmont Key State Park, Florida, taken by Coleen Frink. There are also photographs of myrtles on the World Wide Web in Gernot Katzer's very useful Spice Dictionary.

7 In a couple of other odes, Horace describes drinking wine in a shady bower, which must have been a congenial way for him to spend the time:

Note that, in these other odes, Horace recommends the very same roses and oriental perfumes which he rejects in ode 1.38! A poet is under no obligation to be consistent.

In English we have borrowed from Italian the word pergola, which The American College Dictionary defines as "an arbor formed of horizontal trelliswork supported on columns or posts, over which vines or other plants are trained," a perfect place in which to sip wine and read Horace. Drinking in the shade on a hot day is also described with evident gusto in the following passages by Greek authors:

Survival:

Anonymous

The following translation was published in The Poems of Horace ... Rendred in English Verse by Several Persons (London, 1666), pp. 49-50: 
Servant, all Persian pomp disdain,
From Teyl-rinde pleated Crowns refrain:
Cease further scrutiny where grows
     The tardy rose;

For nothing but plain Myrtles care,
They most beseeming Servants are:
And for my self too, tipling laid
     In Vine-tree shade.

Christopher Smart

English poet Christopher Smart (1722-1771) translated Horace's ode as follows: 
Persian pomps, boy, ever I renounce them:
Scoff o' the plaited coronet's refulgence;
Seek not in fruitless vigilance the rose-tree's
  Tardier offspring.

Mere honest myrtle that alone is order'd,
Me the mere myrtle decorates, as also
Thee the prompt waiter to a jolly toper
  Hous'd in an arbour.

William Cowper

The English poet William Cowper (1731-1800) made two translations of Horace's ode. Here is the first: 
Boy, I hate their empty shows,
  Persian garlands I detest,
Bring me not the late-bown rose,
  Lingering after all the rest.

Plainer myrtle pleases me,
  Thus outstreched beneath my vine;
Myrtle more becoming thee,
  Waiting with thy master's wine.
And here is the second: 
Boy! I detest all Persian fopperies,
Fillet-bound garlands are to me disgusting,
Task not thyself with any search, I charge thee,
    Where latest roses linger.

Bring me alone (for thou wilt find that readily)
Plain myrtle. Myrtle neither will disparage
Thee occupied to serve me, or me drinking
    Beneath my vine's cool shelter.

Hartley Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge's son, Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849), was a poet in his own right. Here is his version of Horace's ode: 
Nay, nay, my boy -- 'tis not for me,
This studious pomp of eastern luxury;
Give me no various garlands -- fine
                 With linden twine,
Nor seek, where latest lingering blows
                 The solitary rose.
Earnest I beg -- add not, with toilsome pain,
One far-sought blossom to the myrtle plain,
For sure, the fragrant myrtle bough
                 Looks seemliest on thy brow;
Nor me mis-seems, while, underneath the vine,
Close interweaved, I quaff the rosy wine.

John Addington Symonds

Here is a translation of Horace's ode by John Addington Symonds (1807-1871), published in his Miscellanies (London: Macmillan, 1871), p. 414: 
Boy, I dislike this Persian frippery,
These linden-twisted chaplets please not me.
Pray take no pains to find for me where grows
    The latest lingering rose.

Twine not the myrtle spray with studious care,
Plain myrtle leaves we both may fitly wear, --
    Thou as my page, I, as I sip my wine
    Beneath my thick-leaved vine.

William Ewart Gladstone

British Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone (1809-1898) made the following translation of Horace's ode: 
Off with Persian gear, I hate it,
  Hate the wreaths with limebark bound.
Care not where the latest roses
  Linger on the ground:

Bring me myrtle, nought but myrtle!
  Myrtle, boy, will well combine
Thee attending, me carousing
  'Neath the trellised vine.

John Conington

John Conington (1825-1869) was the first Corpus Professor of Latin at Oxford University. Here is his translation of Horace's Ode 1.38. 
No Persian cumber, boy, for me;
  I hate your garlands linden-plaited;
Leave winter's rose where on the tree
  It hangs belated.
Wreath me plain myrtle; never think
  Plain myrtle either's wear unfitting,
Yours as you wait, mine as I drink
  In vine-bower sitting.

William Makepeace Thackeray

Here is a humorous adaptation of this ode by English novelist William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863): 
Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is,--
  I hate all your Frenchified fuss:
Your silly entrées and made dishes
  Were never intended for us.
No footman in lace and in ruffles
  Need dangle behind my arm-chair;
And never mind seeking for truffles,
  Although they be ever so rare.

But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
  I pr'ythee get ready at three:
Have it smoking, and tender, and juicy,
  And what better meat can there be?
And when it has feasted the master,
  'Twill amply suffice for the maid;
Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
  And tipple my ale in the shade.

Stephen Edward de Vere

Here is a translation of Horace's ode by Irish poet and philanthropist Stephen Edward de Vere (1812-1904): 
No pomp of Persian feasts for me;
No garland woven curiously
With linden bark! Nor seek where blows
The dying summer's lingering rose.

Bind round my brow, and round thine own,
My boy, the myrtle wreath alone,
And 'neath the overarching vine
Pour forth full cups of ruby wine.

Charles Stuart Calverley

English poet Charles Stuart Calverley (1831-1884) translated this ode in his Verses and Translations (1862): 
Persian grandeur I abhor;
Linden-wreathed crowns, avaunt:
Boy, I bid thee not explore
Woods which latest roses haunt:

Try on nought thy busy craft
Save plain myrtle; so arrayed
Thou shalt fetch, I drain, the draught
Fitliest 'neath the scant vine-shade.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Jesuit priest and poet Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) translated Horace's ode as follows: 
Ah child, no Persian -- perfect art!
Crowns composite and braided bast
They tease me. Never know the part
Where roses linger last.

Bring natural myrtle, and have done:
Myrtle will suit your place and mine:
And set the glasses from the sun
Beneath the tackled vine.

Eugene Field

Here is a humorous translation of Horace's ode by the American poet and journalist Eugene Field (1850-1895), from his collection Echoes from the Sabine Farm (NY: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1920): 
Boy, I detest the Persian pomp;   
  I hate those linden-bark devices;   
And as for roses, holy Moses!   
  They can't be got at living prices! 
Myrtle is good enough for us,-- 
  For you, as bearer of my flagon;   
For me, supine beneath this vine,   
  Doing my best to get a jag on!

William P. Trent

This translation of Horace, Ode 1.38, was published by William P. Trent in the The Sewanee Review 3.1 (November 1894) 125: 
I hate your Persian finery, boy,
Your linden-woven crowns annoy,
Cease searching for the spot where blows
  The lingering rose.

To simple myrtle nothing add;
The myrtle misbecomes, my lad,
Nor thee nor me, who drink my wine
  'Neath this thick vine.

Austin Dobson

English poet Austin Dobson (1840-1924) made two translations of Horace's ode, both in triolets. Here is the first: 
Davus, I detest
  Orient display;
Wreathes on linden drest,
Davus, I detest.
Let the late rose rest
  Where it fades away:--
Davus, I detest
  Orient display.

Naught but myrtle twine
  Therefore, Boy, for me,
Sitting 'neath the vine,--
Naught but myrtle twine;
Fitting to the wine,
  Not unfitting thee;
Naught but myrtle twine
  Therefore, Boy, for me.
And here is the second, which Dobson called a "pocket version": 
Davus, I detest
  Persian decoration;
Roses and the rest,
Davus, I detest.
Simple myrtle best
  Suits our modest station:--
Davus, I detest
  Persian decoration.

Charles Edmund Merrill, Jr.

Charles Edmund Merrill, Jr., cleverly turned Horace's ode into a spirited protest against the Temperance League: 
  
Boy, I detest these modern innovations,  
  The Voice crusade may alter some men’s habit,  
But, as for me, I ’ll stick to my old rations,  
        Ale and a rarebit.  
  
In vino vis. The pious dames of Ipswich, 
  Knowing its worth and fearing lest men waste it,  
Condemn its use in christening battle-ships which  
        Can’t even taste it.  
  
Old Cato Major (and, no doubt, his wife, too)  
  Found in Falernian, mixed with milder Massic, 
Courage which led him, at his time of life, to  
        Read the Greek classic.  
  
Yes, Cato drank, nor should we lightly damn a  
  Man who, at eighty and without coercion,  
Mastered Liddell and Scott, and Hadley’s grammar, 
        My pet aversion.  
  
Elihu’s ways, they say, are growing sinful;  
  Crimes that are nameless are committed daily.  
Oscar! my toby, and I ’ll sin a skinful,  
        So to bed gayly.

Some of the allusions in Merrill's version might require explanation:

G.M. and G.F. Whicher

G.M. and G.F. Whicher translated Horace's ode in their collection On the Tibur Road (1912): 
Hateful, Page, to me is the pomp of Persia:
Garlands even, plaited with bast, displease me;
Cease then seeking places wherein the roses
     Linger late-blooming.

Naught I will thou add to the simple myrtle,
Vainly toilsome; neither for thee, my servant,
Myrtles are unfitting, or me close-shaded,
     Quaffing the vine-juice.

William Sinclair Marris

William Sinclair Marris (1873-1945) was a governor of the United Provinces of British India. He was also a translator of Homer, Catullus, and the odes of Horace. Here is his translation of Ode 1.38: 
Boy, I detest this Persian gear;
  I loathe these wreathes of linden plait:
Forgo thy searching far and near
  For roses late.

I ask of thee no showy wreath;
  The simple myrtle serves to twine
Thee waiting and me drinking, 'neath
  The tangled vine.

Franklin P. Adams

American man of letters Franklin P. Adams (1881-1960) imitated Horace's ode in his collection of light verse Tobogganing on Parnassus (1911). 
Nix on the Persian pretence!
  Myrtle for Quintus H. Flaccus!
Wreaths of the linden tree, hence!
Nix on the Persian pretence!
Waiter, here's seventy cents--
  Come, let me celebrate Bacchus!
Nix on the Persian pretence!
  Myrtle for Quintus H. Flaccus.
Here is another version from Adams' In Other Words (1920), entitled "Simplicity." 
The Persian pomp and circumstance are things I do not like;
I shall not buy a motor-car while I possess a bike;
I will not buy a Panama to place upon my head,
A simple sennitt bonnet, boy, purchase for me instead.

For such a thatch will do for you as it has done for me --
An ordinary straw hat, for a dollar thirty-three.
Then to the coolest bar in town for some Milwaukee liquor,
Where I may watch the ball-game -- as it comes over the ticker.

Keith Preston

This adaptation of Horace's ode 1.38, by Latin professor and poet Keith Preston (1884–1927), was published under the title "Chicago Analogue," in the posthumous collection Pot Shots from Pegasus (New York: Friede Covici, 1929). 
I do not share the common craze
  For food with jazzy singers;
Boy, tell me not of cabarets,
  Where the late loophound lingers.

A glass of home brew cool and clear
  Wets down my home-cooked victuals;
So long as I can have my beer,
  I'll gladly miss the skittles.

Anonymous

Shorey and Laing, in their commentary on this ode, quote a humorous macaronic distich: 
Persicos odi, puer, apparatus,
Bring me a chop and a couple of potatoes.
I haven't been able to trace the source of this, and I don't know if there are more lines.