Poem Hunter
Poems
Horace, Seventh Epode
(13 June 1831 – 5 November 1879 / Edinburgh, Scotland)

Horace, Seventh Epode

Whither, whither, reckless Romans,
Are you rushing, sword in hand?
Has not yet the blood of brothers,
Fully stained the sea and land?

Not that raging conflagration
Should o’er fallen Carthage play;
Not that the unconquered Briton
Should descend the sacred way.

"Rome," exclaims the joyful Parthian,
"Ruin for herself prepares;
Wolves with wolves are never savage,
Lion lion never tears."

Is this fury? is it madness?
Speedy answer I demand;
Foolish, blinded, guilty Romans,
Silent, stupefied you stand. [590]

Thus ’tis fated, blood of brothers
Must atone for brothers’ guilt,
Since the blood of injured Remus
Romulus in anger spilt.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 37 votes ) 5

Comments (5)

' is this fury? Is it madness? Speedy answer I demand' A fascinating piece of poetry deserving of POD
' Is this fury? Is it madness? Speedy answer I demand' A fascinating poem deserving of POD
Well written, I see you know history...Good for you.
I like the way you use metaphor in your poem. Keep it
Sword in hand! ! Ready to kill. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.