Horace’s Ode on Cleopatra

Source: https://downunderpharaoh.patternbyetsy.com/listing/507220168/egyptian-art-cleopatra-dressed-as-the

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This is the beginning of several posts, possibly nonconsecutive, on Horace's Ode 1.37, the famous ode on Cleopatra. I begin with the Latin text and a literal translation. I don't read Latin myself, except for the simplest sentences, so I will be relying on others' translation and scholarship.

Ode 1.37 Nunc est bibendum
(https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Translation:Odes_(Horace)/Book_I/37)

Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede līberō
pulsanda tellūs, nunc Saliāribus
     ōrnāre pulvīnar deōrum
          tempus erat dapibus, sodālēs.

antehāc nefās dēprōmere Caecūbum
cellīs avītīs, dum Capitōliō
     rēgīna dēmentīs ruīnās
          fūnus et imperiō parābat

contāminātō cum grege turpium
morbō virōrum, quidlibet inpotēns
     spērāre fortūnāque dulcī
          ēbria; sed minuit furōrem

vix una sospes nāvis ab ignibus,
mentemque lymphātam Mareōticō
     redēgit in vērōs timōrēs
          Caesar, ab Italiā volantem

rēmīs adurgēns, accipiter velut
mollīs columbās aut leporem citus
     vēnātor in campīs nivālis
          Haemōniae, daret ut catēnīs

fātāle mōnstrum, quae generōsius
perīre quaerēns nec muliebriter
     expāvit ēnsem, nec latentīs
          classe citā reparāvit ōrās,

ausā et iacentem vīsere rēgiam
voltū serēnō, fortis et asperās
     tractāre serpentēs, ut ātrum
          corpore conbiberet venēnum,

dēlīberāta morte ferōcior:
saevīs Liburnīs scīlicet invidēns
     prīvāta dēdūcī superbō,
          nōn humilis mulier triumphō.
 
 
Literal English Translation (from https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Translation:Odes_(Horace)/Book_I/37, with revisions from the prose translation by Steele Commager, The Odes of Horace, 90)
 
Now it is time to drink; now with loose feet
it is time for beating the earth; now
it is time to decorate the gods' sacred couch
for Salian feasts, comrades.

Before this it was forbidden to draw forth
Caecuban wine from old stores, while the Queen--
still plotting mad ruin for the Capitolium
and planning the destruction of the state

with a foul herd of men shameful
with disease—was wild with all sorts of
hopes, and drunk with sweet
fortune. But it diminished her frenzy when

scarcely one ship escaped from the flames,
and Caesar reduced her mind,
inflamed with Mareotic wine,
to true fear, as he flew from Italy

with straining oars, as a hawk
pursues tender doves or a swift hunter
the hare on the plains of
snowy Haemonia, that he might put in chains

that monster of fate. Wanting
to die more nobly, she did not
like a woman tremble at the sword, nor repair
to hidden shores with her swift fleet,

but, having dared to see her fallen palace
with a tranquil face, she bravely
took to herself the harsh-scaled serpents
and drank in their black venom with her whole body,

in her chosen death growing fiercer.
Unwilling to be taken away by Liburnian warships,
no humble woman, she scorned to be led as a private citizen,
a captive in our triumph.

Updated with photo, 18 Oct 2023. Send comments to [email protected]