Ad Alpēs/Appendix

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Page 35
(Catullus, 61. 216-220)
A little Torquatus I fain would see
Dancing on his mother’s knee;
To father eager hands stretched out,
All smiles around his dimpling mouth!

Page 36
By Babylon’s streams we sat us down
And shed a bitter tear,
Thinking of Zion razed to earth
And exiles’ portion drear.
When lo, the victor, swollen with pride
In mockery cries aloud:
“Come sing, ye dolts, a lively strain
Of Zion and your God.”
“We mourning exiles sing to God
In this benighted land?
O Zion, be thy wrongs avenged,
As here we steadfast stand!”
Page 41
(Ovid, Met. xi. 538-542)
As many as the dashing waves,
Death’s terrors seem to sweep their souls;
One weeps, another stands amazed,
A third mourns loss of funeral doles.
Lo, yonder one to prayer hath turned,
With hands upraised to leaden sky;
In vain he calls for heaven’s aid,
No answering portent greets his cry.

Page 46
(Catullus, 31. 7-10)
O what more blest than care’s release,
When anxious mind throws off its load,
As worn and travel-stained we reach
The quiet of our own abode!

Page 85
(Horace, Epod. 2. 1-4 and 23-28)
How blest the man from business free,
Like to the sturdy sires of old,
Who plows content ancestral fields,
With ne’er a passing thought of gold!
How pleasant ’neath some ancient oak
Or on the thick-meshed sward to lie,
While plaintive wood-notes fill the air
And brimming brook glides softly by,
While purling waters lure to rest
As breezes through the treetops sigh!
Page 101
(Horace, Car. iii. 1. 17-21)
When o’er a guilty head there hangs
A naked sword suspended high,
In vain the sumptuous banquet’s spread,
No dulcet strain will close the eye.

Page 105
(Horace, Car. iii. 5. 18-22)
In Punic shrines mine eye hath seen
Standards and arms by cravens lost;
Mine eye hath seen on freemen’s backs
With shameful bonds the forearms crossed.

Page 128
(Horace, Car. iii. 2. 17-24)
True worth, that knoweth not defeat,
Shines on with fadeless glory blest,
Nor takes nor lays aside its crown
At the capricious crowd’s behest.
True worth, for the Immortal few
To heaven points out a shining way,
And mounting on aspiring wing,
Spurns sordid mob and sodden clay.

Page 136
(Horace, Car. i. 9. 1-4)
See how Soracte rears his head
With snowy crown of dazzling white,
While forests scarce sustain their load;
Congealed the very streams in flight!

Page 145
(Anon., in Suetonius, Nero 39. 2)
Aeneas’ blood our Nero claims;
We know it’s no mere fad.
The one his mother carried off,
The other took his dad!

Page 146
(Ovid, Met. xi. 623-625)
O Sleep, release from toil,
For careworn soul a balm divine:
Thy gentle ministrations soothe
The weary frame with touch benign.

Page 151
(Horace, Epod. 16. 47-52 and 61-62)
From riven oak the golden honey drips,
And down the steeps cool, babbling waters spring.
Unherded flocks at even homeward turn,
While willing kine their milky tribute bring.
There never ’round the sleeping fold at night
Is heard anear the bear’s alarming voice;
No serpents swarm in upland heath or glen;
There safe from bane and heat the flocks rejoice.

Page 173
(Trans. from the Greek by Cicero, Tusc. Disp. i. 101)
At Sparta, stranger, kindly tell
That here you saw us where we fell,
Obedient to the sacred laws
Of country that we loved so well.

Page 177
(Horace, Car. iv. 4. 69-72)
Never to Carthage again, alas,
A message of Joy Ill send.
Gone, gone, the glory of our name
Through Hasdrubal’s piteous end!

Page 223
(Horace, Car. iii. 11. 45-52)
Though father load me down with chains
For mercy shown to you;
Though to the earth’s remotest bounds
I’m sent with ruffian crew;
Go thou, be it by land or sea,
While night and love preside;
Go, blest by me, and on my tomb
A tender word inscribe.

Plautus, Men. 226 ff.
original (music on page 239.)
Vergil, Ec. 4. 21 ff.
Horace, Epod. 15. 1.
Ennius, in Cicero, Cato M. 10.
Horace, Car. iii. 3. 7 ff.
Cicero, in Quintilian, ix. 4. 41.
Vergil, Aen. vi. 126 ff.
Vergil, Aen. ii. 624 ff.
Vergil, Aen. iii. 56 ff.
Words and music by H. C. Nutting


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