Horace: To Chloë

YOU shun me, Chloë, wild and shy,
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother
Through trackless woods. If spring winds sigh
It vainly strives its fears to smother.

Its trembling knees assail each other
When lizards stir the brambles dry;—
You shun me, Chloë, wild and shy,
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother.

And yet no Libyan lion I,—
No ravening thing to rend another;
Lay by your tears, your tremors dry,
A husband’s better than a brother;
Nor shun me, Chloë, wild and shy,
As some stray fawn that seeks its mother.


Odes I 23. Translation by Austin Dobson (1840–1921).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: