Horace 2.12

Alex Stott

You do not want the soft rhythms of the lyre
to be considered with long wars of savage
Numantia nor the harsh Hannibal nor where
the Sicilian Sea is purple with Punic blood

Nor with the Savage Lipithae and Hylaeus
having been completely plastered and young men
of earth subdued by the hand of Hercules; the shining
house of aged Saturn

trembles under this danger; and you Maecenas,
you will speak better about the battles of Caesar
and the necks of threatening kings having been led along
the road of historical feet.

My muse wishes me to sing sweetly about
the mistress of Licymn and their brightly
shining eyes and her soul faithful for mutual
love

How becoming it is to carry your feet in a chorus
or to compete against in jest or to give the arms,
playing in their festive garment on the sacred day
of Diana where virgins are abound.

Would you wish to exchange the Achaem’s riches
or with fertile Mygdonia of Phrygia or Arabian home
with flowing bounty in exchange for one
Licymn curl.

… last stanza not translated.

Sam Hastings

You do not want the soft rhythm of the lyre
to be associated with the long wars of savage Numantia nor
Harsh Hanibal nor where the Sicilian Sea
is purple with punic blood,

Nor with the savage Lapithae and Hylaeus
having been completely shat-faced and The Youth of the earth
subdued at the hand of Hercules, under which danger
the shinning house

of aged Saturn trembled; And only you,
Maecenas, will speak better of the battles
of Caesar and the necks of threatening kings
having been led through the streets

My Muse wishes for me to sing sweet songs
Of my mistress Licymnia’s bright shinning
eyes and faith in heart
for mutual love,

How becoming it is to carry her feet
in song or to compete in humor or to give
her arms playing in festive robes on the day sacred
to celebrated Dianna with virgins.

Would you wish to exchange the wealth of Achaemenes
with fertile Mygdonia of Phrygia’s strength
or exchange an Arabian home with flowing beauty
for one Licymnian lock,

Does she turn her neck aside from your kisses
with passion or does she deny with playful cruelty?
perhaps you should seize that which she rejoices in and you beg for,
sometimes she waits for it to be taken.

Ellen Hernon

You would not wish to bear a long war with Numantia Nor harsh Hannibal nor the Sicilian Sea
Tainted with purple Punic blood
To fit the soft manner of the lire,
Nor the savage Lapithas and
Hylaeus with his excessive wine or the hand of Hercules
pacifying the sons of the earth, who caused the shining ancient house of Saturn;
you and your historical feet, Maecenas, speak of Caesar’s battles and of bitter kings being lead by their necks through the streets.
The Muse commands this, that I tell of your wife, Licymniae, of her sweet song, brightly gleaming eyes, and persistent soul and so true to loving souls,
Nothing dishonors her, not carrying a band, not throwing her arms in sport in her sacred festival garments of the day of swift Diana.
Not you would want to wish to exchange for all the riches that Achaemenes held, or the fertile Phrygia’s Mygdonian riches or Arabian full houses for a lock of Licymnia’s hair? For whether she turns aside her neck for your burning kisses or easily refuses to take them, she wants to steal them, rather than ask for them, and sometimes she takes them first.

Brent Thibodeau

you should not wish for the long wars of the savage Numantians nor of cruel Hannibal or the sea of Sicily, red with punic blood, to adjust to the peaceful sound of the lute,

nor the ferocious Lapithians and Hylaeus greatly pure and having been defeated by the Herculean fist ,where the households tremble with fear at tremendous danger

And you, honest maecenas, can better articulate the account of caesar’s battles, and threatening kings led by their necks through the streets.

the muse calls me to tell of the songs sung by my sweet licymnia, to talk about her brightly shining eyes and good heart, faithful in mutual love,

tell her to be unashamed dancing (in) the performance or striving for rank
or even lending her arms to bright maidens on the sacred day when (the temple of) Diana is often visited.

Then, would you support wealthy Achaemenes, or fertile Phyrgia’s Migdonian wealth, or Arabian households willing to exchange for just one of Licymnia’s curls to be satisfied,

when she bends her neck to burning kisses, or denies with quick cruelty any such demand, rather to rejoice when snatched away, now and then snatching them for herself?

Bud Martell

You should not wish the long wars of fierce Numantia, nor harsh Hannibal, and not the sea of Sicily purple with the blood of Carthage and fit to the gentle rhythm of the lyre, nor savage lapithas, and Hylaeus drunken with to much wine nor the sons of the earth subdued by youthful hercules’ hand, who threatened the ancient and shining house of Saturn;
You and your historical feet, Maecenas, speak of Caesar’s battles and of bitter kings who are lead by their necks through the streets.
The command of the Muse is this, that I tell your wife, Licymniae, of her sweet song, bright gleaming eyes, and persistent true and loving soul,
Nothing is dishonorable to her, not carrying a band, not throwing her arms in sport in her sacred festival garments of the day of swift Diana.
Nor would you want to wish to exchange for all the riches that Achaemenes held, or the fertile Phrygia’s Mygdonian riches or full Arabian houses for a lock of Licymnia’s hair? For whether she turns her neck aside for your burning kisses or refuses easily to take them, she wants to steal them, rather than ask for them, and sometimes she takes them first.