The Odes of Horace

by Horatius, David Ferry (Translator)

The poet-translator whose acclaimed version of Gilgamesh was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award presents an elegant, accurate translation of the complete odes of the immortal Latin poet of the Roman Empire.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, Literature, Fiction, Ancient History, Ancient, Roman

343 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 24

About the author

Odes and Satires Roman lyric poet Quintus Horatius Flaccus exerted a major influence on English poetry.

(December 8, 65 BC – November 27, 8 BC)

Horace, the son of a freed slave, who owned a small farm, later moved to Rome to work as a coactor, a middleman between buyers and sellers at auctions, receiving 1% of the purchase price for his services. The father ably spent considerable money on education of his son, accompanied him first to Rome for his primary education, and then sent him to Athens to study Greek and philosophy.

After the assassination of Julius Caesar, Horace joined the army, serving under the generalship of Brutus. He fought as a staff officer (tribunus militum) in the battle of Philippi. Alluding to famous literary models, he later claimed to throw away his shield and to flee for his salvation. When people declared an amnesty for those who fought against the victorious Octavian Augustus, Horace returned to Italy, only to find his estate confiscated and his father likely then dead. Horace claims that circumstances reduced him to poverty.

Nevertheless, he meaningfully gained a profitable lifetime appointment as a scriba quaestorius, an official of the Treasury; this appointment allowed him to practice his poetic art.

Horace was a member of a literary circle that included Virgil and Lucius Varius Rufus, who introduced him to Maecenas, friend and confidant of Augustus. Maecenas became his patron and close friend and presented Horace with an estate near Tibur in the Sabine Hills (contemporary Tivoli). A few months after the death of Maecenas, Horace died in Rome. Upon his death bed, Horace with no heirs relinquished his farm to Augustus, his friend and the emperor, for imperial needs, and it stands today as a spot of pilgrimage for his admirers.

Reviews

[Roy Lotz · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Just as Aristotle defined light operationally as that which passes through transparent objects, so may one define poetry as that which does not pass through translation.”—I had this thought some time ago, and was both pleased and disappointed to find that, not only had it been thought of already, but it was virtually a cliché. Well, cliché or no, it appears to be true. (Gregson Davis, in the introduction, argues that it is only half-true, considering how many poets have seen success in translation; but I’ll leave these conundrums to brighter minds.)

Having now, in these past weeks, read both Virgil’s Georgics and Eclogues, as well as this volume by Virgil’s contemporary and friend, Horace, I think I need to either learn Latin or transition to English poetry. It has not been a very satisfying experience. Granted: James Michie did a fine job, and there are many pretty lines in this work:

Call him happy
And lord of his own soul who every evening
Can say, “Today I have lived.
Tomorrow Jove may blot the sky with cloud

Or fill it with pure sunshine, yet he cannot
Devalue what has once been held as precious,
Or tarnish or melt back
The gold the visiting hour has left behind."

Nevertheless, I could hardly get a sense of that Horatian genius I’d so often heard about, just as I couldn’t detect the elegance of Virgil’s language.

Epic poetry perhaps survives translation most intact, since it is as much poetry as tale. But lyric poetry, which is all sentiment and slickness, becomes attenuated and awkward when sung in a foreign tongue. Oh well.

[Ana · Rating 4 out of 5]

No wonder politicians love Horace, there's a lot of politics in his poetry. But there's also love, philosophy and ethics. So read this slowly, otherwise the lofty style will seem too self-satisfying and you'll miss the graceful honesty and dry wit.

My one complaint is that Horace gets a little too preachy at times.

[Justin Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

Just to be clear, I give Horace all the stars in the internet. I give David Ferry two of them.

Horace's poems are masterpieces of concision, obliquity, delay, and obfuscation. David Ferry's version of Horace is, well, prolix, acute, direct, and transparent. In his introduction he more or less says that his unit of translation is the poem as a whole, which is a perfectly defenseable position. Literal translations are terrible, translations of poems should really themselves be poems. The problem here is that Ferry and I disagree so strongly on what a poem should actually be. His ideal seems to be something that is very slightly metrical, but mostly conversational in tone.

I read his translations of Virgil's Eclogues many years ago and liked it okay, and I suspect his style is much better suited to long poems of that kind: what matters in them is what is being said as much as how it is written. But for Horace's odes, what is being said is almost entirely banal, and it is being said in an extraordinary, beautiful, fascinating way. Ferry loses all of that.

Is there a good, modernist translation of Horace out there, akin to Fagles' Oresteia? I hope to read one before I die.

[Jonathan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Probably my favourite translations of these wonderful texts.

[Dirk · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I review this book what am I reviewing? People have been writing about Horace and praising him out of measure for 2000 years plus. He is a template of what it means to be a poet. I have nothing more to add. A lot of good poets contributed to make this edition and the editor McClatchy is to be praised for assembling it and guiding it through publication. Any translation is an act of recreation, and they vary in poetic merit and in faithfulness to the original. A lot of them are very good. In the case of well-known poets with marked styles like Pinsky and Bly, it is interesting to consider how they choose to make Horace their own, or made themselves Horatian. I was particularly struck by the translations by Rachel Hadas. The book is handsomely printed and includes the original on facing pages for those who can take pleasure in it.

[Darran Mclaughlin · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is amazing how these Odes can speak to a reader across two Millennia. His poetry has qualities that are local and culturally specific, but also qualities that are universal and accessible to readers centuries later. Horace wrote during one of the pinnacles of human civilization at the height of Augustan Rome, a friend of Virgil and contemporary to Ovid. He fought for Brutus in the civil war against Octavian, later to become Augustus Caesar. He venerated Greek culture and poetry and was influenced to live according to the philosophy of Epicurus. Coiner of the expression Carpe Diem he lived a relatively modest life on a farm given to him by a patron and wrote of the consolations of love, nature, wine and friendship, as well as the duties of citizenship. It helps to have a grounding in Greek and Roman mythology and some understanding of the works of Homer and the Trojan war to understand his references and get the most out of it, but there are many poems that don't require this and if you enjoy, for example, the odes of Keats you should be able to read and enjoy these.

I read the Modern Library edition, translated by James Michie. WH Auden said he does not expect a better translation to be possible. Some people feel Michie is too free in his translations, but I am pleased he took some liberties. Poetry usually suffers in translation, but these actually work as poetry. I would much rather read a translation that takes some liberties but works as poetry then a plodding, faithful, academic translation that eliminates what makes it worth reading.

[Illiterate · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lyric poetry loses more in translation than any other genre. Even in translation, these Odes are terrific.

[Sean Kingsley · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed quite a few of the odes specifically and feel cool for having read Horace now.
I learned a lot of cool phrases came from this book also (Carpe diem, pro patria mori…, etc.)

[Santiago Rojas F · Rating 5 out of 5]

¿A que viene atormentada el alma pensando en una eternidad que la supera?

[mafi]

raaaaaaaaaaaah (precisei para um trabalho)

[Graychin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is not a review of the James Michie translation but of an old Everyman Library edition I picked up at my local bookshop.

My senior year of college I made a pretty decent translation of the seventh poem from Book II of the Odes, the one beginning O saepe mecum tempus in ultimum. I have a copy of it somewhere. But that was more than twenty years ago and unfortunately I can’t really read Horace in the original anymore. However, I made my way through an old (1936) Everyman Library edition of the Odes and rediscovered some pleasant, familiar territory. A personal favorite is this translation of Quis multa gracilis (I,5) by E.C. Cox:

Slim, young and essenced, Pyrrha, who
On roses couched is courting you?
Whom charms in your sweet grot
The bright hair’s single knot,
The choice plain dress? How oft he’ll sigh
“False gods, false faith!” with tears, and eye,
Poor novice, seas that change
Storm-lashed to back and strange.

Who now enjoys you, thinks you gold,
Dreams you will love him, - still, still hold
No hand but his, nor knows,
Winds change. Alas! for those
Who trust your sheen. On temple wall
My votive tablet proves to all
That Neptune earned his fee –
These dripping clothes – from me.

[Monty Milne · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Latin text faces the English translation and at first I was a touch disappointed, because what I really wanted was Horace in all his glory with just a rather literal translation to jog my dim schoolboy Latin from the lumber room of memory. James Michie's translation is often rather free but it is also very beautiful and I soon became awed and enraptured by his skill and erudition. So it became a double treat to get absorbed in the glories of both texts. I sighed with pleasure on every page. No other Latin poet has become so embedded in western literary consciousness, and no other Latin poet provides such a wealth of apposite quotations for almost every situation that life throws up. The only pity is that I am too afraid of being thought pretentious to quote him at every turn...except occasionally, in congenial company, when I know it will be understood by way of ironic self-parody.

[Andrea · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wrote my senior thesis in college on Horace's odes, and I feel that this is a nice edition. The translations are (for the most part) thoughtful, if not always meticulous. The Latin on the facing pages is helpful for an intermediate to advanced student, as it does not contain any notes (or line markings--I had to put mine in myself). Many of the translations are beautiful, some of the best I've seen. Good for someone who would like to read Horace's poems in English. For a more thorough experience with the Latin, I would recommend Daniel Garrison's edition, which contains exhaustive notes.

[Jorė · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ve enjoyed poems of Horace more than i enjoy many of contemporary ones. he’s the guy who came up with carpe diem and this sense of not having the whole time in the world, nor control of the future is one of the main themes.
I don’t think this is the best translation, though. Been comparing different versions and this seems to be quite distant from the original, adapted to the comforts of an english reader. makes me suspicious how much of what i’ve read was actually Horace.
Anyway, this was a beautiful read

[Leopold Benedict · Rating 3 out of 5]

I still haven't found an approach to Horace despite the admiration that a lot of authors who I admire have for Horace. His poetry is filled with mythological and ancient references that I fail to grasp, even though I would consider myself reasonable well read on ancient matters and with a solid knowledge of Latin. Maybe I will return to him later in time with a greater understanding his poetry.

[Paul H. · Rating 2 out of 5]

This translation is . . . something else. If you wanted to know what Horace would sound like if his poems were translated into an email from your company's HR department, you've found the right book.

[Dan · Rating 4 out of 5]

In these translations I have tried, generally speaking, to be as faithful as I could be to Horace's poems. English of course is not Latin and I am most certainly not Horace.
David Ferry, "Introduction"

Dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero
from Ode i.11

Either Jupiter says
This coming winter is not
After all going to be
The last winter you have,
Or else Jupiter says
This winter that's coming soon,
Eating away the cliffs
Along the Tyrrhenian Sea,
Is going to be the final
Winter of all. Be mindful.
Take care of your household.
The time we have is short.
Cut short your hopes for longer.
Now as I say these words,
Time has already fled
Backwards away--
Leuconoe--
Hold on to the day.
from Ode i.11

David Ferry's translations of The Odes of Horace reveal the "commonplace" elements of Horace's poetry. Horace notes multiple times he's not inspired to spout battle epics or heroic laments--he prefers to recount "Songs about such battlefields as parties,/ Epic encounters between young men and women" (Ode i.6). Horace also generates a fair share of celebratory poetry for his patrons and civil leaders, a fair share of poetry extolling the virtue of simplicity and contentment rather than the practice of extravagance and greed, and a fair share of poetry about the simple, inescapable fact that, dammit, everyone everywhere is going to die sometime--so "carpe diem," people.

I recently read The Poems of Catullus and, obviously, Horace comes across a little more staid, a lot more conservative, in these odes. Ferry's translations, though, are serviceable. He provides some notes, but, unlike Peter Green's extensive notes on Catullus' verse, they are sparse. A few times Ferry admits he has "translated the last few lines more freely than usual." Trust him--when he says he "freely translated" something, it's not remotely what the actual Latin verse may be about. Granted, Horace can get esoteric, but I did not enjoy Ferry's "modernization" of the verse. Better to translate as close as possible and explain at length in the notes the issues involved in attaining a meaningful translation.

All in all, this is another anthology of ancient poetry I have enjoyed. I enjoy having the original Latin on one page and the translation on another. It's nice to examine the words and syntax Horace employs. The translation, for the most part, provides a window into the ancient Roman world that is rewarding in both its novelty as well as its similarity to our own.

Happy the man who has earned the right to say:
"I've lived my life. There may be storms tomorrow,

Maybe fair weather. Nobody knows for sure.
What I have had in the past cannot be taken
Away from me now. Fortune, who loves to play
Her cruel game and plays it over and over,

Can do what she likes with me or anyone else.
I'll praise her while she favors me, but when,
As she prepares to fly away, I hear
The rustling of her wings, I'll yield my luck

And wrap myself as in a garment in
My knowledge of who I am and what I've been,
And freely welcome honest Poverty,
Who has no gifts to give. Let the storm come on,

Let my little boat shudder and plunge in the turbulent sea..."
from Ode iii.29

[Matt · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed these poems. I've always wanted to be more conversant with ancient poetry and I actually know a guy who knows Ferry, so I took this crisply bound collection off the shelf one sparkling autumn afternoon and plugged in.

This was in the closing weeks of the Presidential election, so there was a lot of angst in the air and in my mind. This book was actually a bit of a refuge. Horace knew about political turmoil- he fought in the battle of Philippi in 42 BC, on Brutus' side in the Civil War. Horace showed rather badly, in fact- he famously lost his nerve, dropped his shield, and scurried away, something which he remarks upon with sarcastic good humor here and there. But he also knew about wanting decent government- he ended up serving as court poet under Augustus and lived quietly on the farm one of his patrons bestowed upon him.

Horace is the one responsible for the old saying "dulce et decorum est, pro patria mori" which translates to "sweet and fitting it is to die for one's country." Which is highly ironic, given his own record on the battlefield. I thought him a chump when I heard that, and when I realized the devastating dis from Wilfred Owen in his own harrowing WWI poem, correctly calling out that sentiment as "the old lie" and that this shmuck was the one who'd uttered it so grandly many years ago. I mean, Come ON.

Then again, who knows how you might react in the heat of battle? Lincoln was known for pardoning soldiers who skedaddled away from the battlefield, saying something to the effect that he couldn't blame a fellow for having cowardly legs. Good on him.

What helped put this into perspective was some essay I found about how Horace indeed sounds slightly ridiculous when makes such a pronouncement, but here's the kicker- he knows it, too! That little twist made up the difference in terms of how I thought about him personally. He is aware of his own bullshit, to a certain degree.

But regardless of all that, there was something almost soothing about spending the last couple of months dipping in and out of his Odes. I loved Ferry's clean, fresh, articulate, almost plainspoken translations. I diddled around for the entirety of my two years of Latin in High School, so it's not like I would have known any better, but I think I saw what Ferry was doing here and there and I liked very much these bracing, lucid, tightly sequential lines.

It helps if you know your Roman mythology and history just a little bit, and I don't really, but it's not a deal-breaker if you just want to read these poems for their own sake. Ferry provides less notes and introduction material than I wanted, which is really the only reason why I gave the edition 4 stars.

There's a reason why literally centuries of poets and literary folk have learned Horace's verses by heart, translated him, honored him, and emulated him. Ferry says in his introduction that part of the fun of reading these poems is in seeing how Horace tacks between different poetic forms, and observing how he manages the trick each time, like an Olympic diver. He can be seductive, wise, stoic, grand, reflective, humble, self-deprecating, self-inflating, reverent and irreverent as he wills. Boy got skill.

Horace's poems really shine when he's just commenting on the everyday events of life, the slow drain of time, making comments on the social foibles of people he knows, reflecting on the inevitability of death, celebrating the transient pleasures of life. There's a sense of balance in these poems, of taking it all in all, that is very refreshing given the fact that I am often a sucker for those humid, drunken, confessional types.

Horace knows the universe has it's own plans, which is to say probably none at all, as far as our puny human intents and purposes are concerned. The gods will do as they do. Therefore, quietus.

Let's just go seize the olives and the wine and lie back in the shade of the trees on the top of the hill, gaze out on the mountains, the sea, and all that hubbub which we call civilization as the hours pass and the sun fades. Pass the laurels, please.

To Lydia

Lydia, when you praise your Telephus,
"His beautiful rosy neck," "his beautiful arms,"
Your praise of Telephus throws me into confusion,
My mind is all unsettled, my heart swells up,

The tears in my eyes are the visible evidence
Of the fire that burns inside me and torments me.
I suffer this way whether I think the bruise
That mars your snow-white shoulder is the sign

Of a lover's quarrel brought on by too much wine
Or the mark on your lip the mark of his savage kiss.
If you listened to me you wouldn't give your trust
To one who would so barbarously treat

The lips that Venus imbued with essence of nectar.
Those lovers are happy and more than happy who
Are peacefully bound together in amity.
Love will not part such lovers until death parts them.

To Leuconoe

Don't be too eager to ask
What the gods have in mind for us,
What will become of you,
What will become of me,
What you can read in the cards,
Or spell out on the Ouija board.
It's better not to know.
Either Jupiter says
This coming winter is not
After all going to be
The last winter you have,
Or else Jupiter says
This winter that's coming soon,
Eating away the cliffs
Along the Tyrrhenian Sea,
Is going to be the final
Winter of all. Be mindful.
Take good care of your household.
The time we have is short.
Cut short your hopes for longer.
Now as I say these words,
Time has already fled
Backwards away-
Leuconoe-
Hold on to the day.

(The last phrase is 'Carpe Diem'- the old injunction, often found on screensavers and office memorabilia- turns out it's not quite the way you first heard it, eh?)

To His Slave

I dislike elaborate show, as, for example,
"Persian" garlands too intricately woven,
So don't go looking everywhere for somewhere
Where the last rose blooming anywhere might be.

Don't bother to look for anything less simple
Than simple myrtle, suitable to the scene:
The garlanded cupbearer waiting, and garlanded I,
Here in the shade of the arbor, drinking my wine.

To Postumus

How the years go by, alas how the years go by.
Behaving well can do nothing at all about it.
Wrinkles will come, old age will come, and death,
Indomitable. Nothing at all will work.

Offer in pledge three hundred oxen a day,
Unweeping Pluto will never be appeased.
Giants he holds in thrall down there for ever
On the other bank of that dark stream that all

Who eat and drink the good things of the earth
Must cross at last, whoever they may be,
Rich man or poor man, whatever, it doesn't matter.
In vain that you fear what's borne on the sick South Wind.

In vain that you survived the bloody field.
In vain that you made for port having ridden out
The terrible storm that time on the Adriatic.
It doesn't matter at all. However it happens,

Each one of us shall come to see the black
River Cocytos wandering through the region
Where Danaus' wicked daughters endlessly suffer
And Sisyphus for ever labors on.

Each one must lrave the earth he loves
And leave his home and leave his tender wife,
And leave the trees he planted and took good care of.
Only the cypress grows along those banks.

Your heir will drink the choice Caecuban wine
You did not know that you were saving for him
When you locked it up securely in your cellar.
The wine he spills is priceless, it doesn't matter.

[Monique]

David Ferry's translates Horace's Odes poem by poem rather than line by line. I liked the results. I turned to his English version after first trying another one that rhymed and mixed Horace's language with modern stock phrases to maintain the rhyme schemes, with the effect of trivializing the poems.

The translations are clear. I think clarity is a virtue in translations even when obscurity is a virtue of the original.

Parallel Latin texts are provided. You don't need to have wonderful Latin to notice that Ferry's translation strategy involves significant liberties.

Horace praises Caesar (Augustus) and stacks up references to Roman gods and myths. All of that can be quite beautiful but some of my favorites broke out of those modes, with a piercing, vivid particularity. Here is one:

iii.13 / To the Bandusian Fountain

O clearer than crystal, thou Bandusian fountain,
To whom it is fitting to bring libations of wine

And offerings also of flowers, tomorrow the chosen
First-born of the flock will be brought to you,

His new little horns foretelling warfare and love
In vain, for the warm blood of the child of the flock

Will stain with its color of red your clear cold waters.
The cruel heat of Canicula the Dog Star

Can find no way to penetrate the glade
To where you are. Gladly your shady coolness

Welcomes the oxen that come, wearying of plowing,
And welcomes also the wandering pasturing flock.

You shall become famous among the fountains
Because of my song that praises the ilex tree

That leans above the rocks the babbling waters leap from.

[Scipio Africanus · Rating 5 out of 5]

Passionate, Eloquent, and Manly. From politics to unrequited love. The epitome of Roman poetry. Cant reccomend it enough. A time capsule and window into another world full of war, love, and intrigue. Inspiration for Shakespeare and other great poets and writers.

[Dary · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nay, scarce the gods, or heavenly climes
Are safe from our audacious crimes:
We reach at Jove's imperial crown,
And pull the unwilling thunder down.

some of these translations are a bit unconvincing, but having the original text on the left makes this edition really great

[Duarte · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nos idos de março vou adoptar o feriado da árvore assassina.

[Judiejodia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Might have been able to appreciate it more if the latin was printed next to the translation. I could tell a lot of thought had gone into making the translations poetic and rhythmic, but this made them hard to follow without the latin for reference.

[emma]

1.5, 1.8, 1.11, and 2.20 were my favorites. Heather McHugh, I love you forever 🫶

[Martyna Antonina]

Skryta Nemezis wszystkich renesansowych wierszokletów.

[Dirk · Rating 4 out of 5]

I listened to an audiobook recording by Charlton Griffin of the translation by James Michie of Horace's Odes. What am I reviewing? Critics great and small have been talking about Horace for 2000 years. I have nothing to add. Michie's translations were much admired in the later 20th century. They are in strict meters, sometimes imitations of Horace's meters, and are mostly rhymed, often couplets. They are smooth and rounded; they give a feeling of trying to use equivalent verse tools in 20th century English to get the effects Horace so mastered. Sometimes it seems like a good idea and sometimes not. The reading by Griffin is articulate and has a flat, controlled emphasis. It's good at the nobility and stoicism of Horace; it's fails to project his subtlety and variety.

[Arthur Tassinari · Rating 4 out of 5]

A tradução do Pedro Braga Falcão (com suas estrofes de quinhentas palavras e diversas notas de rodapé) tem, aproximadamente, 0% de sonoridade. Mas, numa edição bilíngue, acaba sendo muito melhor uma tradução preocupada com fidelidade do que algum poeta talentoso construindo uma poesia levemente baseada na de Horácio.

Bom d+, leia poemas latinos.

[Andrew Phares · Rating 1 out of 5]

While I was reading the first few poems in the collection, I was a bit suspicious that the translation diverged from the original prose (there were quite a few cognates in Latin that were not represented in the translation). But Ferry's insertion of ''Ouija Board" in Ode I.11 as a modern day equivalent of "Babylonian calculations" (which according to the translation notes makes it more "viable") among other changes mentioned in the preface make this Ferry's summary, and not an accurate translation of Horace. Ferry goes so far as to claim his misrepresentation of the original meter is due to the "metrical laws and habits" of English vs Latin, which I can only assume means keeping to whatever style Ferry designates appropriate for his audience, and not Horace. Maybe next he will translate Shakespeare from archaic pentameter into something more digestible, ie "A day comes and then | Another day comes and another | Life is here today and gone tomorrow | Out, out brief phone battery". This book is worthwhile if you're looking to read David Ferry with only an echo of Horace paraphrased into formulaic fiction. Otherwise look elsewhere if you want a literal translation of Horace

[J · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the Introduction, Translator David Ferry says that his translation seeks to emulate Horace's "formal variety by working in a variety ... of metrical lines...) Ferry seems to take this a step further than admitted in the Introduction with several poems exhurberant with exclamations, very modern informal phrasing and word choice (imho). The "volatility of tone" in Horace comes shining through.

An example:

To the Republic - Horace

O ship, O battered ship, the backward running waves
Are taking you out to sea again! Oh what to do?
Oh don't you see? Oh make for port! The wind's gone wild!
Your sails are torn! Your mast is shaking! Your oars are gone!
Your onboard gods gone overboard! How long, how long
Can the eggshell hull so frail hold out? Oh ship so proud,
Your famous name, your gilded stern, your polished decks,
Your polished brass, so useless now, O storm's play thing,
O ship my care, beware, beware the Cyclades!

[Phillip · Rating 5 out of 5]

Of the various translations of Horace's Odes into English, this is the best I have found. The translations stay close to the literal meaning and sequence of the originals, yet are rendered into English poetry. Horace is a frequently complicated, dense poet, so the translations are often rather complicated and dense. A reasonable number of explanatory notes are provided in the back. With the learning of Latin under increasing threat, there is a greater risk than ever before of losing contact with the Latin roots of our cultural heritage. All adults who care about the literary education of their children, godchildren, etc., should invest in this book. At present-giving time it will be a standby for years to come.