This is the third in the “Truth in Wine” (veritas in vino) series, inspired by reading ancient lyric poetry. The Greek and Roman poets, from Archilochus to Horace, wrote of the empyrean pleasures of drinking wine. And though I do not drink wine, which makes me very sleepy, Horace’s wine in moderation becomes a metaphor for tranquility in daily life. His Epicurean odes encourage us to live in real time, rather than in our anxieties about the future.
If you worry, as I do, about politics, war, air pollution, the still-distant goal of equal pay for equal work, nuclear power, and the practice at staring at phones instead of the sky–in short, everything–Horace’s “Nature-and-wine cure” is the perfect remedy. In this charming ode (Carmina II.XI), he tells his friend, Hirpanus Quinctus, to stop worrying about enemy tribes (the Cantabrian and the Scythian) and drink wine and sit under a tree. So Happy Memorial Day weekend! Once you get past the first difficult stanza, you will love the ode. And you can read my other posts on truth in wine here and here. N.B. “Quenching the cups of burning wine” refers to mixing the wine with water.
Here is my translation:
Hirpanus Quinctus, stop worrying about what
the warlike Cantabrian or the Scythian are scheming:
the Adriatic sea separates the Scythian from Rome.
Don’t fret about the needs of life:
the demands are few. Smooth youth and grace
flee behind us when dry old
age drives away playful loves
and easy sleep.
The same charm of spring is not always
on the flowers, nor does the blushing moon
shine with one face. Why do you fret your
inconsequential mind with endless plans?
Why do we not loll carelessly
and drink under the tall plane or pine tree,
our white hair fragrant with roses,
and anointed with Syrian
balsam oil, while we may? Bacchus
drives away our gnawing cares. What boy will
more quickly quench the cups of burning Falernian
with flowing water?
Who will call the inconstant courtesan
Lyde from home? Bid her to come with
her ivory-decorated lyre, her disheveled hair bound
in a knot in the style of the Spartan.
You and I would make a fun pair out wine drinking: you’d fall asleep and I’d get very sad. Here’s to beer, which makes me happy! No classic verses about the joys of beer?
Where’s the fun Bacchus when we need him? I’m thinking there are medieval drinking songs.
Maybe if we go the world drunk, things would improve… 😉
If they sit under a tree!
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