‘II.XVI Contentment’ by Horace (23 BC)
It’s peace the sailor asks of the gods, when he’s caught out on the open Aegean, when dark clouds have hidden the moon, and the constellations shine uncertainly: It’s peace for Thrace, so furious in battle, peace for the Parthians, adorned with quivers, and, Grosphus, it can’t be purchased with jewels, or purple or gold. No treasure, no consular attendants,…