intended to, or does, produce. Horace’s conciseness and apparent clarity phrase by phrase tempt us into believing that there is an equally concise and clear meaning to be assigned to a poem, or even to his thought as a whole. Yet Horace has no systematic philosophy to impart; his poems record only an imaginative apprehension of the world. Each ode is a calculated assault on our sensibilities, a deliberate invasion of our consciousness. Only by yielding to each in its entirety can we momentarily share Horace’s vision.

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