I started work on my version of 1.34 today in Corpus library. In the original, Horace speaks both as a stoic and an epicurean, as an atheist and a polytheist. I love how in so few words, he makes us contemplate both sides of an argument at the same time. As a consequence he ends the ode with a view that's both practical and reflects daily doubts; daily life. He calls on his gods while he questions their existance, concluding that what happens is a result both of the gods' intervention and fate. He is, in my view, such a modern poet in his approach; asking questions, pushing buttons that make us just slightly uncomfortable.

Then, purely by accident in the SCR I heard about 'The Pelican', Corpus' magazine, so I've submitted a poem which I hope will be published in the next edition, (on Horace of course!) And finally, I found my way to the English Faculty. What a wonderfully serene and cool place this was on a hot afternoon. Probably not so serene during term time I guess - but this afternoon it was restful and I took the opportunity to acquaint myself with some of the work of Craig Raine(who incidentally comes from my part of the world), and to re-aquaint myself with some of the work of Bernard O'Donogue whose poems in 'Here nor There' I really love.

I still can't believe that I'm having this month just to read, write and think about poetry - what a rare treat this is for me. I owe so much to Professor Harrison and to everyone at Corpus for making me feel so very welcome and to Brian back home, who has only our little dog for company. I'm having a great experience here at Oxford, but I do miss him - and Brian!

And here, to prove I've done some work while I've been here, is my version of 1.34

Ode to an Agnostic Poet
(Ode 1.34)

Resentfully I pray
and then with just one eye shut;
for my other has become
the obsessed eye of the poet.

Yet I find myself doubling back
over faithful ground; A coach and horses
driven through logic that had, until now,
been serving me well. The courses

I've chosen have shaken me to the core
education has made me unstable,
knowledge floods my mind, leads me to hell;
I wilt from its weight, from its breadth, unable

to carry it now without God's help.
Only he has the power to make the first last
and the last first. With one ear-splitting 'no', chance
can snatch the ivy crown from the famous; place it
on the head of the unknown poet without even a sideways
glance.

Ode to Horace
(Ode 1.32)

I have withdrawn this from the site, pending publication in 'The Pelican'