Upon my extravagant visit to the ever majestic Eternal City (Rome) last summer for

a tour that boosted my knowledge about my proposed research on Ars Poetica, I

happened to experience some odd situation. In case you havent heard, I
experienced some odd, I mean freaky situation.
Do you believe in ghosts? If you dont, well neither do I.
But what caught me off guard was my absurd conversation with one of the noblest
poet of the Augustan Age; the Ars Poetica writer himself, Quintus Horatius Flaccus.
I know youd be saying, Are you freaking mental? Hes already six feet under the
ground!
As if I dont know that truth. Hate to break it to you, but I totally had the chance to
talk to him in his ghostly form I guess?
I had a hard time recovering from that creepy yet wonderful conversation with him.
Maybe now youre probably wondering how on earth did I bumped into Horace, the
HORACE, for the fact that hes long gone, but trust me, that meeting was pretty
much unusual and insanely unbelievable
Flashback
Picture here, picture there. Note here, note there.
Ever since I landed on this almighty Eternal City, thats what Id been doing. It was
better than talking to my 6 co-tourists which I barely know except their names
which I occasionally forgot. Dont get me wrong. They were all nice including our
tour guide. It was just I dont know how to interact with them, given the fact that Im
a bit introvert. I tried to talk to them sometimes but it always turned out to be an
awkward conversation.
Our tour began with the most sacred places in Christendom as what Ethan had said,
our very own tour guide; the Vatican. We had seen such unique collections of artistic
and architectural masterpiece. The Vatican was really crowded when we arrived
thats why it took us a while to reach its center, a circular piazza that was bordered
by palaces and gardens. In the midst of the piazza stood the largest religious
building in the world, the St. Peters Basilica. I didnt quite savor the true beauty of
the angelic basilica. Every direction was jam-packed. When we were done exploring
the Basilica which was filled with tourists taking pictures, we exited and made our
way to The Colosseum. The Colosseum was more jaw-dropping than in pictures. It
left me awestruck. Its ruins could really tell you that this structure had experienced
a lot of struggling. Inside the building, I felt like I was in a gladiator fight, ready to be
eaten alive by a monstrous-sized lion.
When my group was done gawking and praising the ruins of Colosseum, we moved
forward to another place after another. I became the official photographer of the
tour.
Almost every minute, I heard them say, Hey, can you take some picture of us?

Uhhh Sure was my only reply.

After exploring some historical sight in the city of Rome, the tour went north. The
sun was about to set when my tour buddies and I reached the Sabine Hills, tours
last destination. It was about an hour drive to reach this place. At the top of the
hills, you could witness a great landscape. Around the edge of the hills was an
extraordinary richness of medieval building. The place was incredibly breath-taking
and less crowded unlike its main city. We travelled across various small villages such
as Farfa, where we saw great infrastructures like the Farfa Abby, who used to control
nearly all the nearby towns and villages. It was one of the most powerful Benedictine monasteries in
Europe and played a major role in the power struggles between the Papacy and the Holy Roman Empire,
opposing the power of the Papacy for centuries.

Sabine Hills was really my top priority in this tour for the reason that Horace once
dwelled here in his mansion granted by his wealthy patron and at the same time
friend, Maecenas, giving him comfort and a plenty time to write. I was truly
fascinated by the fact that Im now standing here.
At 7 pm, my pack set our camp in the midst of the woods atop the hill. The weather
was perfectly cold when we were assembling our tent while the others were
gathering twigs for the bonfire. We built 5 tents because we were only eight in the
group, and lucky me, I got no one else to share the tent with so I could work on my
research without requiring myself to respond to a conversation with any of them.
Everyone circled around the bonfire after we finished arranging the camp and
prepared for dinner. I sat beside Kirsten who was already digging in. I took my pasta
and pizza out of my bag and began to eat. If youre wondering how come we had
food? That was because each one of us already purchased our food earlier at the
towns market, so we just microwaved it in Ethans accessible microwave. I certainly
wondered how did he carried that throughout the tour.
After the meal, I excused myself and hurriedly went to my tent to jot down some
things that I discovered about Horace. By the way, inside my tent, laid my sleeping
bag, small table for my research paper, and of course, a lamp that would be my
guide in writing stuff. I didnt bring a lot of things with me unlike the others who
brought their whole house and put it all inside their bag.
Okay guys! Its already 10 oclock and that means lets take a rest everybody!
Have a sweet dreams! Dont let the monsters of the woods kill you! Roaaaaar!
Goodnight! I think that was Ethan.
Monsters huh? In this kind of place? No way.
I heard the laughter outside. Ethans really a good tour guide. He could pass as a
clown rather than a tour guide with all his almighty jokes.
I snatched my pad inside my bag and started scribbling down what I had learned
about Horace today.

Quintus Horatius Flaccus, born on the 8th of December 65 BC, in Venusia, which can
be found in the southern part of Italy. Horace did not spare any information about
his mother nor other relative, except for his father.
Secretive Horace
In Rome, Horace studied at Grammaticus Orbilius under Lucius Orbilius Pupillus and
described him as plagosus (flogger). To continue his study, he fled to Athens and
entered the Academy founded by Plato. I also found out that during his stay in the
Academy, the Epicureans and Stoics were handling the school, meaning they made
a massive impact on Horaces point of view.
In 44 B.C., after the assassination of Julius Caesar, which was discussed at the
Forum earlier, Brutus who killed Caesar arrived in Athens to raise an army which
would fight against Julius Caesars allies. The people of Athens, which is the
birthplace of democracy welcomed him because they felt that Brutus had killed a
tyrant to preserve a republic. Many of the young Roman students, including Horace,
were attached to his cause. Horace committed himself to Brutus and was appointed
as a military tribune, a rank usually given to sons of senators.
Long live Horace for your bravery and courage!
At the Battle of Philippi during 42 BC, Horace claimed that he fled from the battle,
leaving his shield behind.
I take back what I have said earlier. Coward Horace
While Im eventfully taking down notes, I heard my tent went unzipped. I thought it
was just my mind messing with me.
Goodnight busy bee
I gasped when I felt someones whispering in my ear. When I looked back, I saw
Marcie giggling at the corner, holding her tummy.
What the heck?! I felt my cheeks reddened.
What? I just came here to say good HAHAHA and she bursted out laughing.
Did they teach you how to knock? Geez Im busy here, cant you see? I said as
Im drinking my milk to lessen my shock, and pointing at my little workplace.
Sorry, okay? When I sneaked here, I saw you were jotting down things. Thats why I
didnt bother to disturb you and your pen. Sorry. SOR-RY. HAHAHA,
Ugh Fine. Goodnight to you too. Is that okay? Cause I should at least finish half
of my paper tonight. I replied as I pushed her to the door.
Okay, okay! No need to push me. Again, goodnight. Im really sorry I startled you.
She playfully curtsied infront of me and made her way back to her tent.
Startling someone at night is a big no no, Marcie. A big NO NO,
I zipped back my tent and continued writing.

So back to business In the Battle of Actium, Octavian had resounding victory. He

became the sole ruler of the Roman world and was given the title Augustus and
revered as a god.
Horace, being one of the people who opposed Octavian was very fortunate. He was
granted a pardon for opposing Octavian. Given this opportunity, Horace returned to
Rome.
Youre definitely lucky, Horace
Upon his comeback, he found out that his father died and their properties were
confiscated. This situation made him suffer from poverty. Later on, he was
appointed as a scriba quaestorius, an official of the Treasury. Entering the Treasury
allowed him to practice his poetry.
So this started it all huh
*Whoosh!*
What was that?
I paused for a moment to listen to the sound when it suddenly stopped.
It must be the wind. Continue working Ange I said to myself.
Just when I was about to continue writing, the rustling sound came again. This time,
I could really felt the cold tingling through my body even though my tent was
properly closed.
Really now? What was that?
It seemed odd because the weather was perfectly fine tonight. It was cold I know,
but not windy.
The first thing that crossed my mind was Marcie. She must be the culprit. She must
be doing this kind of trick again.
Youve got to be kidding me, Marcie! I angrily whispered as Im making my way
outside, together with my mini-flashlight.
Nothing. I saw nothing except for the dying bonfire. Everyones tent was peacefully
quiet and their lights were off when I reached outside. So not Marcie I guess?
For the second time around, I checked my surrounding. The icy wind appeared to be
gone. Was I hallucinating? Maybe I should take some rest. I turned my back to the
bonfire and marched soundlessly toward my tent.
Dulce et utile
I stood frozen. I felt numb.
A voice of a man.
Did I really hear a voice?

I was afraid to look at the bonfire; the place where the sound came from. I decided
to take a long step forward to reach my tent when the voice spoke again.
Did you hear what I just said? Or should I repeat it young lady?
This time, the speaker seemed irritated. I got Goosebumps now and Im ready to jolt
I thought.
Is he talking to me?
I jolted towards my tent and quickly wrapped myself in my sleeping bag.
Sweat trickled all over me.
I got misty eyes now. Fear crept inside of me
Dulce et utile Dulce et utile
Did I really hear a voice? Or am I really hallucinating?
Dulce et utile Dulce et utile
But the phrase was so familiar to me.
Oh my gosh!
And then, it hit me.
My fear stayed but curiosity also arouse within me.
Theres no way Its not possible
I gathered all my strength and slowly untangled myself from my comforter. I
nervously rose and reached the entrance of the tent. While unzipping the tent, I
cant help but to quiver. Once I was done unzipping, I peeked through the bonfire.
My senses became agitated. I tried to blink again and again but nothing has
changed.
The bonfire that was dying earlier was now burning bright.
Sitting in a log right beside the bonfire was a man about my dads age, dressed in a
golden robe with a laurel wreath in his soon to be bald hair, and was writing in a
scroll with his pen I thought. His appearance seemed to be glittering.
H-Horace?
Im definitely sure that THE HORACE was right infront of me looking quite busy.
The tricky thing was, I once again felt the icy breeze coming from his direction.
So that was it.
I tried to pick up all the pieces ever since I walked out from my tent earlier. My mind
seemed to be corrupted by now. You see, how could he be sitting there, looking so
calm, while I was trembling here, knowing the fact that he was long gone.

Dont gawk at me like that, young lady. If you have business with me, come here
cause I dont have plenty of time to talk to you. He said while still writing.
My mind and body were confused.
Dont go near that freaking dead! my mind shouted
Theres no harm in trying. He died already so that means hes a ghost. No harm will
be done my body said, as it made its way to the bonfire.
Nooooooo! replied my mind.
I reached the bonfire, ready to faint anytime.
Lets make it fast here, shall we? Whats your agenda? How may I help you? he
stopped scribbling down and looked straight through me.
A what? I didnt know what he was saying. Agenda?
Listen, milady. You called me for no reason? For no reason! I came all the way from
Elysium just to be here! Dont you know how much it caused me? I have tons of
work to do. Goodness Ceasar! This is the reason why I hate public life! I should
ha----
Excuse me sir, I didnt call you Youre scolding me because I called you? Youve
got to be kidding me sir. Youre freaking dead and I called you?! That would be
insane! I didnt call you, so stop blabbering non sense stuff! I nearly lost my breath.
I forgot that we were in the midst of the camp. Anytime now, someones going to be
here and scold me.
No one came. I thought that I must be dreaming.
So, you didnt call me? Hmmm Lets see. So, what is the meaning of this?! he
got a folded paper that seemed ages from his robe and pinned it to my forehead.
I took the paper but it had nothing on it. I was about to crumple it and throw it at his
face when a golden light filled the paper. And voila! The paper was now glowing and
it had a letter on it. I read it aloud.
Dear Almighty Horace, if you could just spare me a moment to talk to you, Id be
grateful. It will lessen the burden of doing my research about you and your Ars
Poetica. So if youre not busy, you are truly free to visit me and help me with my
paper works. Yours truly, Angeline
I froze. How on earth did he get this?! This letter was pinned at my board back in
my bedroom. I wrote this a month ago!
H-hey! Where did you get this?! I wrote this when I was desperately looking for
some infos about you! I didnt mean to send this to you! I wrote this for for fun!
So my letter did reach him huh?
Oh great! You fool! I shouldnt be here! If you excuse me, little inconsiderate lady! I
gotta leave now if youre just playing around!

His body radiated golden aura which made him hard to look at.
Farewell, lady. I have no more business with you.
His appearance unhurriedly blurred out.
What have you done?! This is your only chance! Primary source is the best! Think
Angeline, think!
W-wait! Wait! I have questions for you!
Smoke suddenly appeared and covered his body. Anytime now, hell be extinct.
Please great Horace! I need you right now! Im sorry for my rudeness. I didnt mean
it. I really need your help. I cant finish my work without you. I pleaded.
And hes gone. No more help. Thanks to my foolishness.
At first, I was covered with fear. Then it turned to curiosity. Anger soon concealed
my curiosity. But on the latter part, I was here, grieving for a help that I lost.
I was hopeless. With my head bowed down, I sluggishly headed for my tent.
Even though it was really strange talking to a deceased person, I still longed for his
aid. But stupid me, I let go of such offer.
If you insist. Then shall I help you or not?
My eyes widened. I turned toward my back and saw what I mourned for.
Horace! I ran to his direction with my arms wide open. When I embraced him, I
embraced myself instead. My hand passed through his body. He gave me a whatare-you-doing look.
Uhhmm Sorry. I forgot that youre just a ghost I said as I moved back a little bit.
So tell me. Whats your problem? If this is another prank of yours, Ill be not sorry
and return to my peaceful afterlife in Elysium. He blurted out.
You see as what I have said earlier, Im making a research paper about you,
especially about your Ars Poetica and uh I need your help. Really really need
your help.
What do you want to know about my epistle to the poor Pisos? he uttered.
I sat at the log where Horace formerly seated. A golden chair and a table suddenly
materialized right in front of him. He then sat in the chair and snapped his finger. A
dozen of scrolls, a golden ink, and a pen popped out of nowhere.
Theres a verse in AP that says You who write choose a subject thats matched
your powers, consider deeply what your shoulders can and cannot bear Can you
tell me what does that mean?
The writers materials are not pregiven but must be selected according to his
capacity. In writing, you must base your topic or subject to your ability, and test

again and again what weight your shoulders will take and what they wont take.
Writing beyond your limit might cause you some trouble. he replied. Horace got a
scroll and started writing on it.
Ah! Thats it! So an individual should write according to his power. Okay. Thanks.
Ah. Can you lend me a pen and some of your scroll? I didnt bring my pad with me.
I asked.
Here Are we done yet? he handed me a scroll and a pen which was weird cause
I thought that I cant hold it. Analyzing this line seemed easier with him explaining
it.
He kept on writing in his golden desk. I felt like I was talking with myself, but
everytime I finished talking, he quickly reply without looking right at me.
No, no, no. Im not done interrogating you
What are you waiting for? Common fella! Throw your questions quickly so we could
end this already! he sounded agitated.
Easy! Easy! Okay I somehow got confused with this. So what is decorum? he
stared at me blankly.
Are you really studying my works? How could you not know what decorum really
means?! Oh goodness! he cried.
I just got confused with what Ive read! Of course I examined your works. I just
want to know these things coming from you.
So I received an insult from the person Im studying. Great.
DECORUM, which calls for a proper relationship between form and content,
expression and thought, style and subject matter, diction and character. Form
encompasses language itself, and I personally think that there is an intrinsic or
internal connection between form and content; in other words, the content cannot
somehow be prior to or independent of the form.
Horace tapped his left-hand fingers on his desk, still writing endlessly.
What about your advice to the elder son of Piso? I curiosly asked while jotting
down everything he said.
Ah! That man who wanted to become a poet. I told him to keep writing and writing,
dont try to avoid mistakes because itll lead to more mistakes. Even great poets like
me made mistakes, of course. I said to him that he should keep revising his. I said
let his work be judged by his fellowmen before he publish it. After ninth year, he can
burn all of his works that were not published. He ranted as if hes talking to the
Pisos and not to me.
Do you talk like this all the time?
Being frank is better than being kind all the time especially in criticizing works.
Dont drown a person with all your praise even though his/her work is not enough.

He/she will continue making that kind of work if you give him/her false hope dear.
Telling an individuals mistake will help him/her improve his writing.
Oohhh. That answers my question. I said in a sarcastic way.
Are we through now? he stood as he scrolled back the paper and put it beside the
other scrolls.
I was busy scribbling down notes when he said this.
I guess I got the information I needed. Grateful to you I can now finish my research.
THAN---
When I looked in front of me, he was gone. The golden chair and desk were also
gone. I scanned the bonfire area to look for him but I didnt find him.
Leaving without saying goodbye? Thats totally his attitude I guess.
Oh wait! I hurriedly went to the log and checked for the golden scroll and pen that
Horace gave to me.
Thanks to God, it stayed where I left it. When I unfolded the scroll, I saw something
that the upper left corner that was not my handwriting.
It said:
Youre really lucky that I helped you out. Anyway, I really appreciate your effort
from disturbing me.
P.S. Dont ever try to call me again. I will not be picking up.
From the great great poet of the Augustan Age,
Horace.
Way to go Horace
End of Flashback
And that was my encounter with the so-called Augustan poet, Horace. Thanks to
him, my research paper was successfully done.