Well Aulus, if you state things like

>>> Ovid's primary mistake was that he let Horace be more of a suck-up to the Augustan PC scheme

You're sure to bring Gnaeus Cassius out of the woodwork 'cause that's his cue to appear from the stage wings to defend his man Horace. Or as Maecenas would say:

Horati Flacci Ut Mei Esto Memor

In those days Varius was into epic poetry, Pollio tragedy and history, Fundanius was into comedy, Virgil pastoral poetry and Horace satire and lyric poetry. He glorified Augustus as the incarnation of imperial policy and was busy fostering the beliefs that were needed in the creation of this new society, according to George Whicher.
He also knew which side his bread was buttered on, eh...

As for poor Ovid, he did something that really burned Augie's ass and there's a fine thesis proposal waiting for anyone who can figure out if it had to do with Julia or one of Augie's favorites.

Throughout the Middle Ages, Horace's works were not as well known, because unlike Virgil's Aeneid, the poems did not lend themselves through allegory to Christian interpretation.
Ovid, instead was the fav poet of medieval readers, interestingly.

And so a little Horace:
Odes II.1

Pollio! your page records the fate
Of Rome, her crimes, her wars, her feuds,
Their causes and vicissitudes,
Since brave Metellus ruled its state,
The sport of Fortune, the array
Of leaders banded to betray
And Roman armour crimsoned o'er
With yet unexpiated gore.
A high but perilous task! you tread
O'er fires with treacherous ashes spread.

Hark! As I read I seem to hear
The clarion bray; the trumpet's breath
with quivering thunder smites mine ear;
Me thinks I see the war-horse quail
Beyond yon war of flashing mail,
And warriors, wan with sudden fear,
Trembling at coming death;
And chiefs careering o'er the plain
With no ignoble battle-stain,**
And all that's best on earth subdues
Save Cato's iron fortitude.

Juno and gods who loved Afric shores,
Yielding reluctant, powerless then to save,
Have laid as victims at Jugurtha's grave
The offspring of his Roman conqueors.
What soil by Daunian carnage fed
Teems not with Latin tombs? What flood
Rolls not unhallowed waters, red
With fratricidal blood?
The Medes, the Parthians in their desert home
Exulting hear the crash of Rome

translated by Sir Stephen Edward De Vere



(ancient scroll ellipse actually determined to read: Shut up and go and change your armour! )