1. Hesiod, Works And Days, 107-109, 11, 110-119, 12, 120-129, 13, 130-139, 14, 140-149, 15, 150-159, 16, 160-169, 17, 170-179, 18, 180-189, 19, 190-199, 20, 200-209, 21, 210-219, 22, 220-229, 23, 230-237, 24-29, 299, 30, 300-301, 31, 311, 32-46, 465-478, 50, 649-650, 106 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
| 106. (The lid already stopped her, by the will |
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2. Homer, Iliad, 21.257-21.262 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
| 21.257. /the bronze rang terribly, while he swerved from beneath the flood and fled ever onward, and the River followed after, flowing with a mighty roar. As when a man that guideth its flow leadeth from a dusky spring a stream of water amid his plants and garden-lots a mattock in his hands and cleareth away the dams from the channel— 21.258. /the bronze rang terribly, while he swerved from beneath the flood and fled ever onward, and the River followed after, flowing with a mighty roar. As when a man that guideth its flow leadeth from a dusky spring a stream of water amid his plants and garden-lots a mattock in his hands and cleareth away the dams from the channel— 21.259. /the bronze rang terribly, while he swerved from beneath the flood and fled ever onward, and the River followed after, flowing with a mighty roar. As when a man that guideth its flow leadeth from a dusky spring a stream of water amid his plants and garden-lots a mattock in his hands and cleareth away the dams from the channel— 21.260. /and as it floweth all the pebbles beneath are swept along therewith, and it glideth swiftly onward with murmuring sound down a sloping place and outstrippeth even him that guideth it;—even thus did the flood of the River 21.261. /and as it floweth all the pebbles beneath are swept along therewith, and it glideth swiftly onward with murmuring sound down a sloping place and outstrippeth even him that guideth it;—even thus did the flood of the River 21.262. /and as it floweth all the pebbles beneath are swept along therewith, and it glideth swiftly onward with murmuring sound down a sloping place and outstrippeth even him that guideth it;—even thus did the flood of the River |
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3. Aeschylus, Libation-Bearers, 1024 (6th cent. BCE - 5th cent. BCE)
1024. φρένες δύσαρκτοι· πρὸς δὲ καρδίᾳ φόβος | |
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4. Pindar, Pythian Odes, 10.65 (6th cent. BCE - 5th cent. BCE)
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5. Euripides, Medea, 5, 9-10 (5th cent. BCE - 5th cent. BCE)
| 10. to slay their father and come to live here in the land of Corinth with her husband and children, where her exile found favour with the citizens to whose land she had come, and in all things of her own accord was she at one with Jason, the greatest safeguard thi |
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6. Plato, Phaedrus, None (5th cent. BCE - 4th cent. BCE)
| 246a. that that which moves itself is nothing else than the soul,—then the soul would necessarily be ungenerated and immortal. Concerning the immortality of the soul this is enough; but about its form we must speak in the following manner. To tell what it really is would be a matter for utterly superhuman and long discourse, but it is within human power to describe it briefly in a figure; let us therefore speak in that way. We will liken the soul to the composite nature of a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. Now the horses and charioteers of the gods are all good and |
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7. Plato, Statesman, None (5th cent. BCE - 4th cent. BCE)
| 272b. That, Socrates, was the life of men in the reign of Cronus; but the life of the present age, which is said to be the age of Zeus, you know by your own experience. Would you be able and willing to decide which of them is the more blessed? Y. Soc. Certainly not. Str. Shall I, then, make some sort of a judgement for you? Y. Soc. Do so, by all means. Str. Well, then, if the foster children of Cronus, having all this leisure and the ability to converse not only with human beings but also with beasts |
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8. Aratus Solensis, Phaenomena, 131-132, 130 (4th cent. BCE - 3rd cent. BCE)
130. χαλκείη γενεή, προτέρων ὀλοώτεροι ἄνδρες | |
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9. Callimachus, Aetia, 1.25-1.28 (4th cent. BCE - 3rd cent. BCE)
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10. Apollonius of Rhodes, Argonautica, 1.19-1.20, 4.445 (3rd cent. BCE - 3rd cent. BCE)
1.19. Ἄργον Ἀθηναίης καμέειν ὑποθημοσύνῃσιν. 1.20. νῦν δʼ ἂν ἐγὼ γενεήν τε καὶ οὔνομα μυθησαίμην 4.445. σχέτλιʼ Ἔρως, μέγα πῆμα, μέγα στύγος ἀνθρώποισιν | |
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11. Cicero, On The Nature of The Gods, 2.87, 2.89, 2.161 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 2.87. Let someone therefore prove that it could have been better. But no one will ever prove this, and anyone who essays to improve some detail will either make it worse or will be demanding an improvement impossible in the nature of things. "But if the structure of the world in all its parts is such that it could not have been better whether in point of utility or beauty, let us consider js is the result of chance, or whether on the contrary the parts of the world are in such a condition that they could not possibly have cohered together if they were not controlled by intelligence and by divine providence. If then that produces of nature are better than those of art, and if art produces nothing without reason, nature too cannot be deemed to be without reason. When you see a statue or a painting, you recognize the exercise of art; when you observe from a distance the course of a ship, you do not hesitate to assume that its motion is guided by reason and by art; when you look at a sun‑dial or a water-clock, you infer that it tells the time by art and not by chance; how then can it be consistent to suppose that the world, which includes both the works of art in question, the craftsmen who made them, and everything else besides, can be devoid of purpose and of reason? 2.89. Just as the shield in Accius who had never seen a ship before, on descrying in the distance from his mountain‑top the strange vessel of the Argonauts, built by the gods, in his first amazement and alarm cries out: so huge a bulk Glides from the deep with the roar of a whistling wind: Waves roll before, and eddies surge and swirl; Hurtling headlong, it snort and sprays the foam. Now might one deem a bursting storm-cloud rolled, Now that a rock flew skyward, flung aloft By wind and storm, or whirling waterspout Rose from the clash of wave with warring wave; Save 'twere land-havoc wrought by ocean-flood, Or Triton's trident, heaving up the roots of cavernous vaults beneath the billowy sea, Hurled from the depth heaven-high a massy crag. At first he wonders what the unknown creature that he beholds may be. Then when he sees the warriors and hears the singing of the sailors, he goes on: the sportive dolphins swift Forge snorting through the foam — and so on and so on — Brings to my ears and hearing such a tune As old Silvanus piped. 2.161. The great beasts of the forest again we take by hunting, both for food and in order to exercise ourselves in the mimic warfare of the chase, and also, as in the case of elephants, to train and discipline them for our employment, and to procure from their busy a variety of medicines for diseases and wounds, as also we do from certain roots and herbs whose values we have learnt by long-continued use and trial. Let the mind's eye survey the whole earth and all the seas, and you will behold now fruitful plains of measureless extent and mountains thickly clad with forests and pastures filled with flocks, now vessels sailing with marvellous swiftness across the sea. |
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12. Cicero, On Duties, 1.11-1.13, 2.16-2.17, 2.69 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
1.11. Principio generi animantium omni est a natura tributum, ut se, vitam corpusque tueatur, declinet ea, quae nocitura videantur, omniaque, quae sint ad vivendum necessaria, anquirat et paret, ut pastum, ut latibula, ut alia generis eiusdem. Commune item animantium omnium est coniunctionis adpetitus procreandi causa et cura quaedam eorum, quae procreata sint; sed inter hominem et beluam hoc maxime interest, quod haec tantum, quantum sensu movetur, ad id solum, quod adest quodque praesens est, se accommodat paulum admodum sentiens praeteritum aut futurum; homo autem, quod rationis est particeps, per quam consequentia cernit, causas rerum videt earumque praegressus et quasi antecessiones non ignorat, similitudines comparat rebusque praesentibus adiungit atque annectit futuras, facile totius vitae cursum videt ad eamque degendam praeparat res necessarias. 1.12. Eademque natura vi rationis hominem conciliat homini et ad orationis et ad vitae societatem ingeneratque in primis praecipuum quendam amorem in eos, qui procreati sunt, impellitque, ut hominum coetus et celebrationes et esse et a se obiri velit ob easque causas studeat parare ea, quae suppeditent ad cultum et ad victum, nec sibi soli, sed coniugi, liberis ceterisque, quos caros habeat tuerique debeat; quae cura exsuscitat etiam animos et maiores ad rem gerendam facit. 1.13. In primisque hominis est propria veri inquisitio atque investigatio. Itaque cum sumus necessariis negotiis curisque vacui, tum avemus aliquid videre, audire, addiscere cognitionemque rerum aut occultarum aut admirabilium ad beate vivendum necessariam ducimus. Ex quo intellegitur, quod verum, simplex sincerumque sit, id esse naturae hominis aptissimum. Huic veri videndi cupiditati adiuncta est appetitio quaedam principatus, ut nemini parere animus bene informatus a natura velit nisi praecipienti aut docenti aut utilitatis causa iuste et legitime imperanti; ex quo magnitudo animi exsistit humanarumque rerum contemptio. 2.16. Longiores hoc loco sumus, quam necesse est. Quis est enim, cui non perspicua sint illa, quae pluribus verbis a Panaetio commemorantur, neminem neque ducem bello nec principem domi magnas res et salutares sine hominum studiis gerere potuisse? Commemoratur ab eo Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, Agesilaus, Alexander, quos negat sine adiumentis hominum tantas res efficere potuisse. Utitur in re non dubia testibus non necessariis. Atque ut magnas utilitates adipiscimur conspiratione hominum atque consensu, sic nulla tam detestabilis pestis est, quae non homini ab homine nascatur. Est Dicaearchi liber de interitu hominum, Peripatetici magni et copiosi, qui collectis ceteris causis eluvionis, pestilentiae, vastitatis, beluarum etiam repentinae multitudinis, quarum impetu docet quaedam hominum genera esse consumpta, deinde comparat, quanto plures deleti sint homines hominum impetu, id est bellis aut seditionibus, quam omni reliqua calamitate. 2.17. Cum igitur hie locus nihil habeat dubitationis, quin homines plurimum hominibus et prosint et obsint, proprium hoc statuo esse virtutis, conciliare animos hominum et ad usus suos adiungere. Itaque, quae in rebus iimis quaeque in usu et tractatione beluarum fiunt utiliter ad hominum vitam, artibus ea tribuuntur operosis, hominum autem studia ad amplificationem nostrarum rerum prompta ac parata virorum praestantium sapientia et virtute excitantur. 2.69. Sed cum in hominibus iuvandis aut mores spectari aut fortuna soleat, dictu quidem est proclive, itaque volgo loquuntur, se in beneficiis collocandis mores hominum, non fortunam sequi. Honesta oratio est; sed quis est tandem, qui inopis et optimi viri causae non anteponat in opera danda gratiam fortunati et potentis? a quo enim expeditior et celerior remuneratio fore videtur, in eum fere est voluntas nostra propensior. Sed animadvertendum est diligentius, quae natura rerum sit. Nimirum enim inops ille, si bonus est vir, etiamsi referre gratiam non potest, habere certe potest. Commode autem, quicumque dixit, pecuniam qui habeat, non reddidisse, qui reddiderit, non habere, gratiam autem et, qui rettulerit, habere et, qui habeat, rettulisse. At qui se locupletes, honoratos, beatos putant, ii ne obligari quidem beneficio volunt; quin etiam beneficium se dedisse arbitrantur, cum ipsi quamvis magnum aliquod acceperint, atque etiam a se aut postulari aut exspectari aliquid suspicantur, patrocinio vero se usos aut clientes appellari mortis instar putant. | 2.16. I have dwelt longer on this point than was necessary. For who is there to whom those facts which Panaetius narrates at great length are not self-evident â namely, that no one, either as a general in war or as a statesman at home, could have accomplished great things for the benefit of the state, without the hearty coâoperation of other men? He cites the deeds of Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, Agesilaus, Alexander, who, he says, could not have achieved so great success without the support of other men. He calls in witnesses, whom he does not need, to prove a fact that no one questions. And yet, as, on the one hand, we secure great advantages through the sympathetic cooperation of our fellow-men; so, on the other, there is no curse so terrible but it is brought down by man upon man. There is a book by Dicaearchus on "The Destruction of Human Life." He was a famous and eloquent Peripatetic, and he gathered together all the other causes of destruction â floods, epidemics, famines, and sudden incursions of wild animals in myriads, by whose assaults, he informs us, whole tribes of men have been wiped out. And then he proceeds to show by way of comparison how many more men have been destroyed by the assaults of men â that is, by wars or revolutions â than by any and all other sorts of calamity. 2.17. Since, therefore, there can be no doubt on this point, that man is the source of both the greatest help and the greatest harm to man, I set it down as the peculiar function of virtue to win the hearts of men and to attach them to one's own service. And so those benefits that human life derives from iimate objects and from the employment and use of animals are ascribed to the industrial arts; the cooperation of men, on the other hand, prompt and ready for the advancement of our interests, is secured through wisdom and virtue [in men of superior ability]. 2.69. Now in rendering helpful service to people, we usually consider either their character or their circumstances. And so it is an easy remark, and one commonly made, to say that in investing kindnesses we look not to people's outward circumstances, but to their character. The phrase is admirable! But who is there, pray, that does not in performing a service set the favour of a rich and influential man above the cause of a poor, though most worthy, person? For, as a rule, our will is more inclined to the one from whom we expect a prompter and speedier return. But we should observe more carefully how the matter really stands: the poor man of whom we spoke cannot return a favour in kind, of course, but if he is a good man he can do it at least in thankfulness of heart. As someone has happily said, "A man has not repaid money, if he still has it; if he has repaid it, he has ceased to have it. But a man still has the sense of favour, if he has returned the favour; and if he has the sense of the favour, he has repaid it." On the other hand, they who consider themselves wealthy, honoured, the favourites of fortune, do not wish even to be put under obligations by our kind services. Why, they actually think that they have conferred a favour by accepting one, however great; and they even suspect that a claim is thereby set up against them or that something is expected in return. Nay more, it is bitter as death to them to have accepted a patron or to be called clients. |
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13. Cicero, Republic, 3.1 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
3.1. Non. 301M Est igitur quiddam turbulentum in hominibus singulis, quod vel exultat voluptate vel molestia frangitur. | |
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14. Varro, On Agriculture, 1.18.7-1.18.8, 2.10.1 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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15. Catullus, Poems, 64.1-64.15, 64.384-64.408 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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16. Dionysius of Halycarnassus, Roman Antiquities, 1.36-1.37 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.36. 1. There is another legend related by the inhabitants, to the effect that before the reign of Jupiter Saturn was lord in this land and that the celebrated manner of life in his reign, abounding in the produce of every season, was enjoyed by none more than them.,2. And, indeed, if anyone, setting aside the fabulous part of this account, will examine the merit of any country from which mankind received the greatest enjoyments immediately after their birth, whether they sprang from the earth, according to the ancient tradition, or came into being in some other manner, he will find none more beneficent to them than this. For, to compare one country with another of the same extent, Italy is, in my opinion, the best country, not only of Europe, but even of all the rest of the world.,3. And yet I am not unaware that I shall not be believed by many when they reflect on Egypt, Libya, Babylonia and any other fertile countries there may be. But I, for my part, do not limit the wealth derived from the soil to one sort of produce, nor do I feel any eagerness to live where there are only rich arable lands and little or nothing else that is useful; but I account that country the best which is the most self-sufficient and generally stands least in need of imported commodities. And I am persuaded that Italy enjoys this universal fertility and diversity of advantages beyond any other land. 1.37. 1. For Italy does not, while possessing a great deal of good arable land, lack trees, as does a grain-bearing country; nor, on the other hand, while suitable for growing all manner of trees, does it, when sown to grain, produce scanty crops, as does a timbered country; nor yet, while yielding both grain and trees in abundance, is it unsuitable for the grazing of cattle; nor can anyone say that, while it bears rich produce of crops and timber and herds, it is nevertheless disagreeable for men to live in. Nay, on the contrary, it abounds in practically everything that affords either pleasure or profit.,2. To what grain-bearing country, indeed, watered, not with rivers, but with rains from heaven, do the plains of Campania yield, in which I have seen fields that produce even three crops in a year, summer's harvest following upon that of winter and autumn's upon that of summer? To what olive orchards are those of the Messapians, the Daunians, the Sabines and many others inferior? To what vineyards those of Tyrrhenia and the Alban and the Falernian districts, where the soil is wonderfully kind to vines and with the least labour produces the finest grapes in the greatest abundance?,3. And besides the land that is cultivated one will find much that is left untilled as pasturage for sheep and goats, and still more extensive and more wonderful is the land suitable for grazing horses and cattle; for not only the marsh and meadow grass, which is very plentiful, but the dewy and well-watered grass of the glades, infinite in its abundance, furnish grazing for them in summer as well as in winter and keep them always in good condition.,4. But most wonderful of all are the forests growing upon the rocky heights, in the glens and on the uncultivated hills, from which the inhabitants are abundantly supplied with fine timber suitable for the building of ships as well as for all other purposes. Nor are any of these materials hard to come at or at a distance from human need, but they are easy to handle and readily available, owing to the multitude of rivers that flow through the whole peninsula and make the transportation and exchange of everything the land produces inexpensive.,5. Springs also of hot water have been discovered in many places, affording most pleasant baths and sovereign cures for chronic ailments. There are also mines of all sorts, plenty of wild beasts for hunting, and a great variety of sea fish, besides innumerable other things, some useful and others of a nature to excite wonder. But the finest thing of all is the climate, admirably tempered by the seasons, so that less than elsewhere is harm done by excessive cold or inordinate heat either to the growing fruits and grains or to the bodies of animals. |
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17. Horace, Letters, 1.14.19-1.14.20, 1.16, 1.16.1-1.16.16 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.16. although, by the great distance of time when he lived, he might have securely forged such lies; for he lived two thousand years ago; at which vast distance of ages the poets themselves have not been so hardy as to fix even the generations of their gods, much less the actions of their men, or their own laws. 1.16. but, after a long time, he got him up, and removed from that country also, with his people, and went into the land then called the land of Canaan, but now the land of Judea, and this when his posterity were become a multitude; as to which posterity of his, we relate their history in another work. Now the name of Abram is even still famous in the country of Damascus; and there is shown a village named from him, The Habitation of Abram.” |
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18. Horace, Epodes, 1.31 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.31. for he who is partaker of the priesthood must propagate of a wife of the same nation, without having any regard to money, or any other dignities; but he is to make a scrutiny, and take his wife’s genealogy from the ancient tables, and procure many witnesses to it; 1.31. that the rest commended what he had said with one consent, and did what they had resolved on, and so travelled over the desert. But that the difficulties of the journey being over, they came to a country inhabited, and that there they abused the men, and plundered and burnt their temples, and then came into that land which is called Judea, and there they built a city, and dwelt therein |
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19. Horace, Sermones, 1.1.115, 2.6, 2.6.1-2.6.12, 2.6.14-2.6.15 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 2.6. However, it is not a very easy thing to go over this man’s discourse, nor to know plainly what he means; yet does he seem, amidst a great confusion and disorder in his falsehoods, to produce, in the first place, such things as resemble what we have examined already, and relate to the departure of our forefathers out of Egypt; 2.6. nay, when last of all Caesar had taken Alexandria, she came to that pitch of cruelty, that she declared she had some hope of preserving her affairs still, in case she could kill the Jews, though it were with her own hand; to such a degree of barbarity and perfidiousness had she arrived; and doth any one think that we cannot boast ourselves of any thing, if, as Apion says, this queen did not at a time of famine distribute wheat among us? |
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20. Livy, History, 1.32.6 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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21. Lucretius Carus, On The Nature of Things, 1.10-1.11, 1.67, 1.71, 1.111, 1.159-1.214, 1.313-1.314, 1.932, 2.2, 2.7-2.8, 2.24-2.29, 2.48-2.49, 2.56-2.58, 2.621, 2.629-2.630, 2.700-2.707, 2.1150-2.1174, 3.1-3.2, 3.9, 3.18, 3.25-3.27, 3.41, 3.59-3.78, 3.88-3.90, 3.461, 3.866, 3.978-3.1023, 4.7, 4.1099, 5.9-5.12, 5.14-5.21, 5.45-5.46, 5.114, 5.142, 5.206-5.217, 5.233-5.234, 5.917, 5.923-5.926, 5.934, 5.939-5.942, 5.958-5.959, 5.965, 5.1006, 5.1091-5.1104, 5.1165-5.1167, 5.1250-5.1251, 5.1266-5.1268, 5.1281-5.1349, 5.1361-5.1378, 5.1416, 5.1430, 5.1436-5.1442, 5.1452-5.1457, 6.36-6.38, 6.47, 6.396, 6.1138-6.1143 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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22. Ovid, Amores, 2.11.1-2.11.6 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
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23. Ovid, Fasti, 1.319-1.332, 4.783-4.806, 5.721 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
| 1.319. The day may take its name from the girded priest 1.320. At whose blow the god’s sacrifice is felled: 1.321. Always, before he stains the naked blade with hot blood 1.322. He asks if he should (agatne), and won’t unless commanded. 1.323. Some believe that the day is called Agonal because 1.324. The sheep do not come to the altar but are driven (agantur). 1.325. Others think the ancients called this festival Agnalia 1.326. ‘of the lambs’, dropping a letter from its usual place. 1.327. Or because the victim fears the knife mirrored in the water 1.328. The day might be so called from the creature’s agony? 1.329. It may also be that the day has a Greek name 1.330. From the games (agones) that were held in former times. 1.331. And in ancient speech agonia meant a sheep 1.332. And this last reason in my judgement is the truth. 4.783. I’ve set forth the custom: I must still tell of its origin: 4.784. But many explanations cause me doubt, and hold me back. 4.785. Greedy fire devours all things, and melts away the dro 4.786. From metals: the same method cleans shepherd and sheep? 4.787. Or is it because all things are formed 4.788. of two opposing powers, fire and water 4.789. And our ancestors joined these elements, and thought fit 4.790. To touch their bodies with fire and sprinkled water? 4.791. Or did they think the two so powerful, because they contain 4.792. The source of life: denied to the exile, it makes the new bride? 4.793. I can scarce believe it, but some consider it refer 4.794. To Phaethon, and to Deucalion’s flood. 4.795. Some say, too, that once when shepherds struck 4.796. Stones together, a spark suddenly leapt out: 4.797. The first died, but the second set fire to straw: 4.798. Is that the basis for the fires of the Parilia? 4.799. Or is the custom due rather to Aeneas’ piety 4.800. To whom the fire gave safe passage, in defeat? 4.801. Or is this nearer the truth, that when Rome was founded 4.802. They were commanded to move the Lares to their new homes 4.803. And changing homes the farmers set fire to the houses 4.804. And to the cottages, they were about to abandon 4.805. They and their cattle leaping through the flames 4.806. As happens even now on Rome’s birthday? |
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24. Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.89-1.150, 6.721, 15.111-15.126 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
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25. Propertius, Elegies, 3.1.9-3.1.12 (1st cent. BCE
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26. Strabo, Geography, 6.4.1, 15.1.64 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 6.4.1. Such, indeed, is the size and such the character of Italy. And while I have already mentioned many things which have caused the Romans at the present time to be exalted to so great a height, I shall now indicate the most important things. One is, that, like an island, Italy is securely guarded by the seas on all sides, except in a few regions, and even these are fortified by mountains that are hardly passable. A second is that along most of its coast it is harborless and that the harbors it does have are large and admirable. The former is useful in meeting attacks from the outside, while the latter is helpful in making counter-attacks and in promoting an abundant commerce. A third is that it is characterized by many differences of air and temperature, on which depend the greater variation, whether for better or for worse, in animals, plants, and, in short, everything that is useful for the support of life. Its length extends from north to south, generally speaking, and Sicily counts as an addition to its length, already so great. Now mild temperature and harsh temperature of the air are judged by heat, cold, and their intermediates; and so from this it necessarily follows that what is now Italy, situated as it is between the two extremes and extending to such a length, shares very largely in the temperate zone and in a very large number of ways. And the following is still another advantage which has fallen to the lot of Italy; since the Apennine Mountains extend through the whole of its length and leave on both sides plains and hills which bear fine fruits, there is no part of it which does not enjoy the blessings of both mountain and plain. And add also to this the size and number of its rivers and its lakes, and, besides these, the fountains of water, both hot and cold, which in many places nature has provided as an aid to health, and then again its good supply of mines of all sorts. Neither can one worthily describe Italy's abundant supply of fuel, and of food both for men and beast, and the excellence of its fruits. Further, since it lies intermediate between the largest races on the one hand, and Greece and the best parts of Libya on the other, it not only is naturally well-suited to hegemony, because it surpasses the countries that surround it both in the valor of its people and in size, but also can easily avail itself of their services, because it is close to them. 15.1.64. He conversed with Calanus, one of these sophists, who accompanied the king to Persia, and died after the custom of his country, being placed on a pile of [burning] wood. When Onesicritus came, he was lying upon stones. Onesicritus approached, accosted him, and told him that he had been sent by the king, who had heard the fame of his wisdom, and that he was to give an account of his interview, if there were no objection, he was ready to listen to his discourse. When Calanus saw his mantle, head-covering, and shoes, he laughed, and said, 'Formerly, there was abundance everywhere of corn and barley, as there is now of dust; fountains then flowed with water, milk, honey, wine, and oil, but mankind by repletion and luxury became proud and insolent. Jupiter, indigt at this state of things, destroyed all, and appointed for man a life of toil. On the reappearance of temperance and other virtues, there was again an abundance of good things. But at present the condition of mankind approaches satiety and insolence, and there is danger lest the things which now exist should disappear.'When he had finished, he proposed to Onesicritus, if he wished to hear his discourse, to strip off his clothes, to lie down naked by him on the same stones, and in that manner to listen to him; while he was hesitating what to do, Mandanis, who was the oldest and wisest of the sophists, reproached Calanus for his insolence, although he censured such insolence himself. Mandanis called Onesicritus to him, and said, I commend the king, because, although he governs so large an empire, he is yet desirous of acquiring wisdom, for he is the only philosopher in arms that I ever saw; it would be of the greatest advantage, if those were philosophers who have the power of persuading the willing and of compelling the unwilling to learn temperance; but I am entitled to indulgence, if, when conversing by means of three interpreters, who, except the language, know no more than the vulgar, I am not able to demonstrate the utility of philosophy. To attempt it is to expect water to flow pure through mud. |
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27. Tibullus, Elegies, 1.3.35-1.3.50, 1.10.1-1.10.12 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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28. Vergil, Aeneis, 1.33, 1.205, 1.257-1.304, 1.462, 1.628-1.630, 4.365-4.366, 4.369-4.370, 4.386, 4.412, 6.264-6.267, 6.277, 6.752-6.892, 7.46, 7.181-7.186, 7.601-7.623, 8.55, 8.319-8.332, 8.625-8.728, 9.62, 10.104-10.117, 10.727, 12.250, 12.261, 12.830-12.840 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.33. the Fatal Sisters spun. Such was the fear 1.205. a life to duty given, swift silence falls; 1.257. in panic through the leafy wood, nor ceased 1.258. the victory of his bow, till on the ground 1.259. lay seven huge forms, one gift for every ship. 1.260. Then back to shore he sped, and to his friends 1.261. distributed the spoil, with that rare wine 1.262. which good Acestes while in Sicily 1.263. had stored in jars, and prince-like sent away 1.264. with his Ioved guest;—this too Aeneas gave; 1.266. “Companions mine, we have not failed to feel 1.267. calamity till now. O, ye have borne 1.268. far heavier sorrow: Jove will make an end 1.269. also of this. Ye sailed a course hard by 1.270. infuriate Scylla's howling cliffs and caves. 1.271. Ye knew the Cyclops' crags. Lift up your hearts! 1.272. No more complaint and fear! It well may be 1.273. ome happier hour will find this memory fair. 1.274. Through chance and change and hazard without end 1.275. our goal is Latium ; where our destinies 1.276. beckon to blest abodes, and have ordained 1.277. that Troy shall rise new-born! Have patience all! 1.279. Such was his word, but vexed with grief and care 1.280. feigned hopes upon his forehead firm he wore 1.281. and locked within his heart a hero's pain. 1.282. Now round the welcome trophies of his chase 1.283. they gather for a feast. Some flay the ribs 1.284. and bare the flesh below; some slice with knives 1.285. and on keen prongs the quivering strips impale 1.286. place cauldrons on the shore, and fan the fires. 1.287. Then, stretched at ease on couch of simple green 1.288. they rally their lost powers, and feast them well 1.289. on seasoned wine and succulent haunch of game. 1.290. But hunger banished and the banquet done 1.291. in long discourse of their lost mates they tell 1.292. 'twixt hopes and fears divided; for who knows 1.293. whether the lost ones live, or strive with death 1.294. or heed no more whatever voice may call? 1.295. Chiefly Aeneas now bewails his friends 1.296. Orontes brave and fallen Amycus 1.297. or mourns with grief untold the untimely doom 1.299. After these things were past, exalted Jove 1.300. from his ethereal sky surveying clear 1.301. the seas all winged with sails, lands widely spread 1.302. and nations populous from shore to shore 1.303. paused on the peak of heaven, and fixed his gaze 1.304. on Libya . But while he anxious mused 1.462. honors divine. We Tyrian virgins oft 1.628. which calmed Aeneas' fears, and made him bold 1.629. to hope for safety, and with lifted heart 1.630. from his low-fallen fortunes re-aspire. 4.365. or round tall crags where rove the swarming fish 4.366. flies Iow along the waves: o'er-hovering so 4.369. parted the winds and skimmed the sandy merge 4.370. of Libya . When first his winged feet 4.386. me bear on winged winds his high decree. 4.412. but carefully dissembling what emprise 6.264. The lightly-feeding doves flit on and on 6.265. Ever in easy ken of following eyes 6.266. Till over foul Avernus' sulphurous throat 6.267. Swiftly they lift them through the liquid air 6.277. Rustled in each light breeze. Aeneas grasped 6.752. Came on my view; their hands made stroke at Heaven 6.753. And strove to thrust Jove from his seat on high. 6.754. I saw Salmoneus his dread stripes endure 6.755. Who dared to counterfeit Olympian thunder 6.756. And Jove's own fire. In chariot of four steeds 6.757. Brandishing torches, he triumphant rode 6.758. Through throngs of Greeks, o'er Elis ' sacred way 6.759. Demanding worship as a god. 0 fool! 6.760. To mock the storm's inimitable flash— 6.761. With crash of hoofs and roll of brazen wheel! 6.762. But mightiest Jove from rampart of thick cloud 6.763. Hurled his own shaft, no flickering, mortal flame 6.764. And in vast whirl of tempest laid him low. 6.765. Next unto these, on Tityos I looked 6.766. Child of old Earth, whose womb all creatures bears: 6.767. Stretched o'er nine roods he lies; a vulture huge 6.768. Tears with hooked beak at his immortal side 6.769. Or deep in entrails ever rife with pain 6.770. Gropes for a feast, making his haunt and home 6.771. In the great Titan bosom; nor will give 6.772. To ever new-born flesh surcease of woe. 6.773. Why name Ixion and Pirithous 6.774. The Lapithae, above whose impious brows 6.775. A crag of flint hangs quaking to its fall 6.776. As if just toppling down, while couches proud 6.777. Propped upon golden pillars, bid them feast 6.778. In royal glory: but beside them lies 6.779. The eldest of the Furies, whose dread hands 6.780. Thrust from the feast away, and wave aloft 6.781. A flashing firebrand, with shrieks of woe. 6.782. Here in a prison-house awaiting doom 6.783. Are men who hated, long as life endured 6.784. Their brothers, or maltreated their gray sires 6.785. Or tricked a humble friend; the men who grasped 6.786. At hoarded riches, with their kith and kin 6.787. Not sharing ever—an unnumbered throng; 6.788. Here slain adulterers be; and men who dared 6.789. To fight in unjust cause, and break all faith 6.790. With their own lawful lords. Seek not to know 6.791. What forms of woe they feel, what fateful shape 6.792. of retribution hath o'erwhelmed them there. 6.793. Some roll huge boulders up; some hang on wheels 6.794. Lashed to the whirling spokes; in his sad seat 6.795. Theseus is sitting, nevermore to rise; 6.796. Unhappy Phlegyas uplifts his voice 6.797. In warning through the darkness, calling loud 6.798. ‘0, ere too late, learn justice and fear God!’ 6.799. Yon traitor sold his country, and for gold 6.800. Enchained her to a tyrant, trafficking 6.801. In laws, for bribes enacted or made void; 6.802. Another did incestuously take 6.803. His daughter for a wife in lawless bonds. 6.804. All ventured some unclean, prodigious crime; 6.805. And what they dared, achieved. I could not tell 6.806. Not with a hundred mouths, a hundred tongues 6.807. Or iron voice, their divers shapes of sin 6.809. So spake Apollo's aged prophetess. 6.810. “Now up and on!” she cried. “Thy task fulfil! 6.811. We must make speed. Behold yon arching doors 6.812. Yon walls in furnace of the Cyclops forged! 6.813. 'T is there we are commanded to lay down 6.814. Th' appointed offering.” So, side by side 6.815. Swift through the intervening dark they strode 6.816. And, drawing near the portal-arch, made pause. 6.817. Aeneas, taking station at the door 6.818. Pure, lustral waters o'er his body threw 6.820. Now, every rite fulfilled, and tribute due 6.821. Paid to the sovereign power of Proserpine 6.822. At last within a land delectable 6.823. Their journey lay, through pleasurable bowers 6.824. of groves where all is joy,—a blest abode! 6.825. An ampler sky its roseate light bestows 6.826. On that bright land, which sees the cloudless beam 6.827. of suns and planets to our earth unknown. 6.828. On smooth green lawns, contending limb with limb 6.829. Immortal athletes play, and wrestle long 6.830. 'gainst mate or rival on the tawny sand; 6.831. With sounding footsteps and ecstatic song 6.832. Some thread the dance divine: among them moves 6.833. The bard of Thrace, in flowing vesture clad 6.834. Discoursing seven-noted melody 6.835. Who sweeps the numbered strings with changeful hand 6.836. Or smites with ivory point his golden lyre. 6.837. Here Trojans be of eldest, noblest race 6.838. Great-hearted heroes, born in happier times 6.839. Ilus, Assaracus, and Dardanus 6.840. Illustrious builders of the Trojan town. 6.841. Their arms and shadowy chariots he views 6.842. And lances fixed in earth, while through the fields 6.843. Their steeds without a bridle graze at will. 6.844. For if in life their darling passion ran 6.845. To chariots, arms, or glossy-coated steeds 6.846. The self-same joy, though in their graves, they feel. 6.847. Lo! on the left and right at feast reclined 6.848. Are other blessed souls, whose chorus sings 6.849. Victorious paeans on the fragrant air 6.850. of laurel groves; and hence to earth outpours 6.851. Eridanus, through forests rolling free. 6.852. Here dwell the brave who for their native land 6.853. Fell wounded on the field; here holy priests 6.854. Who kept them undefiled their mortal day; 6.855. And poets, of whom the true-inspired song 6.856. Deserved Apollo's name; and all who found 6.857. New arts, to make man's life more blest or fair; 6.858. Yea! here dwell all those dead whose deeds bequeath 6.859. Deserved and grateful memory to their kind. 6.860. And each bright brow a snow-white fillet wears. 6.861. Unto this host the Sibyl turned, and hailed 6.862. Musaeus, midmost of a numerous throng 6.863. Who towered o'er his peers a shoulder higher: 6.864. “0 spirits blest! 0 venerable bard! 6.865. Declare what dwelling or what region holds 6.866. Anchises, for whose sake we twain essayed 6.867. Yon passage over the wide streams of hell.” 6.868. And briefly thus the hero made reply: 6.869. “No fixed abode is ours. In shadowy groves 6.870. We make our home, or meadows fresh and fair 6.871. With streams whose flowery banks our couches be. 6.872. But you, if thitherward your wishes turn 6.873. Climb yonder hill, where I your path may show.” 6.874. So saying, he strode forth and led them on 6.875. Till from that vantage they had prospect fair 6.876. of a wide, shining land; thence wending down 6.877. They left the height they trod; for far below 6.878. Father Anchises in a pleasant vale 6.879. Stood pondering, while his eyes and thought surveyed 6.880. A host of prisoned spirits, who there abode 6.881. Awaiting entrance to terrestrial air. 6.882. And musing he reviewed the legions bright 6.883. of his own progeny and offspring proud— 6.884. Their fates and fortunes, virtues and great deeds. 6.885. Soon he discerned Aeneas drawing nigh 6.886. o'er the green slope, and, lifting both his hands 6.887. In eager welcome, spread them swiftly forth. 6.888. Tears from his eyelids rained, and thus he spoke: 6.889. “Art here at last? Hath thy well-proven love 6.890. of me thy sire achieved yon arduous way? 6.891. Will Heaven, beloved son, once more allow 6.892. That eye to eye we look? and shall I hear 7.46. Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones 7.181. news of the day at hand when they should build 7.182. their destined walls. So, with rejoicing heart 7.183. at such vast omen, they set forth a feast 7.184. with zealous emulation, ranging well 7.186. Soon as the morrow with the lamp of dawn 7.601. from where my sister-furies dwell! My hands 7.602. bring bloody death and war.” She spoke, and hurled 7.603. her firebrand at the hero, thrusting deep 7.604. beneath his heart her darkly smouldering flame. 7.605. Then horror broke his sleep, and fearful sweat 7.606. dripped from his every limb. He shrieked aloud 7.607. for arms; and seized the ready arms that lay 7.608. around his couch and hall. Then o'er his soul 7.609. the lust of battle and wild curse of war 7.610. broke forth in angry power, as when the flames 7.611. of faggots round the bubbling cauldron sing 7.612. and up the waters leap; the close-kept flood 7.613. brims over, streaming, foaming, breaking bound 7.614. and flings thick clouds in air. He, summoning 7.615. his chieftains, bade them on Latinus move 7.616. break peace, take arms, and, over Italy 7.617. their shields extending, to thrust forth her foe: 7.618. himself for Teucrian with Latin joined 7.619. was more than match. He called upon the gods 7.620. in witness of his vows: while, nothing loth 7.621. Rutulia's warriors rushed into array; 7.622. ome by his youth and noble beauty moved 8.55. has stilled its swollen wave. A sign I tell: 8.319. filled all the arching sky, the river's banks 8.320. asunder leaped, and Tiber in alarm 8.321. reversed his flowing wave. So Cacus' lair 8.322. lay shelterless, and naked to the day 8.323. the gloomy caverns of his vast abode 8.324. tood open, deeply yawning, just as if 8.325. the riven earth should crack, and open wide 8.326. th' infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale 8.327. which gods abhor; and to the realms on high 8.328. the measureless abyss should be laid bare 8.329. and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun. 8.330. Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare 8.331. caged in the rocks and howling horribly 8.332. Alcides hurled his weapons, raining down 8.625. “Great leader of the Teucrians, while thy life 8.626. in safety stands, I call not Trojan power 8.627. vanquished or fallen. But to help thy war 8.628. my small means match not thy redoubled name. 8.629. Yon Tuscan river is my bound. That way 8.630. Rutulia thrusts us hard and chafes our wall 8.631. with loud, besieging arms. But I propose 8.632. to league with thee a numerous array 8.633. of kings and mighty tribes, which fortune strange 8.634. now brings to thy defence. Thou comest here 8.635. because the Fates intend. Not far from ours 8.636. a city on an ancient rock is seen 8.637. Agylla, which a warlike Lydian clan 8.638. built on the Tuscan hills. It prospered well 8.639. for many a year, then under the proud yoke 8.640. of King Mezentius it came and bore 8.641. his cruel sway. Why tell the loathsome deeds 8.642. and crimes unspeakable the despot wrought? 8.643. May Heaven requite them on his impious head 8.644. and on his children! For he used to chain 8.645. dead men to living, hand on hand was laid 8.646. and face on face,—torment incredible! 8.647. Till, locked in blood-stained, horrible embrace 8.648. a lingering death they found. But at the last 8.649. his people rose in furious despair 8.650. and while he blasphemously raged, assailed 8.651. his life and throne, cut down his guards 8.652. and fired his regal dwellings; he, the while 8.653. escaped immediate death and fied away 8.654. to the Rutulian land, to find defence 8.655. in Turnus hospitality. To-day 8.656. Etruria, to righteous anger stirred 8.657. demands with urgent arms her guilty King. 8.658. To their large host, Aeneas, I will give 8.659. an added strength, thyself. For yonder shores 8.660. re-echo with the tumult and the cry 8.661. of ships in close array; their eager lords 8.662. are clamoring for battle. But the song 8.663. of the gray omen-giver thus declares 8.664. their destiny: ‘O goodly princes born 8.665. of old Maeonian lineage! Ye that are 8.666. the bloom and glory of an ancient race 8.667. whom just occasions now and noble rage 8.668. enflame against Mezentius your foe 8.669. it is decreed that yonder nation proud 8.670. hall never submit to chiefs Italian-born. 8.671. Seek ye a king from far!’ So in the field 8.672. inert and fearful lies Etruria's force 8.673. disarmed by oracles. Their Tarchon sent 8.674. envoys who bore a sceptre and a crown 8.675. even to me, and prayed I should assume 8.676. the sacred emblems of Etruria's king 8.677. and lead their host to war. But unto me 8.678. cold, sluggish age, now barren and outworn 8.679. denies new kingdoms, and my slow-paced powers 8.680. run to brave deeds no more. Nor could I urge 8.681. my son, who by his Sabine mother's line 8.682. is half Italian-born. Thyself art he 8.683. whose birth illustrious and manly prime 8.684. fate favors and celestial powers approve. 8.685. Therefore go forth, O bravest chief and King 8.686. of Troy and Italy ! To thee I give 8.687. the hope and consolation of our throne 8.688. pallas, my son, and bid him find in thee 8.689. a master and example, while he learns 8.690. the soldier's arduous toil. With thy brave deeds 8.691. let him familiar grow, and reverence thee 8.692. with youthful love and honor. In his train 8.693. two hundred horsemen of Arcadia 8.694. our choicest men-at-arms, shall ride; and he 8.695. in his own name an equal band shall bring 8.696. to follow only thee.” Such the discourse. 8.697. With meditative brows and downcast eyes 8.698. Aeneas and Achates, sad at heart 8.699. mused on unnumbered perils yet to come. 8.700. But out of cloudless sky Cythera's Queen 8.701. gave sudden signal: from th' ethereal dome 8.702. a thunder-peal and flash of quivering fire 8.703. tumultuous broke, as if the world would fall 8.704. and bellowing Tuscan trumpets shook the air. 8.705. All eyes look up. Again and yet again 8.706. crashed the terrible din, and where the sky 8.707. looked clearest hung a visionary cloud 8.708. whence through the brightness blazed resounding arms. 8.709. All hearts stood still. But Troy 's heroic son 8.710. knew that his mother in the skies redeemed 8.711. her pledge in sound of thunder: so he cried 8.712. “Seek not, my friend, seek not thyself to read 8.713. the meaning of the omen. 'T is to me 8.714. Olympus calls. My goddess-mother gave 8.715. long since her promise of a heavenly sign 8.716. if war should burst; and that her power would bring 8.717. a panoply from Vulcan through the air 8.718. to help us at our need. Alas, what deaths 8.719. over Laurentum's ill-starred host impend! 8.720. O Turnus, what a reckoning thou shalt pay 8.721. to me in arms! O Tiber, in thy wave 8.722. what helms and shields and mighty soldiers slain 8.723. hall in confusion roll! Yea, let them lead 8.725. He said: and from the lofty throne uprose. 8.726. Straightway he roused anew the slumbering fire 8.727. acred to Hercules, and glad at heart 8.728. adored, as yesterday, the household gods 9.62. dappled with white he rode; a crimson plume 10.104. on his hereditary earth, the son 10.105. of old Pilumnus and the nymph divine 10.106. Venilia? For what offence would Troy 10.107. bring sword and fire on Latium, or enslave 10.108. lands of an alien name, and bear away 10.109. plunder and spoil? Why seek they marriages 10.110. and snatch from arms of love the plighted maids? 10.111. An olive-branch is in their hands; their ships 10.112. make menace of grim steel. Thy power one day 10.113. ravished Aeneas from his Argive foes 10.114. and gave them shape of cloud and fleeting air 10.115. to strike at for a man. Thou hast transformed 10.116. his ships to daughters of the sea. What wrong 10.117. if I, not less, have lent the Rutuli 10.727. in shining vesture he, and glittering arms. 12.250. Father omnipotent, I call; on thee 12.261. unto Evander's city! From these plains 12.830. pursued a scattered few; but less his speed 12.831. for less and less his worn steeds worked his will; 12.832. and now wind-wafted to his straining ear 12.833. a nameless horror came, a dull, wild roar 12.834. the city's tumult and distressful cry. 12.835. “Alack,” he cried, “what stirs in yonder walls 12.836. uch anguish? Or why rings from side to side 12.837. uch wailing through the city?” Asking so 12.838. he tightened frantic grasp upon the rein. 12.839. To him his sister, counterfeiting still 12.840. the charioteer Metiscus, while she swayed |
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29. Vergil, Eclogues, 4.4-4.10, 4.13, 4.18-4.25, 4.31-4.33, 10.75-10.76 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 4.4. woods worthy of a Consul let them be. 4.5. Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung 4.6. has come and gone, and the majestic roll 4.7. of circling centuries begins anew: 4.8. justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign 4.9. with a new breed of men sent down from heaven. 4.10. Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom 4.13. apollo reigns. And in thy consulate 4.18. hall free the earth from never-ceasing fear. 4.19. He shall receive the life of gods, and see 4.20. heroes with gods commingling, and himself 4.21. be seen of them, and with his father's worth 4.22. reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy 4.23. first shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth 4.24. her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray 4.25. with foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed 4.31. caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die 4.32. die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far 4.33. and wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon 10.75. Cydonian arrows from a Parthian bow.— 10.76. as if my madness could find healing thus |
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30. Vergil, Georgics, 1.1-1.23, 1.39-1.40, 1.47, 1.50-1.53, 1.60-1.63, 1.74, 1.79, 1.84-1.95, 1.100, 1.104-1.106, 1.112-1.113, 1.118-1.124, 1.126-1.168, 1.176-1.186, 1.197-1.207, 1.218, 1.229, 1.233-1.249, 1.257, 1.270, 1.273-1.283, 1.291-1.294, 1.299, 1.316-1.334, 1.337-1.351, 1.353, 1.415-1.423, 1.439, 1.446-1.447, 1.493-1.497, 1.505, 1.508, 1.512-1.514, 2.39, 2.47-2.72, 2.114, 2.136-2.138, 2.149-2.154, 2.173-2.176, 2.211, 2.323-2.345, 2.397, 2.405-2.406, 2.412, 2.417, 2.420, 2.458-2.542, 3.3-3.8, 3.115-3.117, 3.258-3.263, 3.266-3.268, 3.339-3.383, 3.478-3.566, 4.1-4.50, 4.59-4.61, 4.67-4.215, 4.217-4.218, 4.559-4.566 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.1. What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star 1.2. Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod 1.3. Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer; 1.4. What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof 1.5. of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;— 1.6. Such are my themes. O universal light 1.7. Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year 1.8. Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild 1.9. If by your bounty holpen earth once changed 1.10. Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear 1.11. And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift 1.12. The draughts of Achelous; and ye Faun 1.13. To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Faun 1.14. And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing. 1.15. And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first 1.16. Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke 1.17. Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom 1.18. Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes 1.19. The fertile brakes of placeName key= 1.20. Thy native forest and Lycean lawns 1.21. Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love 1.22. of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear 1.23. And help, O lord of placeName key= 1.39. Sole dread of seamen, till far placeName key= 1.40. Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son 1.47. For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king 1.50. Elysium's fields, and Proserpine not heed 1.51. Her mother's voice entreating to return— 1.52. Vouchsafe a prosperous voyage, and smile on thi 1.53. My bold endeavour, and pitying, even as I 1.60. And teach the furrow-burnished share to shine. 1.61. That land the craving farmer's prayer fulfils 1.62. Which twice the sunshine, twice the frost has felt; 1.63. Ay, that's the land whose boundless harvest-crop 1.74. Iron from the naked Chalybs, castor rank 1.79. When old Deucalion on the unpeopled earth 1.84. By the ripe suns of summer; but if the earth 1.85. Less fruitful just ere Arcturus rise 1.86. With shallower trench uptilt it—'twill suffice; 1.87. There, lest weeds choke the crop's luxuriance, here 1.88. Lest the scant moisture fail the barren sand. 1.89. Then thou shalt suffer in alternate year 1.90. The new-reaped fields to rest, and on the plain 1.91. A crust of sloth to harden; or, when star 1.92. Are changed in heaven, there sow the golden grain 1.93. Where erst, luxuriant with its quivering pod 1.94. Pulse, or the slender vetch-crop, thou hast cleared 1.95. And lupin sour, whose brittle stalks arise 1.100. With refuse rich to soak the thirsty soil 1.104. oft, too, 'twill boot to fire the naked fields 1.105. And the light stubble burn with crackling flames; 1.106. Whether that earth therefrom some hidden strength 1.112. Or that it hardens more and helps to bind 1.113. The gaping veins, lest penetrating showers 1.118. Hales o'er them; from the far Olympian height 1.119. Him golden Ceres not in vain regards; 1.120. And he, who having ploughed the fallow plain 1.121. And heaved its furrowy ridges, turns once more 1.122. Cross-wise his shattering share, with stroke on stroke 1.123. The earth assails, and makes the field his thrall. 1.124. Pray for wet summers and for winters fine 1.126. Exceedingly rejoice, the field hath joy; 1.127. No tilth makes placeName key= 1.128. Nor Gargarus his own harvests so admire. 1.129. Why tell of him, who, having launched his seed 1.130. Sets on for close encounter, and rakes smooth 1.131. The dry dust hillocks, then on the tender corn 1.132. Lets in the flood, whose waters follow fain; 1.133. And when the parched field quivers, and all the blade 1.134. Are dying, from the brow of its hill-bed 1.135. See! see! he lures the runnel; down it falls 1.136. Waking hoarse murmurs o'er the polished stones 1.137. And with its bubblings slakes the thirsty fields? 1.138. Or why of him, who lest the heavy ear 1.139. O'erweigh the stalk, while yet in tender blade 1.140. Feeds down the crop's luxuriance, when its growth 1.141. First tops the furrows? Why of him who drain 1.142. The marsh-land's gathered ooze through soaking sand 1.143. Chiefly what time in treacherous moons a stream 1.144. Goes out in spate, and with its coat of slime 1.145. Holds all the country, whence the hollow dyke 1.146. Sweat steaming vapour? 1.147. But no whit the more 1.148. For all expedients tried and travail borne 1.149. By man and beast in turning oft the soil 1.150. Do greedy goose and Strymon-haunting crane 1.151. And succory's bitter fibres cease to harm 1.152. Or shade not injure. The great Sire himself 1.153. No easy road to husbandry assigned 1.154. And first was he by human skill to rouse 1.155. The slumbering glebe, whetting the minds of men 1.156. With care on care, nor suffering realm of hi 1.157. In drowsy sloth to stagnate. Before Jove 1.158. Fields knew no taming hand of husbandmen; 1.159. To mark the plain or mete with boundary-line— 1.160. Even this was impious; for the common stock 1.161. They gathered, and the earth of her own will 1.162. All things more freely, no man bidding, bore. 1.163. He to black serpents gave their venom-bane 1.164. And bade the wolf go prowl, and ocean toss; 1.165. Shooed from the leaves their honey, put fire away 1.166. And curbed the random rivers running wine 1.167. That use by gradual dint of thought on thought 1.168. Might forge the various arts, with furrow's help 1.176. And hem with hounds the mighty forest-glades. 1.177. Soon one with hand-net scourges the broad stream 1.178. Probing its depths, one drags his dripping toil 1.179. Along the main; then iron's unbending might 1.180. And shrieking saw-blade,—for the men of old 1.181. With wedges wont to cleave the splintering log;— 1.182. Then divers arts arose; toil conquered all 1.183. Remorseless toil, and poverty's shrewd push 1.184. In times of hardship. Ceres was the first 1.185. Set mortals on with tools to turn the sod 1.186. When now the awful groves 'gan fail to bear 1.197. Prune with thy hook the dark field's matted shade 1.198. Pray down the showers, all vainly thou shalt eye 1.199. Alack! thy neighbour's heaped-up harvest-mow 1.200. And in the greenwood from a shaken oak 1.201. Seek solace for thine hunger. 1.202. Now to tell 1.203. The sturdy rustics' weapons, what they are 1.204. Without which, neither can be sown nor reared 1.205. The fruits of harvest; first the bent plough's share 1.206. And heavy timber, and slow-lumbering wain 1.207. of the Eleusinian mother, threshing-sleigh 1.218. And share-beam with its double back they fix. 1.229. Lest weeds arise, or dust a passage win 1.233. Or burrow for their bed the purblind moles 1.234. Or toad is found in hollows, and all the swarm 1.235. of earth's unsightly creatures; or a huge 1.236. Corn-heap the weevil plunders, and the ant 1.237. Fearful of coming age and penury. 1.238. Mark too, what time the walnut in the wood 1.239. With ample bloom shall clothe her, and bow down 1.240. Her odorous branches, if the fruit prevail 1.241. Like store of grain will follow, and there shall come 1.242. A mighty winnowing-time with mighty heat; 1.243. But if the shade with wealth of leaves abound 1.244. Vainly your threshing-floor will bruise the stalk 1.245. Rich but in chaff. Many myself have seen 1.246. Steep, as they sow, their pulse-seeds, drenching them 1.247. With nitre and black oil-lees, that the fruit 1.248. Might swell within the treacherous pods, and they 1.249. Make speed to boil at howso small a fire. 1.257. His arms to slacken, lo! with headlong force 1.270. Aye, more than time to bend above the plough 1.273. Thee, too, Lucerne, the crumbling furrows then 1.274. Receive, and millet's annual care returns 1.275. What time the white bull with his gilded horn 1.276. Opens the year, before whose threatening front 1.277. Routed the dog-star sinks. But if it be 1.278. For wheaten harvest and the hardy spelt 1.279. Thou tax the soil, to corn-ears wholly given 1.280. Let Atlas' daughters hide them in the dawn 1.281. The Cretan star, a crown of fire, depart 1.282. Or e'er the furrow's claim of seed thou quit 1.283. Or haste thee to entrust the whole year's hope 1.291. Pursue thy sowing till half the frosts be done. 1.292. Therefore it is the golden sun, his course 1.293. Into fixed parts dividing, rules his way 1.294. Through the twelve constellations of the world. 1.299. And black with scowling storm-clouds, and betwixt 1.316. And when the first breath of his panting steed 1.317. On us the Orient flings, that hour with them 1.318. Red Vesper 'gins to trim his 'lated fires. 1.319. Hence under doubtful skies forebode we can 1.320. The coming tempests, hence both harvest-day 1.321. And seed-time, when to smite the treacherous main 1.322. With driving oars, when launch the fair-rigged fleet 1.323. Or in ripe hour to fell the forest-pine. 1.324. Hence, too, not idly do we watch the stars— 1.325. Their rising and their setting-and the year 1.326. Four varying seasons to one law conformed. 1.327. If chilly showers e'er shut the farmer's door 1.328. Much that had soon with sunshine cried for haste 1.329. He may forestall; the ploughman batters keen 1.330. His blunted share's hard tooth, scoops from a tree 1.331. His troughs, or on the cattle stamps a brand 1.332. Or numbers on the corn-heaps; some make sharp 1.333. The stakes and two-pronged forks, and willow-band 1.334. Amerian for the bending vine prepare. 1.337. Before the fire; now bruise it with the stone. 1.338. Nay even on holy days some tasks to ply 1.339. Is right and lawful: this no ban forbids 1.340. To turn the runnel's course, fence corn-fields in 1.341. Make springes for the birds, burn up the briars 1.342. And plunge in wholesome stream the bleating flock. 1.343. oft too with oil or apples plenty-cheap 1.344. The creeping ass's ribs his driver packs 1.345. And home from town returning brings instead 1.346. A dented mill-stone or black lump of pitch. 1.347. The moon herself in various rank assign 1.348. The days for labour lucky: fly the fifth; 1.349. Then sprang pale Orcus and the Eumenides; 1.350. Earth then in awful labour brought to light 1.351. Coeus, Iapetus, and Typhoeus fell 1.353. The gates of heaven; thrice, sooth to say, they strove 1.415. Wields with red hand the levin; through all her bulk 1.416. Earth at the hurly quakes; the beasts are fled 1.417. And mortal hearts of every kindred sunk 1.418. In cowering terror; he with flaming brand 1.419. Athos , or Rhodope, or Ceraunian crag 1.420. Precipitates: then doubly raves the South 1.421. With shower on blinding shower, and woods and coast 1.422. Wail fitfully beneath the mighty blast. 1.423. This fearing, mark the months and Signs of heaven 1.439. Attend it, and with shouts bid Ceres come 1.446. That bring the frost, the Sire of all himself 1.447. Ordained what warnings in her monthly round 1.493. Stalks on the dry sand mateless and alone. 1.494. Nor e'en the maids, that card their nightly task 1.495. Know not the storm-sign, when in blazing crock 1.496. They see the lamp-oil sputtering with a growth 1.497. of mouldy snuff-clots. 1.505. Do halcyons dear to Thetis ope their wings 1.508. Seek more the vales, and rest upon the plain 1.512. Towering, and Scylla for the purple lock 1.513. Pays dear; for whereso, as she flies, her wing 1.514. The light air winnow, lo! fierce, implacable 2.39. Shrink to restore the topmost shoot to earth 2.47. Come then, and learn what tilth to each belong 2.48. According to their kinds, ye husbandmen 2.49. And tame with culture the wild fruits, lest earth 2.50. Lie idle. O blithe to make all Ismaru 2.51. One forest of the wine-god, and to clothe 2.52. With olives huge Tabernus! And be thou 2.53. At hand, and with me ply the voyage of toil 2.54. I am bound on, O my glory, O thou that art 2.55. Justly the chiefest portion of my fame 2.56. Maecenas, and on this wide ocean launched 2.57. Spread sail like wings to waft thee. Not that I 2.58. With my poor verse would comprehend the whole 2.59. Nay, though a hundred tongues, a hundred mouth 2.60. Were mine, a voice of iron; be thou at hand 2.61. Skirt but the nearer coast-line; see the shore 2.62. Is in our grasp; not now with feigned song 2.63. Through winding bouts and tedious preluding 2.64. Shall I detain thee. 2.65. Those that lift their head 2.66. Into the realms of light spontaneously 2.67. Fruitless indeed, but blithe and strenuous spring 2.68. Since Nature lurks within the soil. And yet 2.69. Even these, should one engraft them, or transplant 2.70. To well-drilled trenches, will anon put of 2.71. Their woodland temper, and, by frequent tilth 2.72. To whatso craft thou summon them, make speed 2.114. Fat olives, orchades, and radii 2.136. But lo! how many kinds, and what their names 2.137. There is no telling, nor doth it boot to tell; 2.138. Who lists to know it, he too would list to learn 2.149. Mark too the earth by outland tillers tamed 2.150. And Eastern homes of Arabs, and tattooed 2.151. Geloni; to all trees their native land 2.152. Allotted are; no clime but placeName key= 2.153. Black ebony; the branch of frankincense 2.154. Is placeName key= 2.173. With it the Medes for sweetness lave the lips 2.174. And ease the panting breathlessness of age. 2.175. But no, not Mede-land with its wealth of woods 2.176. Nor Ganges fair, and Hermus thick with gold 2.211. Avernian inlets pours the Tuscan tide? 2.323. A glance will serve to warn thee which is black 2.324. Or what the hue of any. But hard it i 2.325. To track the signs of that pernicious cold: 2.326. Pines only, noxious yews, and ivies dark 2.327. At times reveal its traces. 2.328. All these rule 2.329. Regarding, let your land, ay, long before 2.330. Scorch to the quick, and into trenches carve 2.331. The mighty mountains, and their upturned clod 2.332. Bare to the north wind, ere thou plant therein 2.333. The vine's prolific kindred. Fields whose soil 2.334. Is crumbling are the best: winds look to that 2.335. And bitter hoar-frosts, and the delver's toil 2.336. Untiring, as he stirs the loosened glebe. 2.337. But those, whose vigilance no care escapes 2.338. Search for a kindred site, where first to rear 2.339. A nursery for the trees, and eke whereto 2.340. Soon to translate them, lest the sudden shock 2.341. From their new mother the young plants estrange. 2.342. Nay, even the quarter of the sky they brand 2.343. Upon the bark, that each may be restored 2.344. As erst it stood, here bore the southern heats 2.345. Here turned its shoulder to the northern pole; 2.397. Can they recover, and from the earth beneath 2.405. Comes the white bird long-bodied snakes abhor 2.406. Or on the eve of autumn's earliest frost 2.412. With quickening showers to his glad wife's embrace 2.417. Then the boon earth yields increase, and the field 2.420. Face the new suns, and safely trust them now; 2.458. Forbear their frailty, and while yet the bough 2.459. Shoots joyfully toward heaven, with loosened rein 2.460. Launched on the void, assail it not as yet 2.461. With keen-edged sickle, but let the leaves alone 2.462. Be culled with clip of fingers here and there. 2.463. But when they clasp the elms with sturdy trunk 2.464. Erect, then strip the leaves off, prune the boughs; 2.465. Sooner they shrink from steel, but then put forth 2.466. The arm of power, and stem the branchy tide. 2.467. Hedges too must be woven and all beast 2.468. Barred entrance, chiefly while the leaf is young 2.469. And witless of disaster; for therewith 2.470. Beside harsh winters and o'erpowering sun 2.471. Wild buffaloes and pestering goats for ay 2.472. Besport them, sheep and heifers glut their greed. 2.473. Nor cold by hoar-frost curdled, nor the prone 2.474. Dead weight of summer upon the parched crags 2.475. So scathe it, as the flocks with venom-bite 2.476. of their hard tooth, whose gnawing scars the stem. 2.477. For no offence but this to Bacchus bleed 2.478. The goat at every altar, and old play 2.479. Upon the stage find entrance; therefore too 2.480. The sons of Theseus through the country-side— 2.481. Hamlet and crossway—set the prize of wit 2.482. And on the smooth sward over oiled skin 2.483. Dance in their tipsy frolic. Furthermore 2.484. The Ausonian swains, a race from placeName key= 2.485. Make merry with rough rhymes and boisterous mirth 2.486. Grim masks of hollowed bark assume, invoke 2.487. Thee with glad hymns, O Bacchus, and to thee 2.488. Hang puppet-faces on tall pines to swing. 2.489. Hence every vineyard teems with mellowing fruit 2.490. Till hollow vale o'erflows, and gorge profound 2.491. Where'er the god hath turned his comely head. 2.492. Therefore to Bacchus duly will we sing 2.493. Meet honour with ancestral hymns, and cate 2.494. And dishes bear him; and the doomed goat 2.495. Led by the horn shall at the altar stand 2.496. Whose entrails rich on hazel-spits we'll roast. 2.497. This further task again, to dress the vine 2.498. Hath needs beyond exhausting; the whole soil 2.499. Thrice, four times, yearly must be cleft, the sod 2.500. With hoes reversed be crushed continually 2.501. The whole plantation lightened of its leaves. 2.502. Round on the labourer spins the wheel of toil 2.503. As on its own track rolls the circling year. 2.504. Soon as the vine her lingering leaves hath shed 2.505. And the chill north wind from the forests shook 2.506. Their coronal, even then the careful swain 2.507. Looks keenly forward to the coming year 2.508. With Saturn's curved fang pursues and prune 2.509. The vine forlorn, and lops it into shape. 2.510. Be first to dig the ground up, first to clear 2.511. And burn the refuse-branches, first to house 2.512. Again your vine-poles, last to gather fruit. 2.513. Twice doth the thickening shade beset the vine 2.514. Twice weeds with stifling briers o'ergrow the crop; 2.515. And each a toilsome labour. Do thou praise 2.516. Broad acres, farm but few. Rough twigs beside 2.517. of butcher's broom among the woods are cut 2.518. And reeds upon the river-banks, and still 2.519. The undressed willow claims thy fostering care. 2.520. So now the vines are fettered, now the tree 2.521. Let go the sickle, and the last dresser now 2.522. Sings of his finished rows; but still the ground 2.523. Must vexed be, the dust be stirred, and heaven 2.524. Still set thee trembling for the ripened grapes. 2.525. Not so with olives; small husbandry need they 2.526. Nor look for sickle bowed or biting rake 2.527. When once they have gripped the soil, and borne the breeze. 2.528. Earth of herself, with hooked fang laid bare 2.529. Yields moisture for the plants, and heavy fruit 2.530. The ploughshare aiding; therewithal thou'lt rear 2.531. The olive's fatness well-beloved of Peace. 2.532. Apples, moreover, soon as first they feel 2.533. Their stems wax lusty, and have found their strength 2.534. To heaven climb swiftly, self-impelled, nor crave 2.535. Our succour. All the grove meanwhile no le 2.536. With fruit is swelling, and the wild haunts of bird 2.537. Blush with their blood-red berries. Cytisu 2.538. Is good to browse on, the tall forest yield 2.539. Pine-torches, and the nightly fires are fed 2.540. And shoot forth radiance. And shall men be loath 2.541. To plant, nor lavish of their pains? Why trace 2.542. Things mightier? Willows even and lowly broom 3.3. You, woods and waves Lycaean. All themes beside 3.4. Which else had charmed the vacant mind with song 3.5. Are now waxed common. of harsh Eurystheus who 3.6. The story knows not, or that praiseless king 3.7. Busiris, and his altars? or by whom 3.8. Hath not the tale been told of Hylas young 3.115. The heights of 3.116. Even him, when sore disease or sluggish eld 3.117. Now saps his strength, pen fast at home, and spare 3.258. Whether on steed or steer thy choice be set. 3.259. Ay, therefore 'tis they banish bulls afar 3.260. To solitary pastures, or behind 3.261. Some mountain-barrier, or broad streams beyond 3.262. Or else in plenteous stalls pen fast at home. 3.263. For, even through sight of her, the female waste 3.266. With her sweet charms can lovers proud compel 3.267. To battle for the conquest horn to horn. 3.268. In Sila's forest feeds the heifer fair 3.339. Not toward thy rising, Eurus, or the sun's 3.340. But westward and north-west, or whence up-spring 3.341. Black Auster, that glooms heaven with rainy cold. 3.342. Hence from their groin slow drips a poisonous juice 3.343. By shepherds truly named hippomanes 3.344. Hippomanes, fell stepdames oft have culled 3.345. And mixed with herbs and spells of baneful bode. 3.346. Fast flies meanwhile the irreparable hour 3.347. As point to point our charmed round we trace. 3.348. Enough of herds. This second task remains 3.349. The wool-clad flocks and shaggy goats to treat. 3.350. Here lies a labour; hence for glory look 3.351. Brave husbandmen. Nor doubtfully know 3.352. How hard it is for words to triumph here 3.353. And shed their lustre on a theme so slight: 3.354. But I am caught by ravishing desire 3.355. Above the lone Parnassian steep; I love 3.356. To walk the heights, from whence no earlier track 3.357. Slopes gently downward to Castalia's spring. 3.358. Now, awful Pales, strike a louder tone. 3.359. First, for the sheep soft pencotes I decree 3.360. To browse in, till green summer's swift return; 3.361. And that the hard earth under them with straw 3.362. And handfuls of the fern be littered deep 3.363. Lest chill of ice such tender cattle harm 3.364. With scab and loathly foot-rot. Passing thence 3.365. I bid the goats with arbute-leaves be stored 3.366. And served with fresh spring-water, and their pen 3.367. Turned southward from the blast, to face the sun 3.368. of winter, when Aquarius' icy beam 3.369. Now sinks in showers upon the parting year. 3.370. These too no lightlier our protection claim 3.371. Nor prove of poorer service, howsoe'er 3.372. Milesian fleeces dipped in Tyrian red 3.373. Repay the barterer; these with offspring teem 3.374. More numerous; these yield plenteous store of milk: 3.375. The more each dry-wrung udder froths the pail 3.376. More copious soon the teat-pressed torrents flow. 3.377. Ay, and on Cinyps' bank the he-goats too 3.378. Their beards and grizzled chins and bristling hair 3.379. Let clip for camp-use, or as rugs to wrap 3.380. Seafaring wretches. But they browse the wood 3.381. And summits of Lycaeus, and rough briers 3.382. And brakes that love the highland: of themselve 3.383. Right heedfully the she-goats homeward troop 3.478. Many there be who from their mothers keep 3.479. The new-born kids, and straightway bind their mouth 3.480. With iron-tipped muzzles. What they milk at dawn 3.481. Or in the daylight hours, at night they press; 3.482. What darkling or at sunset, this ere morn 3.483. They bear away in baskets—for to town 3.484. The shepherd hies him—or with dash of salt 3.485. Just sprinkle, and lay by for winter use. 3.486. Nor be thy dogs last cared for; but alike 3.487. Swift Spartan hounds and fierce Molossian feed 3.488. On fattening whey. Never, with these to watch 3.489. Dread nightly thief afold and ravening wolves 3.490. Or Spanish desperadoes in the rear. 3.491. And oft the shy wild asses thou wilt chase 3.492. With hounds, too, hunt the hare, with hounds the doe; 3.493. oft from his woodland wallowing-den uprouse 3.494. The boar, and scare him with their baying, and drive 3.495. And o'er the mountains urge into the toil 3.496. Some antlered monster to their chiming cry. 3.497. Learn also scented cedar-wood to burn 3.498. Within the stalls, and snakes of noxious smell 3.499. With fumes of galbanum to drive away. 3.500. oft under long-neglected cribs, or lurk 3.501. A viper ill to handle, that hath fled 3.502. The light in terror, or some snake, that wont 3.503. 'Neath shade and sheltering roof to creep, and shower 3.504. Its bane among the cattle, hugs the ground 3.505. Fell scourge of kine. Shepherd, seize stakes, seize stones! 3.506. And as he rears defiance, and puffs out 3.507. A hissing throat, down with him! see how low 3.508. That cowering crest is vailed in flight, the while 3.509. His midmost coils and final sweep of tail 3.510. Relaxing, the last fold drags lingering spires. 3.511. Then that vile worm that in Calabrian glade 3.512. Uprears his breast, and wreathes a scaly back 3.513. His length of belly pied with mighty spots— 3.514. While from their founts gush any streams, while yet 3.515. With showers of Spring and rainy south-winds earth 3.516. Is moistened, lo! he haunts the pools, and here 3.517. Housed in the banks, with fish and chattering frog 3.518. Crams the black void of his insatiate maw. 3.519. Soon as the fens are parched, and earth with heat 3.520. Is gaping, forth he darts into the dry 3.521. Rolls eyes of fire and rages through the fields 3.522. Furious from thirst and by the drought dismayed. 3.523. Me list not then beneath the open heaven 3.524. To snatch soft slumber, nor on forest-ridge 3.525. Lie stretched along the grass, when, slipped his slough 3.526. To glittering youth transformed he winds his spires 3.527. And eggs or younglings leaving in his lair 3.528. Towers sunward, lightening with three-forked tongue. 3.529. of sickness, too, the causes and the sign 3.530. I'll teach thee. Loathly scab assails the sheep 3.531. When chilly showers have probed them to the quick 3.532. And winter stark with hoar-frost, or when sweat 3.533. Unpurged cleaves to them after shearing done 3.534. And rough thorns rend their bodies. Hence it i 3.535. Shepherds their whole flock steep in running streams 3.536. While, plunged beneath the flood, with drenched fell 3.537. The ram, launched free, goes drifting down the tide. 3.538. Else, having shorn, they smear their bodies o'er 3.539. With acrid oil-lees, and mix silver-scum 3.540. And native sulphur and Idaean pitch 3.541. Wax mollified with ointment, and therewith 3.542. Sea-leek, strong hellebores, bitumen black. 3.543. Yet ne'er doth kindlier fortune crown his toil 3.544. Than if with blade of iron a man dare lance 3.545. The ulcer's mouth ope: for the taint is fed 3.546. And quickened by confinement; while the swain 3.547. His hand of healing from the wound withholds 3.548. Or sits for happier signs imploring heaven. 3.549. Aye, and when inward to the bleater's bone 3.550. The pain hath sunk and rages, and their limb 3.551. By thirsty fever are consumed, 'tis good 3.552. To draw the enkindled heat therefrom, and pierce 3.553. Within the hoof-clefts a blood-bounding vein. 3.554. of tribes Bisaltic such the wonted use 3.555. And keen Gelonian, when to 3.556. He flies, or Getic desert, and quaffs milk 3.557. With horse-blood curdled. Seest one far afield 3.558. oft to the shade's mild covert win, or pull 3.559. The grass tops listlessly, or hindmost lag 3.560. Or, browsing, cast her down amid the plain 3.561. At night retire belated and alone; 3.562. With quick knife check the mischief, ere it creep 3.563. With dire contagion through the unwary herd. 3.564. Less thick and fast the whirlwind scours the main 3.565. With tempest in its wake, than swarm the plague 3.566. of cattle; nor seize they single lives alone 4.1. of air-born honey, gift of heaven, I now 4.2. Take up the tale. Upon this theme no le 4.3. Look thou, Maecenas, with indulgent eye. 4.4. A marvellous display of puny powers 4.5. High-hearted chiefs, a nation's history 4.6. Its traits, its bent, its battles and its clans 4.7. All, each, shall pass before you, while I sing. 4.8. Slight though the poet's theme, not slight the praise 4.9. So frown not heaven, and Phoebus hear his call. 4.10. First find your bees a settled sure abode 4.11. Where neither winds can enter (winds blow back 4.12. The foragers with food returning home) 4.13. Nor sheep and butting kids tread down the flowers 4.14. Nor heifer wandering wide upon the plain 4.15. Dash off the dew, and bruise the springing blades. 4.16. Let the gay lizard too keep far aloof 4.17. His scale-clad body from their honied stalls 4.18. And the bee-eater, and what birds beside 4.19. And Procne smirched with blood upon the breast 4.20. From her own murderous hands. For these roam wide 4.21. Wasting all substance, or the bees themselve 4.22. Strike flying, and in their beaks bear home, to glut 4.23. Those savage nestlings with the dainty prey. 4.24. But let clear springs and moss-green pools be near 4.25. And through the grass a streamlet hurrying run 4.26. Some palm-tree o'er the porch extend its shade 4.27. Or huge-grown oleaster, that in Spring 4.28. Their own sweet Spring-tide, when the new-made chief 4.29. Lead forth the young swarms, and, escaped their comb 4.30. The colony comes forth to sport and play 4.31. The neighbouring bank may lure them from the heat 4.32. Or bough befriend with hospitable shade. 4.33. O'er the mid-waters, whether swift or still 4.34. Cast willow-branches and big stones enow 4.35. Bridge after bridge, where they may footing find 4.36. And spread their wide wings to the summer sun 4.37. If haply Eurus, swooping as they pause 4.38. Have dashed with spray or plunged them in the deep. 4.39. And let green cassias and far-scented thymes 4.40. And savory with its heavy-laden breath 4.41. Bloom round about, and violet-beds hard by 4.42. Sip sweetness from the fertilizing springs. 4.43. For the hive's self, or stitched of hollow bark 4.44. Or from tough osier woven, let the door 4.45. Be strait of entrance; for stiff winter's cold 4.46. Congeals the honey, and heat resolves and thaws 4.47. To bees alike disastrous; not for naught 4.48. So haste they to cement the tiny pore 4.49. That pierce their walls, and fill the crevice 4.50. With pollen from the flowers, and glean and keep 4.59. But near their home let neither yew-tree grow 4.60. Nor reddening crabs be roasted, and mistrust 4.61. Deep marish-ground and mire with noisome smell 4.67. Forthwith they roam the glades and forests o'er 4.68. Rifle the painted flowers, or sip the streams 4.69. Light-hovering on the surface. Hence it i 4.70. With some sweet rapture, that we know not of 4.71. Their little ones they foster, hence with skill 4.72. Work out new wax or clinging honey mould. 4.73. So when the cage-escaped hosts you see 4.74. Float heavenward through the hot clear air, until 4.75. You marvel at yon dusky cloud that spread 4.76. And lengthens on the wind, then mark them well; 4.77. For then 'tis ever the fresh springs they seek 4.78. And bowery shelter: hither must you bring 4.79. The savoury sweets I bid, and sprinkle them 4.80. Bruised balsam and the wax-flower's lowly weed 4.81. And wake and shake the tinkling cymbals heard 4.82. By the great Mother: on the anointed spot 4.83. Themselves will settle, and in wonted wise 4.84. Seek of themselves the cradle's inmost depth. 4.85. But if to battle they have hied them forth— 4.86. For oft 'twixt king and king with uproar dire 4.87. Fierce feud arises, and at once from far 4.88. You may discern what passion sways the mob 4.89. And how their hearts are throbbing for the strife; 4.90. Hark! the hoarse brazen note that warriors know 4.91. Chides on the loiterers, and the ear may catch 4.92. A sound that mocks the war-trump's broken blasts; 4.93. Then in hot haste they muster, then flash wings 4.94. Sharpen their pointed beaks and knit their thews 4.95. And round the king, even to his royal tent 4.96. Throng rallying, and with shouts defy the foe. 4.97. So, when a dry Spring and clear space is given 4.98. Forth from the gates they burst, they clash on high; 4.99. A din arises; they are heaped and rolled 4.100. Into one mighty mass, and headlong fall 4.101. Not denselier hail through heaven, nor pelting so 4.102. Rains from the shaken oak its acorn-shower. 4.103. Conspicuous by their wings the chiefs themselve 4.104. Press through the heart of battle, and display 4.105. A giant's spirit in each pigmy frame 4.106. Steadfast no inch to yield till these or those 4.107. The victor's ponderous arm has turned to flight. 4.108. Such fiery passions and such fierce assault 4.109. A little sprinkled dust controls and quells. 4.110. And now, both leaders from the field recalled 4.111. Who hath the worser seeming, do to death 4.112. Lest royal waste wax burdensome, but let 4.113. His better lord it on the empty throne. 4.114. One with gold-burnished flakes will shine like fire 4.115. For twofold are their kinds, the nobler he 4.116. of peerless front and lit with flashing scales; 4.117. That other, from neglect and squalor foul 4.118. Drags slow a cumbrous belly. As with kings 4.119. So too with people, diverse is their mould 4.120. Some rough and loathly, as when the wayfarer 4.121. Scapes from a whirl of dust, and scorched with heat 4.122. Spits forth the dry grit from his parched mouth: 4.123. The others shine forth and flash with lightning-gleam 4.124. Their backs all blazoned with bright drops of gold 4.125. Symmetric: this the likelier breed; from these 4.126. When heaven brings round the season, thou shalt strain 4.127. Sweet honey, nor yet so sweet as passing clear 4.128. And mellowing on the tongue the wine-god's fire. 4.129. But when the swarms fly aimlessly abroad 4.130. Disport themselves in heaven and spurn their cells 4.131. Leaving the hive unwarmed, from such vain play 4.132. Must you refrain their volatile desires 4.133. Nor hard the task: tear off the monarchs' wings; 4.134. While these prove loiterers, none beside will dare 4.135. Mount heaven, or pluck the standards from the camp. 4.136. Let gardens with the breath of saffron flower 4.137. Allure them, and the lord of placeName key= 4.138. Priapus, wielder of the willow-scythe 4.139. Safe in his keeping hold from birds and thieves. 4.140. And let the man to whom such cares are dear 4.141. Himself bring thyme and pine-trees from the heights 4.142. And strew them in broad belts about their home; 4.143. No hand but his the blistering task should ply 4.144. Plant the young slips, or shed the genial showers. 4.145. And I myself, were I not even now 4.146. Furling my sails, and, nigh the journey's end 4.147. Eager to turn my vessel's prow to shore 4.148. Perchance would sing what careful husbandry 4.149. Makes the trim garden smile; of placeName key= 4.150. Whose roses bloom and fade and bloom again; 4.151. How endives glory in the streams they drink 4.152. And green banks in their parsley, and how the gourd 4.153. Twists through the grass and rounds him to paunch; 4.154. Nor of Narcissus had my lips been dumb 4.155. That loiterer of the flowers, nor supple-stemmed 4.156. Acanthus, with the praise of ivies pale 4.157. And myrtles clinging to the shores they love. 4.158. For 'neath the shade of tall Oebalia's towers 4.159. Where dark Galaesus laves the yellowing fields 4.160. An old man once I mind me to have seen— 4.161. From Corycus he came—to whom had fallen 4.162. Some few poor acres of neglected land 4.163. And they nor fruitful' neath the plodding steer 4.164. Meet for the grazing herd, nor good for vines. 4.165. Yet he, the while his meagre garden-herb 4.166. Among the thorns he planted, and all round 4.167. White lilies, vervains, and lean poppy set 4.168. In pride of spirit matched the wealth of kings 4.169. And home returning not till night was late 4.170. With unbought plenty heaped his board on high. 4.171. He was the first to cull the rose in spring 4.172. He the ripe fruits in autumn; and ere yet 4.173. Winter had ceased in sullen ire to rive 4.174. The rocks with frost, and with her icy bit 4.175. Curb in the running waters, there was he 4.176. Plucking the rathe faint hyacinth, while he chid 4.177. Summer's slow footsteps and the lagging West. 4.178. Therefore he too with earliest brooding bee 4.179. And their full swarms o'erflowed, and first was he 4.180. To press the bubbling honey from the comb; 4.181. Lime-trees were his, and many a branching pine; 4.182. And all the fruits wherewith in early bloom 4.183. The orchard-tree had clothed her, in full tale 4.184. Hung there, by mellowing autumn perfected. 4.185. He too transplanted tall-grown elms a-row 4.186. Time-toughened pear, thorns bursting with the plum 4.187. And plane now yielding serviceable shade 4.188. For dry lips to drink under: but these things 4.189. Shut off by rigorous limits, I pass by 4.190. And leave for others to sing after me. 4.191. Come, then, I will unfold the natural power 4.192. Great Jove himself upon the bees bestowed 4.193. The boon for which, led by the shrill sweet strain 4.194. of the Curetes and their clashing brass 4.195. They fed the King of heaven in Dicte's cave. 4.196. Alone of all things they receive and hold 4.197. Community of offspring, and they house 4.198. Together in one city, and beneath 4.199. The shelter of majestic laws they live; 4.200. And they alone fixed home and country know 4.201. And in the summer, warned of coming cold 4.202. Make proof of toil, and for the general store 4.203. Hoard up their gathered harvesting. For some 4.204. Watch o'er the victualling of the hive, and these 4.205. By settled order ply their tasks afield; 4.206. And some within the confines of their home 4.207. Plant firm the comb's first layer, Narcissus' tear 4.208. And sticky gum oozed from the bark of trees 4.209. Then set the clinging wax to hang therefrom. 4.210. Others the while lead forth the full-grown young 4.211. Their country's hope, and others press and pack 4.212. The thrice repured honey, and stretch their cell 4.213. To bursting with the clear-strained nectar sweet. 4.214. Some, too, the wardship of the gates befalls 4.215. Who watch in turn for showers and cloudy skies 4.217. Or form a band and from their precincts drive 4.218. The drones, a lazy herd. How glows the work! 4.559. With a great cry leapt on him, and ere he rose 4.560. Forestalled him with the fetters; he nathless 4.561. All unforgetful of his ancient craft 4.562. Transforms himself to every wondrous thing 4.563. Fire and a fearful beast, and flowing stream. 4.564. But when no trickery found a path for flight 4.565. Baffled at length, to his own shape returned 4.566. With human lips he spake, “Who bade thee, then |
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31. Columella, De Re Rustica, 3.21.4 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
3.21.4. Sed haec quamvis plurimum delectent, note target= | 3.21.4. But though all these give the greatest delight, still profit prevails over pleasure. For the head of the household comes down the more willingly to feast his eyes upon his wealth in proportion to its splendour; and, as the poet says of the sacred deity, Wheresoever the god has turned his goodly head, truly, whatever the person and eyes of the master are frequent visitors, there the fruit abounds in richer measure. But, dismissing this statement, which is applicable also to vines not grouped according to their kinds, I shall proceed with those matters which are most deserving of notice. |
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32. Epictetus, Discourses, 1.6.32-1.6.36, 1.24.1-1.24.2 (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
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33. Seneca The Younger, Letters, 50.9, 90.7-90.14, 90.16, 90.18-90.19, 90.22, 90.24-90.26 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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34. Seneca The Younger, Medea, 339, 364-379, 338 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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35. Seneca The Younger, Phaedra, 484-503, 517-520, 522-525, 483 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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36. Tacitus, Annals, 3.28 (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 3.28. Then came Pompey's third consulate. But this chosen reformer of society, operating with remedies more disastrous than the abuses, this maker and breaker of his own enactments, lost by the sword what he was holding by the sword. The followed twenty crowded years of discord, during which law and custom ceased to exist: villainy was immune, decency not rarely a sentence of death. At last, in his sixth consulate, Augustus Caesar, feeling his power secure, cancelled the behests of his triumvirate, and presented us with laws to serve our needs in peace and under a prince. Thenceforward the fetters were tightened: sentries were set over us and, under the Papia-Poppaean law, lured on by rewards; so that, if a man shirked the privileges of paternity, the state, as universal parent, might step into the vacant inheritance. But they pressed their activities too far: the capital, Italy, every corner of the Roman world, had suffered from their attacks, and the positions of many had been wholly ruined. Indeed, a reign of terror was threatened, when Tiberius, for the fixing of a remedy, chose by lot five former consuls, five former praetors, and an equal number of ordinary senators: a body which, by untying many of the legal knots, gave for the time a measure of relief. |
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37. Valerius Flaccus Gaius, Argonautica, 1.91-1.95, 1.194-1.204, 1.246-1.247, 1.498-1.573, 1.597-1.607, 1.642-1.650 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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38. Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.1.6 (2nd cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 8.1.6. But he introduced as food the nuts of trees, not those of all trees but only the acorns of the edible oak. Some people have followed this diet so closely since the time of Pelasgus that even the Pythian priestess, when she forbade the Lacedaemonians to touch the land of the Arcadians, uttered the following verses:— In Arcadia are many men who eat acorns, Who will prevent you; though I do not grudge it you. It is said that it was in the reign of Pelasgus that the land was called Pelasgia. |
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39. Porphyry, On Abstinence, 4.2 (3rd cent. CE - 4th cent. CE)
| 4.2. 2.But we shall begin from the abstinence of certain nations, in the narration of which, what is asserted of the Greeks will first claim our attention, as being the most allied to us, and the most appropriate of all the witnesses that can be adduced. Among those, therefore, that have concisely, and at the same time accurately collected an account of the affairs of the Greeks, is the Peripatetic Dicaearchus 1, who, in narrating the pristine life of the Greeks, says, the ancients, being generated with an alliance to the Gods, were naturally most excellent, and led the best life; so that, when compared to us of the present day, who consist of an adulterated and most vile matter, they were thought to be a golden race; and they slew no animal whatever. The truth of this, he also says, is testified by the poets, who denominate these ancients the golden race, and assert that every good was present with them. The fertile earth for them spontaneous bore of fruits a copious and unenvy'd store; In blissful quiet then, unknown to strife, The worthy with the worthy passed their life 2. |111 Which assertions, indeed Dicaearchus explaining, says, that a life of this kind was under Saturn; if it is proper to consider it as a thing that once existed, and that it is a life which has not been celebrated in vain, and if, laying aside what is extremely fabulous, we may refer it to a physical narration. All things, therefore, are very properly said to have been then spontaneously produced; for men did not procure any thing by labour, because they were unacquainted with the agricultural art, and, in short, had no knowledge of any other art. This very thing, likewise, was the cause of their leading a life of leisure, free from labours and care; and if it is proper to assent to the decision of the most skilful and elegant of physicians, it was also the cause of their being liberated from disease. For there is not any precept of physicians which more contributes to health, than that which exhorts us not to make an abundance of excrement, from which those pristine Greeks always preserved their bodies pure. For they neither assumed such food as was stronger than the nature of the body could bear, but such as could be vanquished by the corporeal nature, nor more than was moderate, on account of the facility of procuring it, but for the most part less than was sufficient, on account of its paucity. Moreover, there were neither any wars among them, nor seditions with each other. For no reward of contention worth mentioning was proposed as an incentive, for the sake of which some one might be induced to engage in such dissensions. So that the principal thing in that life was leisure and rest from necessary occupations, together with health, peace, and friendship. But to those in after times, who, through aspiring after things which greatly exceeded mediocrity, fell into many evils, this pristine life became, as it was reasonable to suppose it would, desirable. The slender and extemporaneous food, however, of these first men, is manifested by the saying which was afterwards proverbially used, enough of the oak; this adage being probably introduced by him who first changed the ancient mode of living. A pastoral life succeeded to this, in which men procured for themselves superfluous possessions, and meddled with animals. For, perceiving that some of them were innoxious, but others malefic and savage, they tamed the former, but attacked the latter. At the same time, together with this life, war was introduced. And these things, says Dicaearchus, are not asserted by us, but by those who have historically discussed a multitude of particulars. For, as possessions were now of such a magnitude as to merit attention, some ambitiously endeavoured to obtain them, by collecting them [for their own use], and calling on others to do the same, but others directed their attention to the preservation of them when collected. Time, therefore, thus gradually proceeding, and men always directing their attention to what |112 appeared to be useful, they at length became conversant with the third, and agricultural form of life. And this is what is said by Dicaearchus, in his narration of the manners of the ancient Greeks, and the blessed life which they then led, to which abstinence from animal food contributed, no less than other things. Hence, at that period there was no war, because injustice was exterminated. But afterwards, together with injustice towards animals, war was introduced among men, and the endeavour to surpass each other in amplitude of possessions. On which account also, the audacity of those is wonderful, who say that abstinence from animals is the mother of injustice, since both history and experience testify, that together with the slaughter of animals, war and injustice were introduced. SPAN |
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40. Macrobius, Saturnalia, 3.9.9-3.9.11 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
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41. Macrobius, Saturnalia, 3.9.9-3.9.11 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
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42. Servius, In Vergilii Georgicon Libros, 1.7 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
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43. Bacchylides, Odes, 5.177
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44. Epicurus, Letters, 116, 115
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45. Epicurus, Letters, 116, 115
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46. Manilius, Astronomica, 1.61
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