3. Vergil, Georgics, 1.47, 1.50, 1.53, 1.60-1.63, 1.74, 1.84-1.93, 1.100, 1.118-1.160, 1.163, 1.168, 1.176-1.186, 1.197-1.207, 1.218, 1.229, 1.233-1.249, 1.257, 1.276-1.283, 1.292-1.294, 1.299, 1.316-1.334, 1.337-1.339 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.47. For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king 1.50. Elysium's fields, and Proserpine not heed 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 1.84. 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 1.100. With refuse rich to soak the thirsty soil 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 1.125. Ye husbandmen; in winter's dust the crop 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 1.163. He to black serpents gave their venom-bane 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 1.276. 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 1.292. 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 |
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