1. Hesiod, Works And Days, 203-212, 202 (8th cent. BCE - 7th cent. BCE)
| 202. Might will be right and shame shall cease to be |
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2. Thucydides, The History of The Peloponnesian War, 2.49 (5th cent. BCE - 4th cent. BCE)
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3. Cicero, De Finibus, 3.63-3.64 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 3.63. From this impulse is developed the sense of mutual attraction which unites human beings as such; this also is bestowed by nature. The mere fact of their common humanity requires that one man should feel another man to be akin to him. For just as some of the parts of the body, such as the eyes and the ears, are created as it were for their own sakes, while others like the legs or the hands also subserve the utility of the rest of the members, so some very large animals are born for themselves alone; whereas the seaâpen, as it is called, in its roomy shell, and the creature named the 'pinoteres' because it keeps watch over the seaâpen, which swims out of the seaâpen's shell, then retires back into it and is shut up inside, thus appearing to have warned its host to be on its guard â these creatures, and also the ant, the bee, the stork, do certain actions for the sake of others besides themselves. With human beings this bond of mutual aid is far more intimate. It follows that we are by nature fitted to form unions, societies and states. 3.64. "Again, they hold that the universe is governed by divine will; it is a city or state of which both men and gods are members, and each one of us is a part of this universe; from which it is a natural consequence that we should prefer the common advantage to our own. For just as the laws set the safety of all above the safety of individuals, so a good, wise and lawâabiding man, conscious of his duty to the state, studies the advantage of all more than that of himself or of any single individual. The traitor to his country does not deserve greater reprobation than the man who betrays the common advantage or security for the sake of his own advantage or security. This explains why praise is owed to one who dies for the commonwealth, because it becomes us to love our country more than ourselves. And as we feel it wicked and inhuman for men to declare (the saying is usually expressed in a familiar Greek line) that they care not if, when they themselves are dead, the universal conflagration ensues, it is undoubtedly true that we are bound to study the interest of posterity also for its own sake. |
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4. Cicero, On The Ends of Good And Evil, 3.63-3.64 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 3.63. ex hoc nascitur ut etiam etiam ut BE communis hominum inter homines naturalis sit commendatio, ut oporteat hominem ab homine ob id ipsum, quod homo sit, non alienum videri. ut enim in membris alia sunt sunt N 2 sint tamquam sibi nata, ut oculi, ut aures, alia alia Marsus aliqua ARN aliaque BE reliqua V etiam ceterorum membrorum usum adiuvant, ut crura, ut manus, sic inmanes quaedam bestiae bestie quedam BE sibi solum natae sunt, at illa, quae in concha patula pina dicitur, isque, qui enat e concha, qui, quod eam custodit, pinoteres vocatur in eandemque in eandemque BE in eamque cum se recepit recepit cod. Glogav. recipit includitur, ut videatur monuisse ut caveret, itemque formicae, apes, ciconiae aliorum etiam causa quaedam faciunt. multo haec coniunctius homines. coniunctius homines Mdv. coniunctio est hominis itaque natura sumus apti ad coetus, concilia, consilia Non. civitatis Non. RV civitates. itaque ... civitatis ( v. 18 ) Non. p. 234 3.64. mundum autem censent regi numine deorum, eumque esse quasi communem urbem et civitatem hominum et deorum, et unum quemque nostrum eius mundi esse partem; ex quo illud natura consequi, ut communem utilitatem nostrae anteponamus. ut enim leges omnium salutem singulorum saluti anteponunt, sic vir bonus et sapiens et legibus parens et civilis officii non ignarus utilitati omnium plus quam unius alicuius aut suae consulit. nec magis est vituperandus proditor patriae quam communis utilitatis aut salutis desertor propter suam utilitatem aut salutem. ex quo fit, ut laudandus is sit, qui mortem oppetat pro re publica, quod deceat deceat dett. doceat ( in A ab ead. m. corr. ex diceat) cariorem nobis esse patriam quam nosmet ipsos. quoniamque quoniamque quēque R illa vox inhumana et scelerata ducitur eorum, qui negant se recusare quo minus ipsis mortuis terrarum omnium deflagratio consequatur—quod vulgari quodam versu Graeco pronuntiari solet—, certe verum est etiam iis, qui aliquando futuri sint, esse propter ipsos consulendum. | 3.63. From this impulse is developed the sense of mutual attraction which unites human beings as such; this also is bestowed by nature. The mere fact of their common humanity requires that one man should feel another man to be akin to him. For just as some of the parts of the body, such as the eyes and the ears, are created as it were for their own sakes, while others like the legs or the hands also subserve the utility of the rest of the members, so some very large animals are born for themselves alone; whereas the seaâpen, as it is called, in its roomy shell, and the creature named the 'pinoteres' because it keeps watch over the seaâpen, which swims out of the seaâpen's shell, then retires back into it and is shut up inside, thus appearing to have warned its host to be on its guard â these creatures, and also the ant, the bee, the stork, do certain actions for the sake of others besides themselves. With human beings this bond of mutual aid is far more intimate. It follows that we are by nature fitted to form unions, societies and states. 3.64. "Again, they hold that the universe is governed by divine will; it is a city or state of which both men and gods are members, and each one of us is a part of this universe; from which it is a natural consequence that we should prefer the common advantage to our own. For just as the laws set the safety of all above the safety of individuals, so a good, wise and lawâabiding man, conscious of his duty to the state, studies the advantage of all more than that of himself or of any single individual. The traitor to his country does not deserve greater reprobation than the man who betrays the common advantage or security for the sake of his own advantage or security. This explains why praise is owed to one who dies for the commonwealth, because it becomes us to love our country more than ourselves. And as we feel it wicked and inhuman for men to declare (the saying is usually expressed in a familiar Greek line) that they care not if, when they themselves are dead, the universal conflagration ensues, it is undoubtedly true that we are bound to study the interest of posterity also for its own sake. |
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5. Cicero, On Duties, 1.49-1.58, 3.27-3.28 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.49. Acceptorum autem beneficiorum sunt dilectus habendi, nec dubium, quin maximo cuique plurimum debeatur. In quo tamen in primis, quo quisque animo, studio, benivolentia fecerit, ponderandum est. Multi enim faciunt multa temeritate quadam sine iudicio vel morbo in omnes vel repentino quodam quasi vento impetu animi incitati; quae beneficia aeque magna non sunt habenda atque ea, quae iudicio, considerate constanterque delata sunt. Sed in collocando beneficio et in referenda gratia, si cetera paria sunt, hoc maxime officii est, ut quisque maxime opis indigeat, ita ei potissimum opitulari; quod contra fit a plerisque; a quo enim plurimum sperant, etiamsi ille iis non eget, tamen ei potissimum inserviunt. 1.50. Optime autem societas hominum coniunctioque servabitur, si, ut quisque erit coniunctissimus, ita in eum benignitatis plurimum conferetur. Sed, quae naturae principia sint communitatis et societatis humanae, repetendum videtur altius; est enim primum, quod cernitur in universi generis humani societate. Eius autem vinculum est ratio et oratio, quae docendo, discendo, communicando, disceptando, iudicando conciliat inter se homines coniungitque naturali quadam societate; neque ulla re longius absumus a natura ferarum, in quibus inesse fortitudinem saepe dicimus, ut in equis, in leonibus, iustitiam, aequitatem, bonitatem non dicimus; sunt enim rationis et orationis expertes. 1.51. Ac latissime quidem patens hominibus inter ipsos, omnibus inter omnes societas haec est; in qua omnium rerum, quas ad communem hominum usum natura genuit, est servanda communitas, ut, quae discripta sunt legibus et iure civili, haec ita teneantur, ut sit constitutum legibus ipsis, cetera sic observentur, ut in Graecorum proverbio est, amicorum esse communia omnia. Omnium autem communia hominum videntur ea, quae sunt generis eius, quod ab Ennio positum in una re transferri in permultas potest: Homó, qui erranti cómiter monstrát viam, Quasi lúmen de suo lúmine accendát, facit. Nihiló minus ipsi lúcet, cum illi accénderit. Una ex re satis praecipit, ut, quicquid sine detrimento commodari possit, id tribuatur vel ignoto; 1.52. ex quo sunt illa communia: non prohibere aqua profluente, pati ab igne ignem capere, si qui velit, consilium fidele deliberanti dare, quae sunt iis utilia, qui accipiunt, danti non molesta. Quare et his utendum est et semper aliquid ad communem utilitatem afferendum. Sed quoniam copiae parvae singulorum sunt, eorum autem, qui his egeant, infinita est multitudo, vulgaris liberalitas referenda est ad illum Ennii finem: Nihilo minus ipsi lucet, ut facultas sit, qua in nostros simus liberales. 1.53. Gradus autem plures sunt societatis hominum. Ut enim ab illa infinita discedatur, propior est eiusdem gentis, nationis, linguae, qua maxime homines coniunguntur; interius etiam est eiusdem esse civitatis; multa enim sunt civibus inter se communia, forum, fana, porticus, viae, leges, iura: iudicia, suffragia, consuetudines praeterea et familiaritates multisque cum multis res rationesque contractae. Artior vero colligatio est societatis propinquorum; ab illa enim immensa societate humani generis in exiguum angustumque concluditur. 1.54. Nam cum sit hoc natura commune animantium, ut habeant libidinem procreandi, prima societas in ipso coniugio est, proxima in liberis, deinde una domus, communia omnia; id autem est principium urbis et quasi seminarium rei publicae. Sequuntur fratrum coniunctiones, post consobrinorum sobrinorumque, qui cum una domo iam capi non possint, in alias domos tamquam in colonias exeunt. Sequuntur conubia et affinitates, ex quibus etiam plures propinqui; quae propagatio et suboles origo est rerum publicarum. Sanguinis autem coniunctio et benivolentia devincit homines et caritate; 1.55. magnum est enim eadem habere monumenta maiorum, eisdem uti sacris, sepulcra habere communia. Sed omnium societatum nulla praestantior est, nulla firmior, quam cum viri boni moribus similes sunt familiaritate coniuncti; illud enim honestum quod saepe dicimus, etiam si in alio cernimus, tamen nos movet atque illi, in quo id inesse videtur, amicos facit. 1.56. Et quamquam omnis virtus nos ad se allicit facitque, ut eos diligamus, in quibus ipsa inesse videatur, tamen iustitia et liberalitas id maxime efficit. Nihil autem est amabilius nec copulatius quam morum similitudo bonorum; in quibus enim eadem studia sunt, eaedem voluntates, in iis fit ut aeque quisque altero delectetur ac se ipso, efficiturque id, quod Pythagoras vult in amicitia, ut unus fiat ex pluribus. Magna etiam illa communitas est, quae conficitur ex beneficiis ultro et citro datis acceptis, quae et mutua et grata dum sunt, inter quos ea sunt, firma devinciuntur societate. 1.57. Sed cum omnia ratione animoque lustraris, omnium societatum nulla est gravior, nulla carior quam ea, quae cum re publica est uni cuique nostrum. Cari sunt parentes, cari liberi, propinqui, familiars, sed omnes omnium caritates patria una complexa est, pro qua quis bonus dubitet mortem oppetere, si ei sit profuturus? Quo est detestabilior istorum immanitas, qui lacerarunt omni scelere patriam et in ea funditus delenda occupati et sunt et fuerunt. 1.58. Sed si contentio quaedam et comparatio fiat, quibus plurimum tribuendum sit officii, principes sint patria et parentes, quorum beneficiis maximis obligati sumus,proximi liberi totaque domus, quae spectat in nos solos neque aliud ullum potest habere perfugium, deinceps bene convenientes propinqui, quibuscum communis etiam fortuna plerumque est. Quam ob rem necessaria praesidia vitae debentur iis maxime, quos ante dixi, vita autem victusque communis, consilia, sermones, cohortationes, consolationes, interdum etiam obiurgationes in amicitiis vigent maxime, estque ea iucundissima amicitia, quam similitudo morum coniugavit. 3.27. Atque etiam, si hoc natura praescribit, ut homo homini, quicumque sit, ob eam ipsam causam, quod is homo sit, consultum velit, necesse est secundum eandem naturam omnium utilitatem esse communem. Quod si ita est, una continemur omnes et eadem lege naturae, idque ipsum si ita est, certe violare alterum naturae lege prohibemur. Verum autem primum; verum igitur extremum. 3.28. Nam illud quidem absurdum est, quod quidam dicunt, parenti se aut fratri nihil detracturos sui commodi causa, aliam rationem esse civium reliquorum. Hi sibi nihil iuris, nullam societatem communis utilitatis causa statuunt esse cum civibus, quae sententia omnem societatem distrahit civitatis. Qui autem civium rationem dicunt habendam, externorum negant, ii dirimunt communem humani generis societatem; qua sublata beneficentia, liberalitas, bonitas, iustitia funditus tollitur; quae qui tollunt, etiam adversus deos immortales impii iudicandi sunt. Ab iis enim constitutam inter homines societatem evertunt, cuius societatis artissimum vinculum est magis arbitrari esse contra naturam hominem homini detrahere sui commodi causa quam omnia incommoda subire vel externa vel corporis vel etiam ipsius animi, quae vacent iustitia; haec enim una virtus omnium est domina et regina virtutum. | 1.49. Furthermore, we must make some discrimination between favours received; for, as a matter of course the greater the favour, the greater is the obligation. But in deciding this we must above all give due weight to the spirit, the devotion, the affection that prompted the favour. For many people often do favours impulsively for everybody without discrimination, prompted by a morbid sort of benevolence or by a sudden impulse of the heart, shifting the wind. Such acts of generosity are not to be so highly esteemed as those which are performed with judgment, deliberation, and mature consideration. But in bestowing a kindness, as well as in making a requital, the first rule of duty requires us â other things being equal â to lend assistance preferably to people in proportion to their individual need. Most people adopt the contrary course: they put themselves most eagerly at the service of the one from whom they hope to receive the greatest favours even though he has no need of their help. 1.50. The interests of society, however, and its common bonds will be best conserved, if kindness be shown to each individual in proportion to the closeness of his relationship. But it seems we must trace back to their ultimate sources the principles of fellowship and society that Nature has established among men. The first principle is that which is found in the connection subsisting between all the members of the human race; and that bond of connection is reason and speech, which by the processes of teaching and learning, of communicating, discussing, and reasoning associate men together and unite them in a sort of natural fraternity. In no other particular are we farther removed from the nature of beasts; for we admit that they may have courage (horses and lions, for example); but we do not admit that they have justice, equity, and goodness; for they are not endowed with reason or speech. 1.51. This, then, is the most comprehensive bond that unites together men as men and all to all; and under it the common right to all things that Nature has produced for the common use of man is to be maintained, with the understanding that, while everything assigned as private property by the statutes and by civil law shall be so held as prescribed by those same laws, everything else shall be regarded in the light indicated by the Greek proverb: "Amongst friends all things in common." Furthermore, we find the common property of all men in things of the sort defined by Ennius; and, though restricted by him to one instance, the principle may be applied very generally: "Who kindly sets a wand'rer on his way Does e'en as if he lit another's lamp by his: No less shines his, when he his friend's hath lit." In this example he effectively teaches us all to bestow even upon a stranger what it costs us nothing to give. 1.52. On this principle we have the following maxims:"Deny no one the water that flows by;" "Let anyone who will take fire from our fire;" "Honest counsel give to one who is in doubt;" for such acts are useful to the recipient and cause the giver no loss. We should, therefore, adopt these principles and always be contributing something to the common weal. But since the resources of individuals are limited and the number of the needy is infinite, this spirit of universal liberality must be regulated according to that test of Ennius â "No less shines his" â in order that we may continue to have the means for being generous to our friends. 1.53. Then, too, there are a great many degrees of closeness or remoteness in human society. To proceed beyond the universal bond of our common humanity, there is the closer one of belonging to the same people, tribe, and tongue, by which men are very closely bound together; it is a still closer relation to be citizens of the same city-state; for fellow-citizens have much in common â forum, temples colonnades, streets, statutes, laws, courts, rights of suffrage, to say nothing of social and friendly circles and diverse business relations with many. But a still closer social union exists between kindred. Starting with that infinite bond of union of the human race in general, the conception is now confined to a small and narrow circle. 1.54. For since the reproductive instinct is by Nature's gift the common possession of all living creatures, the first bond of union is that between husband and wife; the next, that between parents and children; then we find one home, with everything in common. And this is the foundation of civil government, the nursery, as it were, of the state. Then follow the bonds between brothers and sisters, and next those of first and then of second cousins; and when they can no longer be sheltered under one roof, they go out into other homes, as into colonies. Then follow between these in turn, marriages and connections by marriage, and from these again a new stock of relations; and from this propagation and after-growth states have their beginnings. The bonds of common blood hold men fast through good-will and affection; 1.55. for it means much to share in common the same family traditions, the same forms of domestic worship, and the same ancestral tombs. But of all the bonds of fellowship, there is none more noble, none more powerful than when good men of congenial character are joined in intimate friendship; for really, if we discover in another that moral goodness on which I dwell so much, it attracts us and makes us friends to the one in whose character it seems to dwell. 1.56. And while every virtue attracts us and makes us love those who seem to possess it, still justice and generosity do so most of all. Nothing, moreover, is more conducive to love and intimacy than compatibility of character in good men; for when two people have the same ideals and the same tastes, it is a natural consequence that each loves the other as himself; and the result is, as Pythagoras requires of ideal friendship, that several are united in one. Another strong bond of fellowship is effected by mutual interchange of kind services; and as long as these kindnesses are mutual and acceptable, those between whom they are interchanged are united by the ties of an enduring intimacy. 1.57. But when with a rational spirit you have surveyed the whole field, there is no social relation among them all more close, none more close, none more dear than that which links each one of us with our country. Parents are dear; dear are children, relatives, friends; one native land embraces all our loves; and who that is true would hesitate to give his life for her, if by his death he could render her a service? So much the more execrable are those monsters who have torn their fatherland to pieces with every form of outrage and who are and have been engaged in compassing her utter destruction. 1.58. Now, if a contrast and comparison were to be made to find out where most of our moral obligation is due, country would come first, and parents; for their services have laid us under the heaviest obligation; next come children and the whole family, who look to us alone for support and can have no other protection; finally, our kinsmen, with whom we live on good terms and with whom, for the most part, our lot is one. All needful material assistance is, therefore, due first of all to those whom I have named; but intimate relationship of life and living, counsel, conversation, encouragement, comfort, and sometimes even reproof flourish best in friendships. And that friendship is sweetest which is cemented by congeniality of character. 3.27. And further, if Nature ordains that one man shall desire to promote the interests of a fellow-man, whoever he may be, just because he is a fellow-man, then it follows, in accordance with that same Nature, that there are interests that all men have in common. And, if this is true, we are all subject to one and the same law of Nature; and, if this also is true, we are certainly forbidden by Nature's law to wrong our neighbour. Now the first assumption is true; therefore the conclusion is likewise true. 3.28. For that is an absurd position which is taken by some people, who say that they will not rob a parent or a brother for their own gain, but that their relation to the rest of their fellow-citizens is quite another thing. Such people contend in essence that they are bound to their fellow-citizens by no mutual obligations, social ties, or common interests. This attitude demolishes the whole structure of civil society. Others again who say that regard should be had for the rights of fellow-citizens, but not of foreigners, would destroy the universal brotherhood of mankind; and, when this is annihilated, kindness, generosity, goodness, and justice must utterly perish; and those who work all this destruction must be considered as wickedly rebelling against the immortal gods. For they uproot the fellowship which the gods have established between human beings, and the closest bond of this fellowship is the conviction that it is more repugt to Nature for man to rob a fellow-man for his own gain than to endure all possible loss, whether to his property or to his person . . . or even to his very soul â so far as these losses are not concerned with justice; for this virtue is the sovereign mistress and queen of all the virtues. |
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6. Cicero, On Old Age, 56-61, 55 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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7. Lucretius Carus, On The Nature of Things, 1.64-1.76, 1.80-1.101, 1.250-1.261, 1.922-1.930, 2.24-2.29, 2.352-2.366, 2.705-2.706, 3.1070, 5.30, 5.901-5.906, 5.1208, 5.1211, 5.1452, 6.1-6.42, 6.1090-6.1093, 6.1138-6.1286 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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8. Seneca The Younger, Letters, 95.52 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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9. Seneca The Younger, Natural Questions, 3.27-3.30 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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10. Statius, Thebais, 10.166-10.167 (1st cent. CE - 1st cent. CE)
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11. Augustine, The City of God, 5.17-5.18, 16.17, 18.2, 18.20, 18.27, 19.26 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
| 5.17. For, as far as this life of mortals is concerned, which is spent and ended in a few days, what does it matter under whose government a dying man lives, if they who govern do not force him to impiety and iniquity? Did the Romans at all harm those nations, on whom, when subjugated, they imposed their laws, except in as far as that was accomplished with great slaughter in war? Now, had it been done with consent of the nations, it would have been done with greater success, but there would have been no glory of conquest, for neither did the Romans themselves live exempt from those laws which they imposed on others. Had this been done without Mars and Bellona, so that there should have been no place for victory, no one conquering where no one had fought, would not the condition of the Romans and of the other nations have been one and the same, especially if that had been done at once which afterwards was done most humanely and most acceptably, namely, the admission of all to the rights of Roman citizens who belonged to the Roman empire, and if that had been made the privilege of all which was formerly the privilege of a few, with this one condition, that the humbler class who had no lands of their own should live at the public expense - an alimentary impost, which would have been paid with a much better grace by them into the hands of good administrators of the republic, of which they were members, by their own hearty consent, than it would have been paid with had it to be extorted from them as conquered men? For I do not see what it makes for the safety, good morals, and certainly not for the dignity, of men, that some have conquered and others have been conquered, except that it yields them that most insane pomp of human glory, in which they have received their reward, who burned with excessive desire of it, and carried on most eager wars. For do not their lands pay tribute? Have they any privilege of learning what the others are not privileged to learn? Are there not many senators in the other countries who do not even know Rome by sight? Take away outward show, and what are all men after all but men? But even though the perversity of the age should permit that all the better men should be more highly honored than others, neither thus should human honor be held at a great price, for it is smoke which has no weight. But let us avail ourselves even in these things of the kindness of God. Let us consider how great things they despised, how great things they endured, what lusts they subdued for the sake of human glory, who merited that glory, as it were, in reward for such virtues; and let this be useful to us even in suppressing pride, so that, as that city in which it has been promised us to reign as far surpasses this one as heaven is distant from the earth, as eternal life surpasses temporal joy, solid glory empty praise, or the society of angels the society of mortals, or the glory of Him who made the sun and moon the light of the sun and moon, the citizens of so great a country may not seem to themselves to have done anything very great, if, in order to obtain it, they have done some good works or endured some evils, when those men for this terrestrial country already obtained, did such great things, suffered such great things. And especially are all these things to be considered, because the remission of sins which collects citizens to the celestial country has something in it to which a shadowy resemblance is found in that asylum of Romulus, whither escape from the punishment of all manner of crimes congregated that multitude with which the state was to be founded. 5.18. What great thing, therefore, is it for that eternal and celestial city to despise all the charms of this world, however pleasant, if for the sake of this terrestrial city Brutus could even put to death his son - a sacrifice which the heavenly city compels no one to make? But certainly it is more difficult to put to death one's sons, than to do what is required to be done for the heavenly country, even to distribute to the poor those things which were looked upon as things to be massed and laid up for one's children, or to let them go, if there arise any temptation which compels us to do so, for the sake of faith and righteousness. For it is not earthly riches which make us or our sons happy; for they must either be lost by us in our lifetime, or be possessed when we are dead, by whom we know not, or perhaps by whom we would not. But it is God who makes us happy, who is the true riches of minds. But of Brutus, even the poet who celebrates his praises testifies that it was the occasion of unhappiness to him that he slew his son, for he says, And call his own rebellious seed For menaced liberty to bleed. Unhappy father! howsoe'er The deed be judged by after days. But in the following verse he consoles him in his unhappiness, saying, His country's love shall all o'erbear. There are those two things, namely, liberty and the desire of human praise, which compelled the Romans to admirable deeds. If, therefore, for the liberty of dying men, and for the desire of human praise which is sought after by mortals, sons could be put to death by a father, what great thing is it, if, for the true liberty which has made us free from the dominion of sin, and death, and the devil - not through the desire of human praise, but through the earnest desire of fleeing men, not from King Tarquin, but from demons and the prince of the demons - we should, I do not say put to death our sons, but reckon among our sons Christ's poor ones? If, also, another Roman chief, surnamed Torquatus, slew his son, not because he fought against his country, but because, being challenged by an enemy, he through youthful impetuosity fought, though for his country, yet contrary to orders which he his father had given as general; and this he did, notwithstanding that his son was victorious, lest there should be more evil in the example of authority despised, than good in the glory of slaying an enemy - if, I say, Torquatus acted thus, wherefore should they boast themselves, who, for the laws of a celestial country, despise all earthly good things, which are loved far less than sons? If Furius Camillus, who was condemned by those who envied him, notwithstanding that he had thrown off from the necks of his countrymen the yoke of their most bitter enemies, the Veientes, again delivered his ungrateful country from the Gauls, because he had no other in which he could have better opportunities for living a life of glory - if Camillus did thus, why should he be extolled as having done some great thing, who, having, it may be, suffered in the church at the hands of carnal enemies most grievous and dishonoring injury, has not betaken himself to heretical enemies, or himself raised some heresy against her, but has rather defended her, as far as he was able, from the most pernicious perversity of heretics, since there is not another church, I say not in which one can live a life of glory, but in which eternal life can be obtained? If Mucius, in order that peace might be made with King Porsenna, who was pressing the Romans with a most grievous war, when he did not succeed in slaying Porsenna, but slew another by mistake for him, reached forth his right hand and laid it on a red-hot altar, saying that many such as he saw him to be had conspired for his destruction, so that Porsenna, terrified at his daring, and at the thought of a conspiracy of such as he, without any delay recalled all his warlike purposes, and made peace - if, I say, Mucius did this, who shall speak of his meritorious claims to the kingdom of heaven, if for it he may have given to the flames not one hand, but even his whole body, and that not by his own spontaneous act, but because he was persecuted by another? If Curtius, spurring on his steed, threw himself all armed into a precipitous gulf, obeying the oracles of their gods, which had commanded that the Romans should throw into that gulf the best thing which they possessed, and they could only understand thereby that, since they excelled in men and arms, the gods had commanded that an armed man should be cast headlong into that destruction - if he did this, shall we say that that man has done a great thing for the eternal city who may have died by a like death, not, however, precipitating himself spontaneously into a gulf, but having suffered this death at the hands of some enemy of his faith, more especially when he has received from his Lord, who is also King of his country, a more certain oracle, Fear not them who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul? Matthew 10:28 If the Decii dedicated themselves to death, consecrating themselves in a form of words, as it were, that falling, and pacifying by their blood the wrath of the gods, they might be the means of delivering the Roman army - if they did this, let not the holy martyrs carry themselves proudly, as though they had done some meritorious thing for a share in that country where are eternal life and felicity, if even to the shedding of their blood, loving not only the brethren for whom it was shed, but, according as had been commanded them, even their enemies by whom it was being shed, they have vied with one another in faith of love and love of faith. If Marcus Pulvillus, when engaged in dedicating a temple to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, received with such indifference the false intelligence which was brought to him of the death of his son, with the intention of so agitating him that he should go away, and thus the glory of dedicating the temple should fall to his colleague;- if he received that intelligence with such indifference that he even ordered that his son should be cast out unburied, the love of glory having overcome in his heart the grief of bereavement, how shall any one affirm that he had done a great thing for the preaching of the gospel, by which the citizens of the heavenly city are delivered from various errors and gathered together from various wanderings, to whom his Lord has said, when anxious about the burial of his father, Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead? Matthew 8:22 Regulus, in order not to break his oath, even with his most cruel enemies, returned to them from Rome itself, because (as he is said to have replied to the Romans when they wished to retain him) he could not have the dignity of an honorable citizen at Rome after having been a slave to the Africans, and the Carthaginians put him to death with the utmost tortures, because he had spoken against them in the senate. If Regulus acted thus, what tortures are not to be despised for the sake of good faith toward that country to whose beatitude faith itself leads? Or what will a man have rendered to the Lord for all He has bestowed upon him, if, for the faithfulness he owes to Him, he shall have suffered such things as Regulus suffered at the hands of his most ruthless enemies for the good faith which he owed to them? And how shall a Christian dare vaunt himself of his voluntary poverty, which he has chosen in order that during the pilgrimage of this life he may walk the more disencumbered on the way which leads to the country where the true riches are, even God Himself - how, I say, shall he vaunt himself for this, when he hears or reads that Lucius Valerius, who died when he was holding the office of consul, was so poor that his funeral expenses were paid with money collected by the people?- or when he hears that Quintius Cincinnatus, who, possessing only four acres of land, and cultivating them with his own hands, was taken from the plough to be made dictator, - an office more honorable even than that of consul - and that, after having won great glory by conquering the enemy, he preferred notwithstanding to continue in his poverty? Or how shall he boast of having done a great thing, who has not been prevailed upon by the offer of any reward of this world to renounce his connection with that heavenly and eternal country, when he hears that Fabricius could not be prevailed on to forsake the Roman city by the great gifts offered to him by Pyrrhus king of the Epirots, who promised him the fourth part of his kingdom, but preferred to abide there in his poverty as a private individual? For if, when their republic - that is, the interest of the people, the interest of the country, the common interest, - was most prosperous and wealthy, they themselves were so poor in their own houses, that one of them, who had already been twice a consul, was expelled from that senate of poor men by the censor, because he was discovered to possess ten pounds weight of silverplate - since, I say, those very men by whose triumphs the public treasury was enriched were so poor, ought not all Christians, who make common property of their riches with a far nobler purpose, even that (according to what is written in the Acts of the Apostles) they may distribute to each one according to his need, and that no one may say that anything is his own, but that all things may be their common possession, Acts 2:45 - ought they not to understand that they should not vaunt themselves, because they do that to obtain the society of angels, when those men did nearly the same thing to preserve the glory of the Romans? How could these, and whatever like things are found in the Roman history, have become so widely known, and have been proclaimed by so great a fame, had not the Roman empire, extending far and wide, been raised to its greatness by magnificent successes? Wherefore, through that empire, so extensive and of so long continuance, so illustrious and glorious also through the virtues of such great men, the reward which they sought was rendered to their earnest aspirations, and also examples are set before us, containing necessary admonition, in order that we may be stung with shame if we shall see that we have not held fast those virtues for the sake of the most glorious city of God, which are, in whatever way, resembled by those virtues which they held fast for the sake of the glory of a terrestrial city, and that, too, if we shall feel conscious that we have held them fast, we may not be lifted up with pride, because, as the apostle says, The sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be revealed in us. Romans 8:18 But so far as regards human and temporal glory, the lives of these ancient Romans were reckoned sufficiently worthy. Therefore, also, we see, in the light of that truth which, veiled in the Old Testament, is revealed in the New, namely, that it is not in view of terrestrial and temporal benefits, which divine providence grants promiscuously to good and evil, that God is to be worshipped, but in view of eternal life, everlasting gifts, and of the society of the heavenly city itself - in the light of this truth we see that the Jews were most righteously given as a trophy to the glory of the Romans; for we see that these Romans, who rested on earthly glory, and sought to obtain it by virtues, such as they were, conquered those who, in their great depravity, slew and rejected the giver of true glory, and of the eternal city. 16.17. During the same period there were three famous kingdoms of the nations, in which the city of the earth-born, that is, the society of men living according to man under the domination of the fallen angels, chiefly flourished, namely, the three kingdoms of Sicyon, Egypt, and Assyria. of these, Assyria was much the most powerful and sublime; for that king Ninus, son of Belus, had subdued the people of all Asia except India. By Asia I now mean not that part which is one province of this greater Asia, but what is called Universal Asia, which some set down as the half, but most as the third part of the whole world - the three being Asia, Europe, and Africa, thereby making an unequal division. For the part called Asia stretches from the south through the east even to the north; Europe from the north even to the west; and Africa from the west even to the south. Thus we see that two, Europe and Africa, contain one half of the world, and Asia alone the other half. And these two parts are made by the circumstance, that there enters between them from the ocean all the Mediterranean water, which makes this great sea of ours. So that, if you divide the world into two parts, the east and the west, Asia will be in the one, and Europe and Africa in the other. So that of the three kingdoms then famous, one, namely Sicyon, was not under the Assyrians, because it was in Europe; but as for Egypt, how could it fail to be subject to the empire which ruled all Asia with the single exception of India? In Assyria, therefore, the dominion of the impious city had the pre-eminence. Its head was Babylon - an earth-born city, most fitly named, for it means confusion. There Ninus reigned after the death of his father Belus, who first had reigned there sixty-five years. His son Ninus, who, on his father's death, succeeded to the kingdom, reigned fifty-two years, and had been king forty-three years when Abraham was born, which was about the 1200th year before Rome was founded, as it were another Babylon in the west. 18.2. The society of mortals spread abroad through the earth everywhere, and in the most diverse places, although bound together by a certain fellowship of our common nature, is yet for the most part divided against itself, and the strongest oppress the others, because all follow after their own interests and lusts, while what is longed for either suffices for none, or not for all, because it is not the very thing. For the vanquished succumb to the victorious, preferring any sort of peace and safety to freedom itself; so that they who chose to die rather than be slaves have been greatly wondered at. For in almost all nations the very voice of nature somehow proclaims, that those who happen to be conquered should choose rather to be subject to their conquerors than to be killed by all kinds of warlike destruction. This does not take place without the providence of God, in whose power it lies that any one either subdues or is subdued in war; that some are endowed with kingdoms, others made subject to kings. Now, among the very many kingdoms of the earth into which, by earthly interest or lust, society is divided (which we call by the general name of the city of this world), we see that two, settled and kept distinct from each other both in time and place, have grown far more famous than the rest, first that of the Assyrians, then that of the Romans. First came the one, then the other. The former arose in the east, and, immediately on its close, the latter in the west. I may speak of other kingdoms and other kings as appendages of these. Ninus, then, who succeeded his father Belus, the first king of Assyria, was already the second king of that kingdom when Abraham was born in the land of the Chaldees. There was also at that time a very small kingdom of Sicyon, with which, as from an ancient date, that most universally learned man Marcus Varro begins, in writing of the Roman race. For from these kings of Sicyon he passes to the Athenians, from them to the Latins, and from these to the Romans. Yet very little is related about these kingdoms, before the foundation of Rome, in comparison with that of Assyria. For although even Sallust, the Roman historian, admits that the Athenians were very famous in Greece, yet he thinks they were greater in fame than in fact. For in speaking of them he says, The deeds of the Athenians, as I think, were very great and magnificent, but yet somewhat less than reported by fame. But because writers of great genius arose among them, the deeds of the Athenians were celebrated throughout the world as very great. Thus the virtue of those who did them was held to be as great as men of transcendent genius could represent it to be by the power of laudatory words. This city also derived no small glory from literature and philosophy, the study of which chiefly flourished there. But as regards empire, none in the earliest times was greater than the Assyrian, or so widely extended. For when Ninus the son of Belus was king, he is reported to have subdued the whole of Asia, even to the boundaries of Libya, which as to number is called the third part, but as to size is found to be the half of the whole world. The Indians in the eastern regions were the only people over whom he did not reign; but after his death Semiramis his wife made war on them. Thus it came to pass that all the people and kings in those countries were subject to the kingdom and authority of the Assyrians, and did whatever they were commanded. Now Abraham was born in that kingdom among the Chaldees, in the time of Ninus. But since Grecian affairs are much better known to us than Assyrian, and those who have diligently investigated the antiquity of the Roman nation's origin have followed the order of time through the Greeks to the Latins, and from them to the Romans, who themselves are Latins, we ought on this account, where it is needful, to mention the Assyrian kings, that it may appear how Babylon, like a first Rome, ran its course along with the city of God, which is a stranger in this world. But the things proper for insertion in this work in comparing the two cities, that is, the earthly and heavenly, ought to be taken mostly from the Greek and Latin kingdoms, where Rome herself is like a second Babylon. At Abraham's birth, then, the second kings of Assyria and Sicyon respectively were Ninus and Europs, the first having been Belus and Ægialeus. But when God promised Abraham, on his departure from Babylonia, that he should become a great nation, and that in his seed all nations of the earth should be blessed, the Assyrians had their seventh king, the Sicyons their fifth; for the son of Ninus reigned among them after his mother Semiramis, who is said to have been put to death by him for attempting to defile him by incestuously lying with him. Some think that she founded Babylon, and indeed she may have founded it anew. But we have told, in the sixteenth book, when or by whom it was founded. Now the son of Ninus and Semiramis, who succeeded his mother in the kingdom, is also called Ninus by some, but by others Ninias, a patronymic word. Telexion then held the kingdom of the Sicyons. In his reign times were quiet and joyful to such a degree, that after his death they worshipped him as a god by offering sacrifices and by celebrating games, which are said to have been first instituted on this occasion. 18.20. While these kings reigned in the places mentioned, the period of the judges being ended, the kingdom of Israel next began with king Saul, when Samuel the prophet lived. At that date those Latin kings began who were surnamed Silvii, having that surname, in addition to their proper name, from their predecessor, that son of Æneas who was called Silvius; just as, long afterward, the successors of C sar Augustus were surnamed C sars. Saul being rejected, so that none of his issue should reign, on his death David succeeded him in the kingdom, after he had reigned forty years. Then the Athenians ceased to have kings after the death of Codrus, and began to have a magistracy to rule the republic. After David, who also reigned forty years, his son Solomon was king of Israel, who built that most noble temple of God at Jerusalem. In his time Alba was built among the Latins, from which thereafter the kings began to be styled kings not of the Latins, but of the Albans, although in the same Latium. Solomon was succeeded by his son Rehoboam, under whom that people was divided into two kingdoms, and its separate parts began to have separate kings. 18.27. In order that we may be able to consider these times, let us go back a little to earlier times. At the beginning of the book of the prophet Hosea, who is placed first of twelve, it is written, The word of the Lord which came to Hosea in the days of Uzziah, Jothan, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah. Hosea 1:1 Amos also writes that he prophesied in the days of Uzziah, and adds the name of Jeroboam king of Israel, who lived at the same time. Amos 1:1 Isaiah the son of Amos - either the above-named prophet, or, as is rather affirmed, another who was not a prophet, but was called by the same name - also puts at the head of his book these four kings named by Hosea, saying by way of preface that he prophesied in their days. Micah also names the same times as those of his prophecy, after the days of Uzziah; Micah 1:1 for he names the same three kings as Hosea named - Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah. We find from their own writings that these men prophesied contemporaneously. To these are added Jonah in the reign of Uzziah, and Joel in that of Jotham, who succeeded Uzziah. But we can find the date of these two prophets in the chronicles, not in their own writings, for they say nothing about it themselves. Now these days extend from Procas king of the Latins, or his predecessor Aventinus, down to Romulus king of the Romans, or even to the beginning of the reign of his successor Numa Pompilius. Hezekiah king of Judah certainly reigned till then. So that thus these fountains of prophecy, as I may call them, burst forth at once during those times when the Assyrian kingdom failed and the Roman began; so that, just as in the first period of the Assyrian kingdom Abraham arose, to whom the most distinct promises were made that all nations should be blessed in his seed, so at the beginning of the western Babylon, in the time of whose government Christ was to come in whom these promises were to be fulfilled, the oracles of the prophets were given not only in spoken but in written words, for a testimony that so great a thing should come to pass. For although the people of Israel hardly ever lacked prophets from the time when they began to have kings, these were only for their own use, not for that of the nations. But when the more manifestly prophetic Scripture began to be formed, which was to benefit the nations too, it was fitting that it should begin when this city was founded which was to rule the nations. 19.26. Wherefore, as the life of the flesh is the soul, so the blessed life of man is God, of whom the sacred writings of the Hebrews say, Blessed is the people whose God is the Lord. Miserable, therefore, is the people which is alienated from God. Yet even this people has a peace of its own which is not to be lightly esteemed, though, indeed, it shall not in the end enjoy it, because it makes no good use of it before the end. But it is our interest that it enjoy this peace meanwhile in this life; for as long as the two cities are commingled, we also enjoy the peace of Babylon. For from Babylon the people of God is so freed that it meanwhile sojourns in its company. And therefore the apostle also admonished the Church to pray for kings and those in authority, assigning as the reason, that we may live a quiet and tranquil life in all godliness and love. And the prophet Jeremiah, when predicting the captivity that was to befall the ancient people of God, and giving them the divine command to go obediently to Babylonia, and thus serve their God, counselled them also to pray for Babylonia, saying, In the peace thereof shall you have peace, Jeremiah 29:7 - the temporal peace which the good and the wicked together enjoy. |
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12. Orosius Paulus, Historiae Adversum Paganos, 3.3.2-3.3.3, 6.22.11 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
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13. Epicurus, Letter To Menoeceus, 133
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14. Epicurus, Kuriai Doxai, 2
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15. Vergil, Aeneis, 1.660, 1.673, 2.755, 4.2, 4.54, 4.68, 4.300, 4.376, 6.554-6.556, 7.355-7.356, 7.456-7.457, 7.550, 7.623
| 1.660. before their thirst or hunger could be stayed 1.673. with outspread palms. But her unswerving eyes 2.755. in mortal agony; a vision too 4.2. of love; and out of every pulsing vein 4.54. a love that makes thee glad? Hast thou no care 4.68. how far may not our Punic fame extend 4.300. hoot forth blind fire to terrify the soul 4.376. flowed purple from his shoulder, broidered fair 6.554. of souls of babes upon the threshold plaining; 6.555. Whom, ere they took their portion of sweet life 6.556. Dark Fate from nursing bosoms tore, and plunged 7.355. a courser swift and strong, in purple clad 7.356. and broidered housings gay; on every breast 7.456. he might on her whole house confusion pour. 7.457. Betwixt her smooth breast and her robe it wound 7.550. in sacred fillet bound, and garlanded |
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16. Vergil, Eclogues, 4.21-4.22, 5.60-5.61
| 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 5.60. in summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone 5.61. but with thy voice art thou, thrice happy boy |
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17. Vergil, Georgics, 1.86, 1.121, 1.125-1.135, 1.141-1.142, 1.145-1.146, 1.316-1.334, 1.338, 1.415-1.416, 1.427-1.435, 1.439, 1.446-1.447, 1.463-1.497, 1.501-1.502, 1.511, 2.103-2.108, 2.136, 2.140-2.142, 2.303-2.314, 2.323-2.345, 2.458-2.460, 2.467-2.482, 2.491-2.492, 2.514-2.516, 3.1-3.48, 3.77, 3.81-3.82, 3.95-3.100, 3.102, 3.215-3.216, 3.242-3.285, 3.289, 3.291-3.292, 3.343-3.344, 3.347-3.383, 3.440, 3.468-3.469, 3.475, 3.478-3.481, 3.483-3.566, 4.1-4.50, 4.59-4.61, 4.67-4.215, 4.217-4.218, 4.287-4.294, 4.315-4.566
| 1.86. With shallower trench uptilt it—'twill suffice; 1.121. And heaved its furrowy ridges, turns once more 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 1.141. First tops the furrows? Why of him who drain 1.142. The marsh-land's gathered ooze through soaking sand 1.145. Holds all the country, whence the hollow dyke 1.146. Sweat steaming vapour? 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. 1.338. Nay even on holy days some tasks to ply 1.415. Wields with red hand the levin; through all her bulk 1.416. Earth at the hurly quakes; the beasts are fled 1.427. Worship the Gods, and to great Ceres pay 1.428. Her yearly dues upon the happy sward 1.429. With sacrifice, anigh the utmost end 1.430. of winter, and when Spring begins to smile. 1.431. Then lambs are fat, and wines are mellowest then; 1.432. Then sleep is sweet, and dark the shadows fall 1.433. Upon the mountains. Let your rustic youth 1.434. To Ceres do obeisance, one and all; 1.435. And for her pleasure thou mix honeycomb 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 1.463. oft, too, when wind is toward, the stars thou'lt see 1.464. From heaven shoot headlong, and through murky night 1.465. Long trails of fire white-glistening in their wake 1.466. Or light chaff flit in air with fallen leaves 1.467. Or feathers on the wave-top float and play. 1.468. But when from regions of the furious North 1.469. It lightens, and when thunder fills the hall 1.470. of Eurus and of Zephyr, all the field 1.471. With brimming dikes are flooded, and at sea 1.472. No mariner but furls his dripping sails. 1.473. Never at unawares did shower annoy: 1.474. Or, as it rises, the high-soaring crane 1.475. Flee to the vales before it, with face 1.476. Upturned to heaven, the heifer snuffs the gale 1.477. Through gaping nostrils, or about the mere 1.478. Shrill-twittering flits the swallow, and the frog 1.479. Crouch in the mud and chant their dirge of old. 1.480. oft, too, the ant from out her inmost cells 1.481. Fretting the narrow path, her eggs conveys; 1.482. Or the huge bow sucks moisture; or a host 1.483. of rooks from food returning in long line 1.484. Clamour with jostling wings. Now mayst thou see 1.485. The various ocean-fowl and those that pry 1.486. Round Asian meads within thy fresher-pools 1.487. Cayster, as in eager rivalry 1.488. About their shoulders dash the plenteous spray 1.489. Now duck their head beneath the wave, now run 1.490. Into the billows, for sheer idle joy 1.491. of their mad bathing-revel. Then the crow 1.492. With full voice, good-for-naught, inviting rain 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. 1.501. Appear the stars' keen edges, nor the moon 1.502. As borrowing of her brother's beams to rise 1.511. Distinct in clearest air is Nisus seen 2.103. Wherein from some strange tree a germ they pen 2.104. And to the moist rind bid it cleave and grow. 2.105. Or, otherwise, in knotless trunks is hewn 2.106. A breach, and deep into the solid grain 2.107. A path with wedges cloven; then fruitful slip 2.108. Are set herein, and—no long time—behold! 2.136. But lo! how many kinds, and what their names 2.140. On placeName key= 2.141. With fury on the ships, how many wave 2.142. Come rolling shoreward from the Ionian sea. 2.303. Barren for fruits, by tilth untamable 2.304. Nor grape her kind, nor apples their good name 2.305. Maintaining—will in this wise yield thee proof: 2.306. Stout osier-baskets from the rafter-smoke 2.307. And strainers of the winepress pluck thee down; 2.308. Hereinto let that evil land, with fresh 2.309. Spring-water mixed, be trampled to the full; 2.310. The moisture, mark you, will ooze all away 2.311. In big drops issuing through the osier-withes 2.312. But plainly will its taste the secret tell 2.313. And with a harsh twang ruefully distort 2.314. The mouths of them that try it. Rich soil again 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; 2.458. 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 2.467. 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 2.491. Where'er the god hath turned his comely head. 2.492. Therefore to Bacchus duly will we sing 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 3.1. Thee too, great Pales, will I hymn, and thee 3.2. Amphrysian shepherd, worthy to be sung 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 3.9. Latonian Delos and Hippodame 3.10. And Pelops for his ivory shoulder famed 3.11. Keen charioteer? Needs must a path be tried 3.12. By which I too may lift me from the dust 3.13. And float triumphant through the mouths of men. 3.14. Yea, I shall be the first, so life endure 3.15. To lead the Muses with me, as I pa 3.16. To mine own country from the Aonian height; 3.17. I, placeName key= 3.18. of Idumaea, and raise a marble shrine 3.19. On thy green plain fast by the water-side 3.20. Where Mincius winds more vast in lazy coils 3.21. And rims his margent with the tender reed. 3.22. Amid my shrine shall Caesar's godhead dwell. 3.23. To him will I, as victor, bravely dight 3.24. In Tyrian purple, drive along the bank 3.25. A hundred four-horse cars. All placeName key= 3.26. Leaving Alpheus and Molorchus' grove 3.27. On foot shall strive, or with the raw-hide glove; 3.28. Whilst I, my head with stripped green olive crowned 3.29. Will offer gifts. Even 'tis present joy 3.30. To lead the high processions to the fane 3.31. And view the victims felled; or how the scene 3.32. Sunders with shifted face, and placeName key= 3.33. Inwoven thereon with those proud curtains rise. 3.34. of gold and massive ivory on the door 3.35. I'll trace the battle of the Gangarides 3.36. And our Quirinus' conquering arms, and there 3.37. Surging with war, and hugely flowing, the placeName key= 3.38. And columns heaped on high with naval brass. 3.39. And placeName key= 3.40. And quelled Niphates, and the Parthian foe 3.41. Who trusts in flight and backward-volleying darts 3.42. And trophies torn with twice triumphant hand 3.43. From empires twain on ocean's either shore. 3.44. And breathing forms of Parian marble there 3.45. Shall stand, the offspring of Assaracus 3.46. And great names of the Jove-descended folk 3.47. And father Tros, and placeName key= 3.48. of Cynthus. And accursed Envy there 3.77. The age for Hymen's rites, Lucina's pangs 3.81. Survives within them, loose the males: be first 3.82. To speed thy herds of cattle to their loves 3.95. His lofty step, his limbs' elastic tread: 3.96. Dauntless he leads the herd, still first to try 3.97. The threatening flood, or brave the unknown bridge 3.98. By no vain noise affrighted; lofty-necked 3.99. With clean-cut head, short belly, and stout back; 3.100. His sprightly breast exuberant with brawn. 3.102. And sorrel. Then lo! if arms are clashed afar 3.215. But corn-ears with thy hand pluck from the crops. 3.216. Nor shall the brood-kine, as of yore, for thee 3.242. The north wind stoops, and scatters from his path 3.243. Dry clouds and storms of placeName key= 3.244. And rippling plains 'gin shiver with light gusts; 3.245. A sound is heard among the forest-tops; 3.246. Long waves come racing shoreward: fast he flies 3.247. With instant pinion sweeping earth and main. 3.248. A steed like this or on the mighty course 3.249. of placeName key= 3.250. Red foam-flakes from his mouth, or, kindlier task 3.251. With patient neck support the Belgian car. 3.252. Then, broken at last, let swell their burly frame 3.253. With fattening corn-mash, for, unbroke, they will 3.254. With pride wax wanton, and, when caught, refuse 3.255. Tough lash to brook or jagged curb obey. 3.256. But no device so fortifies their power 3.257. As love's blind stings of passion to forefend 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 3.264. His strength with smouldering fire, till he forget 3.265. Both grass and woodland. She indeed full oft 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 3.269. While each on each the furious rivals run; 3.270. Wound follows wound; the black blood laves their limbs; 3.271. Horns push and strive against opposing horns 3.272. With mighty groaning; all the forest-side 3.273. And far placeName key= 3.274. Nor wont the champions in one stall to couch; 3.275. But he that's worsted hies him to strange clime 3.276. Far off, an exile, moaning much the shame 3.277. The blows of that proud conqueror, then love's lo 3.278. Avenged not; with one glance toward the byre 3.279. His ancient royalties behind him lie. 3.280. So with all heed his strength he practiseth 3.281. And nightlong makes the hard bare stones his bed 3.282. And feeds on prickly leaf and pointed rush 3.283. And proves himself, and butting at a tree 3.284. Learns to fling wrath into his horns, with blow 3.285. Provokes the air, and scattering clouds of sand 3.289. As in mid ocean when a wave far of 3.291. Its rounded breast, and, onward rolled to land 3.292. Falls with prodigious roar among the rocks 3.343. By shepherds truly named hippomanes 3.344. Hippomanes, fell stepdames oft have culled 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 3.440. Whole pools are turned; and on their untrimmed beard 3.468. And seek some other o'er the teeming plain. 3.469. Even with such snowy bribe of wool, if ear 3.475. With salt herbs to the cote, whence more they love 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; 3.483. 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! 4.287. of the Divine Intelligence, and to drink 4.288. Pure draughts of ether; for God permeates all— 4.289. Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault of heaven— 4.290. From whom flocks, herds, men, beasts of every kind 4.291. Draw each at birth the fine essential flame; 4.292. Yea, and that all things hence to Him return 4.293. Brought back by dissolution, nor can death 4.294. Find place: but, each into his starry rank 4.315. Or cut the empty wax away? for oft 4.316. Into their comb the newt has gnawed unseen 4.317. And the light-loathing beetles crammed their bed 4.318. And he that sits at others' board to feast 4.319. The do-naught drone; or 'gainst the unequal foe 4.320. Swoops the fierce hornet, or the moth's fell tribe; 4.321. Or spider, victim of Minerva's spite 4.322. Athwart the doorway hangs her swaying net. 4.323. The more impoverished they, the keenlier all 4.324. To mend the fallen fortunes of their race 4.325. Will nerve them, fill the cells up, tier on tier 4.326. And weave their granaries from the rifled flowers. 4.327. Now, seeing that life doth even to bee-folk bring 4.328. Our human chances, if in dire disease 4.329. Their bodies' strength should languish—which anon 4.330. By no uncertain tokens may be told— 4.331. Forthwith the sick change hue; grim leanness mar 4.332. Their visage; then from out the cells they bear 4.333. Forms reft of light, and lead the mournful pomp; 4.334. Or foot to foot about the porch they hang 4.335. Or within closed doors loiter, listless all 4.336. From famine, and benumbed with shrivelling cold. 4.337. Then is a deep note heard, a long-drawn hum 4.338. As when the chill South through the forests sighs 4.339. As when the troubled ocean hoarsely boom 4.340. With back-swung billow, as ravening tide of fire 4.341. Surges, shut fast within the furnace-walls. 4.342. Then do I bid burn scented galbanum 4.343. And, honey-streams through reeden troughs instilled 4.344. Challenge and cheer their flagging appetite 4.345. To taste the well-known food; and it shall boot 4.346. To mix therewith the savour bruised from gall 4.347. And rose-leaves dried, or must to thickness boiled 4.348. By a fierce fire, or juice of raisin-grape 4.349. From Psithian vine, and with its bitter smell 4.350. Centaury, and the famed Cecropian thyme. 4.351. There is a meadow-flower by country folk 4.352. Hight star-wort; 'tis a plant not far to seek; 4.353. For from one sod an ample growth it rears 4.354. Itself all golden, but girt with plenteous leaves 4.355. Where glory of purple shines through violet gloom. 4.356. With chaplets woven hereof full oft are decked 4.357. Heaven's altars: harsh its taste upon the tongue; 4.358. Shepherds in vales smooth-shorn of nibbling flock 4.359. By placeName key= 4.360. The roots of this, well seethed in fragrant wine 4.361. Set in brimmed baskets at their doors for food. 4.362. But if one's whole stock fail him at a stroke 4.363. Nor hath he whence to breed the race anew 4.364. 'Tis time the wondrous secret to disclose 4.365. Taught by the swain of Arcady, even how 4.366. The blood of slaughtered bullocks oft has borne 4.367. Bees from corruption. I will trace me back 4.368. To its prime source the story's tangled thread 4.369. And thence unravel. For where thy happy folk 4.370. Canopus , city of Pellaean fame 4.371. Dwell by the placeName key= 4.372. And high o'er furrows they have called their own 4.373. Skim in their painted wherries; where, hard by 4.374. The quivered Persian presses, and that flood 4.375. Which from the swart-skinned Aethiop bears him down 4.376. Swift-parted into sevenfold branching mouth 4.377. With black mud fattens and makes Aegypt green 4.378. That whole domain its welfare's hope secure 4.379. Rests on this art alone. And first is chosen 4.380. A strait recess, cramped closer to this end 4.381. Which next with narrow roof of tiles atop 4.382. 'Twixt prisoning walls they pinch, and add hereto 4.383. From the four winds four slanting window-slits. 4.384. Then seek they from the herd a steer, whose horn 4.385. With two years' growth are curling, and stop fast 4.386. Plunge madly as he may, the panting mouth 4.387. And nostrils twain, and done with blows to death 4.388. Batter his flesh to pulp i' the hide yet whole 4.389. And shut the doors, and leave him there to lie. 4.390. But 'neath his ribs they scatter broken boughs 4.391. With thyme and fresh-pulled cassias: this is done 4.392. When first the west winds bid the waters flow 4.393. Ere flush the meadows with new tints, and ere 4.394. The twittering swallow buildeth from the beams. 4.395. Meanwhile the juice within his softened bone 4.396. Heats and ferments, and things of wondrous birth 4.397. Footless at first, anon with feet and wings 4.398. Swarm there and buzz, a marvel to behold; 4.399. And more and more the fleeting breeze they take 4.400. Till, like a shower that pours from summer-clouds 4.401. Forth burst they, or like shafts from quivering string 4.402. When 4.403. Say what was he, what God, that fashioned forth 4.404. This art for us, O Muses? of man's skill 4.405. Whence came the new adventure? From thy vale 4.406. Peneian Tempe, turning, bee-bereft 4.407. So runs the tale, by famine and disease 4.408. Mournful the shepherd Aristaeus stood 4.409. Fast by the haunted river-head, and thu 4.410. With many a plaint to her that bare him cried: 4.411. “Mother, Cyrene, mother, who hast thy home 4.412. Beneath this whirling flood, if he thou sayest 4.413. Apollo, lord of Thymbra, be my sire 4.414. Sprung from the Gods' high line, why barest thou me 4.415. With fortune's ban for birthright? Where is now 4.416. Thy love to me-ward banished from thy breast? 4.417. O! wherefore didst thou bid me hope for heaven? 4.418. Lo! even the crown of this poor mortal life 4.419. Which all my skilful care by field and fold 4.420. No art neglected, scarce had fashioned forth 4.421. Even this falls from me, yet thou call'st me son. 4.422. Nay, then, arise! With thine own hands pluck up 4.423. My fruit-plantations: on the homestead fling 4.424. Pitiless fire; make havoc of my crops; 4.425. Burn the young plants, and wield the stubborn axe 4.426. Against my vines, if there hath taken the 4.427. Such loathing of my greatness.” 4.428. But that cry 4.429. Even from her chamber in the river-deeps 4.430. His mother heard: around her spun the nymph 4.431. Milesian wool stained through with hyaline dye 4.432. Drymo, Xantho, Ligea, Phyllodoce 4.433. Their glossy locks o'er snowy shoulders shed 4.434. Cydippe and Lycorias yellow-haired 4.435. A maiden one, one newly learned even then 4.436. To bear Lucina's birth-pang. Clio, too 4.437. And Beroe, sisters, ocean-children both 4.438. Both zoned with gold and girt with dappled fell 4.439. Ephyre and Opis, and from Asian mead 4.440. Deiopea, and, bow at length laid by 4.441. Fleet-footed Arethusa. But in their midst 4.442. Fair Clymene was telling o'er the tale 4.443. of Vulcan's idle vigilance and the stealth 4.444. of Mars' sweet rapine, and from Chaos old 4.445. Counted the jostling love-joys of the Gods. 4.446. Charmed by whose lay, the while their woolly task 4.447. With spindles down they drew, yet once again 4.448. Smote on his mother's ears the mournful plaint 4.449. of Aristaeus; on their glassy throne 4.450. Amazement held them all; but Arethuse 4.451. Before the rest put forth her auburn head 4.452. Peering above the wave-top, and from far 4.453. Exclaimed, “Cyrene, sister, not for naught 4.454. Scared by a groan so deep, behold! 'tis he 4.455. Even Aristaeus, thy heart's fondest care 4.456. Here by the brink of the Peneian sire 4.457. Stands woebegone and weeping, and by name 4.458. Cries out upon thee for thy cruelty.” 4.459. To whom, strange terror knocking at her heart 4.460. “Bring, bring him to our sight,” the mother cried; 4.461. “His feet may tread the threshold even of Gods.” 4.462. So saying, she bids the flood yawn wide and yield 4.463. A pathway for his footsteps; but the wave 4.464. Arched mountain-wise closed round him, and within 4.465. Its mighty bosom welcomed, and let speed 4.466. To the deep river-bed. And now, with eye 4.467. of wonder gazing on his mother's hall 4.468. And watery kingdom and cave-prisoned pool 4.469. And echoing groves, he went, and, stunned by that 4.470. Stupendous whirl of waters, separate saw 4.471. All streams beneath the mighty earth that glide 4.472. Phasis and Lycus, and that fountain-head 4.473. Whence first the deep Enipeus leaps to light 4.474. Whence father placeName key= 4.475. And Hypanis that roars amid his rocks 4.476. And Mysian Caicus, and, bull-browed 4.477. 'Twixt either gilded horn, placeName key= 4.478. Than whom none other through the laughing plain 4.479. More furious pours into the purple sea. 4.480. Soon as the chamber's hanging roof of stone 4.481. Was gained, and now Cyrene from her son 4.482. Had heard his idle weeping, in due course 4.483. Clear water for his hands the sisters bring 4.484. With napkins of shorn pile, while others heap 4.485. The board with dainties, and set on afresh 4.486. The brimming goblets; with Panchaian fire 4.487. Upleap the altars; then the mother spake 4.488. “Take beakers of Maconian wine,” she said 4.489. “Pour we to Ocean.” Ocean, sire of all 4.490. She worships, and the sister-nymphs who guard 4.491. The hundred forests and the hundred streams; 4.492. Thrice Vesta's fire with nectar clear she dashed 4.493. Thrice to the roof-top shot the flame and shone: 4.494. Armed with which omen she essayed to speak: 4.495. “In Neptune's gulf Carpathian dwells a seer 4.496. Caerulean Proteus, he who metes the main 4.497. With fish-drawn chariot of two-footed steeds; 4.498. Now visits he his native home once more 4.499. Pallene and the Emathian ports; to him 4.500. We nymphs do reverence, ay, and Nereus old; 4.501. For all things knows the seer, both those which are 4.502. And have been, or which time hath yet to bring; 4.503. So willed it Neptune, whose portentous flocks 4.504. And loathly sea-calves 'neath the surge he feeds. 4.505. Him first, my son, behoves thee seize and bind 4.506. That he may all the cause of sickness show 4.507. And grant a prosperous end. For save by force 4.508. No rede will he vouchsafe, nor shalt thou bend 4.509. His soul by praying; whom once made captive, ply 4.510. With rigorous force and fetters; against these 4.511. His wiles will break and spend themselves in vain. 4.512. I, when the sun has lit his noontide fires 4.513. When the blades thirst, and cattle love the shade 4.514. Myself will guide thee to the old man's haunt 4.515. Whither he hies him weary from the waves 4.516. That thou mayst safelier steal upon his sleep. 4.517. But when thou hast gripped him fast with hand and gyve 4.518. Then divers forms and bestial semblance 4.519. Shall mock thy grasp; for sudden he will change 4.520. To bristly boar, fell tigress, dragon scaled 4.521. And tawny-tufted lioness, or send forth 4.522. A crackling sound of fire, and so shake of 4.523. The fetters, or in showery drops anon 4.524. Dissolve and vanish. But the more he shift 4.525. His endless transformations, thou, my son 4.526. More straitlier clench the clinging bands, until 4.527. His body's shape return to that thou sawest 4.528. When with closed eyelids first he sank to sleep.” 4.529. So saying, an odour of ambrosial dew 4.530. She sheds around, and all his frame therewith 4.531. Steeps throughly; forth from his trim-combed lock 4.532. Breathed effluence sweet, and a lithe vigour leapt 4.533. Into his limbs. There is a cavern vast 4.534. Scooped in the mountain-side, where wave on wave 4.535. By the wind's stress is driven, and breaks far up 4.536. Its inmost creeks—safe anchorage from of old 4.537. For tempest-taken mariners: therewithin 4.538. Behind a rock's huge barrier, Proteus hides. 4.539. Here in close covert out of the sun's eye 4.540. The youth she places, and herself the while 4.541. Swathed in a shadowy mist stands far aloof. 4.542. And now the ravening dog-star that burns up 4.543. The thirsty Indians blazed in heaven; his course 4.544. The fiery sun had half devoured: the blade 4.545. Were parched, and the void streams with droughty jaw 4.546. Baked to their mud-beds by the scorching ray 4.547. When Proteus seeking his accustomed cave 4.548. Strode from the billows: round him frolicking 4.549. The watery folk that people the waste sea 4.550. Sprinkled the bitter brine-dew far and wide. 4.551. Along the shore in scattered groups to feed 4.552. The sea-calves stretch them: while the seer himself 4.553. Like herdsman on the hills when evening bid 4.554. The steers from pasture to their stall repair 4.555. And the lambs' bleating whets the listening wolves 4.556. Sits midmost on the rock and tells his tale. 4.557. But Aristaeus, the foe within his clutch 4.558. Scarce suffering him compose his aged limbs 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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