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Georgics

Perseus Latin · Perseus Latin · 2,723 sections

  1. 1.231.301

    By the Gods' grace to heart-sick mortals given,

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    And a path cleft between them, where might wheel

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    On sloping plane the system of the Signs.

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    And as toward Scythia and Rhipaean heights

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    The world mounts upward, likewise sinks it down

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    Toward Libya and the south, this pole of ours

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    Still towering high, that other, 'neath their feet,

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    By dark Styx frowned on, and the abysmal shades.

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    Here glides the huge Snake forth with sinuous coils

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    'Twixt the two Bears and round them river-wise—

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    The Bears that fear 'neath Ocean's brim to dip.

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    There either, say they, reigns the eternal hush

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    Of night that knows no seasons, her black pall

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    Thick-mantling fold on fold; or thitherward

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    From us returning Dawn brings back the day;

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    And when the first breath of his panting steeds

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    On us the Orient flings, that hour with them

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    Red Vesper 'gins to trim his 'lated fires.

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    Hence under doubtful skies forebode we can

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    The coming tempests, hence both harvest-day

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    And seed-time, when to smite the treacherous main

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    With driving oars, when launch the fair-rigged fleet,

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    Or in ripe hour to fell the forest-pine.

  24. 1.257.324

    Hence, too, not idly do we watch the stars—

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    Their rising and their setting-and the year,

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    Four varying seasons to one law conformed.

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    If chilly showers e'er shut the farmer's door,

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    Much that had soon with sunshine cried for haste,

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    He may forestall; the ploughman batters keen

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    His blunted share's hard tooth, scoops from a tree

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    His troughs, or on the cattle stamps a brand,

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    Or numbers on the corn-heaps; some make sharp

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    The stakes and two-pronged forks, and willow-bands

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    Amerian for the bending vine prepare.

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    Now let the pliant basket plaited be

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    Of bramble-twigs; now set your corn to parch

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    Before the fire; now bruise it with the stone.

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    Nay even on holy days some tasks to ply

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    Is right and lawful: this no ban forbids,

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    To turn the runnel's course, fence corn-fields in,

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    Make springes for the birds, burn up the briars,

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    And plunge in wholesome stream the bleating flock.

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    Oft too with oil or apples plenty-cheap

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    The creeping ass's ribs his driver packs,

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    And home from town returning brings instead

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    A dented mill-stone or black lump of pitch.

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    The moon herself in various rank assigns

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    The days for labour lucky: fly the fifth;

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    Then sprang pale Orcus and the Eumenides;

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    Earth then in awful labour brought to light

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    Coeus, Iapetus, and Typhoeus fell,

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    And those sworn brethren banded to break down

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    The gates of heaven; thrice, sooth to say, they strove

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    Ossa on Pelion's top to heave and heap,

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    Aye, and on Ossa to up-roll amain

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    Leafy Olympus; thrice with thunderbolt

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    Their mountain-stair the Sire asunder smote.

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    Seventh after tenth is lucky both to set

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    The vine in earth, and take and tame the steer,

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    And fix the leashes to the warp; the ninth

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    To runagates is kinder, cross to thieves.

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    Many the tasks that lightlier lend themselves

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    In chilly night, or when the sun is young,

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    And Dawn bedews the world. By night 'tis best

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    To reap light stubble, and parched fields by night;

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    For nights the suppling moisture never fails.

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    And one will sit the long late watches out

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    By winter fire-light, shaping with keen blade

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    The torches to a point; his wife the while,

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    Her tedious labour soothing with a song,

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    Speeds the shrill comb along the warp, or else

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    With Vulcan's aid boils the sweet must-juice down,

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    And skims with leaves the quivering cauldron's wave.

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    But ruddy Ceres in mid heat is mown,

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    And in mid heat the parched ears are bruised

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    Upon the floor; to plough strip, strip to sow;

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    Winter's the lazy time for husbandmen.

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    In the cold season farmers wont to taste

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    The increase of their toil, and yield themselves

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    To mutual interchange of festal cheer.

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    Boon winter bids them, and unbinds their cares,

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    As laden keels, when now the port they touch,

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    And happy sailors crown the sterns with flowers.

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    Nathless then also time it is to strip

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    Acorns from oaks, and berries from the bay,

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    Olives, and bleeding myrtles, then to set

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    Snares for the crane, and meshes for the stag,

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    And hunt the long-eared hares, then pierce the doe

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    With whirl of hempen-thonged Balearic sling,

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    While snow lies deep, and streams are drifting ice.

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    What need to tell of autumn's storms and stars,

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    And wherefore men must watch, when now the day

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    Grows shorter, and more soft the summer's heat?

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    When Spring the rain-bringer comes rushing down,

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    Or when the beards of harvest on the plain

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    Bristle already, and the milky corn

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    On its green stalk is swelling? Many a time,

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    When now the farmer to his yellow fields

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    The reaping-hind came bringing, even in act

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    To lop the brittle barley stems, have I

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Perseus Latin. CTS URN phi0690.phi002.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0. Source.