GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:88.7-89.5 urn:cts:latinLit:phi1103.phi001.lascivaroma-eng1:88.7-89.5

In fervid summer with the glowing grain,Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch,And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold.The dainty she-goat from my pasture bearsHer milk-distended udders to the town:Out of my sheep-cotes ta'en the fatted lambSends home with silver right-hand heavily charged;And, while its mother lows, the tender calfBefore the temples of the Gods must bleed.Hence of such Godhead (traveller!), stand in awe;Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands.Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard;'I'm willing 'faith' (thou say'st) but 'faith here comesThe boor and plucking forth with bended armMakes of this tool a club for doughty hand.

This place, O youths, I protect, nor less this turf-builded cottage,Roofed with its osier-twigs and thatched with its bundles of sedges;I from the dried oak hewn and fashioned with rustical hatchetGuarding them year by year while more are they evermore thriving.For here be owners twain who greet and worship my Godship,