Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- The slips once planted, yet remains to cleave
- The earth about their roots persistently,
- And toss the cumbrous hoes, or task the soil
- With burrowing plough-share, and ply up and down
- Your labouring bullocks through the vineyard's midst,
- Then too smooth reeds and shafts of whittled wand,
- And ashen poles and sturdy forks to shape,
- Whereby supported they may learn to mount,
- Laugh at the gales, and through the elm-tops win
- From story up to story.
- Now while yet
- The leaves are in their first fresh infant growth,
- Forbear their frailty, and while yet the bough
- Shoots joyfully toward heaven, with loosened rein
- Launched on the void, assail it not as yet
- With keen-edged sickle, but let the leaves alone
- Be culled with clip of fingers here and there.
- But when they clasp the elms with sturdy trunks
- Erect, then strip the leaves off, prune the boughs;
- Sooner they shrink from steel, but then put forth
- The arm of power, and stem the branchy tide.
- Hedges too must be woven and all beasts
- Barred entrance, chiefly while the leaf is young
- And witless of disaster; for therewith,
- Beside harsh winters and o'erpowering sun,
- Wild buffaloes and pestering goats for ay
- Besport them, sheep and heifers glut their greed.
- Nor cold by hoar-frost curdled, nor the prone
- Dead weight of summer upon the parched crags,
- So scathe it, as the flocks with venom-bite
- Of their hard tooth, whose gnawing scars the stem.
- For no offence but this to Bacchus bleeds
- The goat at every altar, and old plays
- Upon the stage find entrance; therefore too
- The sons of Theseus through the country-side—
- Hamlet and crossway—set the prize of wit,
- And on the smooth sward over oiled skins
- Dance in their tipsy frolic. Furthermore
- The Ausonian swains, a race from Troy derived,
- Make merry with rough rhymes and boisterous mirth,
- Grim masks of hollowed bark assume, invoke
- Thee with glad hymns, O Bacchus, and to thee
- Hang puppet-faces on tall pines to swing.
- Hence every vineyard teems with mellowing fruit,
- Till hollow vale o'erflows, and gorge profound,
- Where'er the god hath turned his comely head.
- Therefore to Bacchus duly will we sing
- Meet honour with ancestral hymns, and cates
- And dishes bear him; and the doomed goat
- Led by the horn shall at the altar stand,
- Whose entrails rich on hazel-spits we'll roast.
- This further task again, to dress the vine,
- Hath needs beyond exhausting; the whole soil
- Thrice, four times, yearly must be cleft, the sod
- With hoes reversed be crushed continually,
- The whole plantation lightened of its leaves.
- Round on the labourer spins the wheel of toil,
- As on its own track rolls the circling year.
- Soon as the vine her lingering leaves hath shed,
- And the chill north wind from the forests shook
- Their coronal, even then the careful swain
- Looks keenly forward to the coming year,
- With Saturn's curved fang pursues and prunes
- The vine forlorn, and lops it into shape.
- Be first to dig the ground up, first to clear
- And burn the refuse-branches, first to house
- Again your vine-poles, last to gather fruit.
- Twice doth the thickening shade beset the vine,
- Twice weeds with stifling briers o'ergrow the crop;
- And each a toilsome labour. Do thou praise
- Broad acres, farm but few. Rough twigs beside
- Of butcher's broom among the woods are cut,
- And reeds upon the river-banks, and still
- The undressed willow claims thy fostering care.
- So now the vines are fettered, now the trees
- Let go the sickle, and the last dresser now
- Sings of his finished rows; but still the ground
- Must vexed be, the dust be stirred, and heaven
- Still set thee trembling for the ripened grapes.
- Not so with olives; small husbandry need they,
- Nor look for sickle bowed or biting rake,
- When once they have gripped the soil, and borne the breeze.
- Earth of herself, with hooked fang laid bare,
- Yields moisture for the plants, and heavy fruit,
- The ploughshare aiding; therewithal thou'lt rear
- The olive's fatness well-beloved of Peace.