Georgics

Virgil

Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.

  1. Then thou shalt suffer in alternate years
  2. The new-reaped fields to rest, and on the plain
  3. A crust of sloth to harden; or, when stars
  4. Are changed in heaven, there sow the golden grain
  5. Where erst, luxuriant with its quivering pod,
  6. Pulse, or the slender vetch-crop, thou hast cleared,
  7. And lupin sour, whose brittle stalks arise,
  8. A hurtling forest. For the plain is parched
  9. By flax-crop, parched by oats, by poppies parched
  10. In Lethe-slumber drenched. Nathless by change
  11. The travailing earth is lightened, but stint not
  12. With refuse rich to soak the thirsty soil,
  13. And shower foul ashes o'er the exhausted fields.
  14. Thus by rotation like repose is gained,
  15. Nor earth meanwhile uneared and thankless left.
  16. Oft, too, 'twill boot to fire the naked fields,
  17. And the light stubble burn with crackling flames;
  18. Whether that earth therefrom some hidden strength
  19. And fattening food derives, or that the fire
  20. Bakes every blemish out, and sweats away
  21. Each useless humour, or that the heat unlocks
  22. New passages and secret pores, whereby
  23. Their life-juice to the tender blades may win;
  24. Or that it hardens more and helps to bind
  25. The gaping veins, lest penetrating showers,
  26. Or fierce sun's ravening might, or searching blast
  27. Of the keen north should sear them. Well, I wot,
  28. He serves the fields who with his harrow breaks
  29. The sluggish clods, and hurdles osier-twined
  30. Hales o'er them; from the far Olympian height
  31. Him golden Ceres not in vain regards;
  32. And he, who having ploughed the fallow plain
  33. And heaved its furrowy ridges, turns once more
  34. Cross-wise his shattering share, with stroke on stroke
  35. The earth assails, and makes the field his thrall.
  36. Pray for wet summers and for winters fine,
  37. Ye husbandmen; in winter's dust the crops
  38. Exceedingly rejoice, the field hath joy;
  39. No tilth makes Mysia lift her head so high,
  40. Nor Gargarus his own harvests so admire.
  41. Why tell of him, who, having launched his seed,
  42. Sets on for close encounter, and rakes smooth
  43. The dry dust hillocks, then on the tender corn
  44. Lets in the flood, whose waters follow fain;
  45. And when the parched field quivers, and all the blades
  46. Are dying, from the brow of its hill-bed,
  47. See! see! he lures the runnel; down it falls,
  48. Waking hoarse murmurs o'er the polished stones,
  49. And with its bubblings slakes the thirsty fields?
  50. Or why of him, who lest the heavy ears
  51. O'erweigh the stalk, while yet in tender blade
  52. Feeds down the crop's luxuriance, when its growth
  53. First tops the furrows? Why of him who drains
  54. The marsh-land's gathered ooze through soaking sand,
  55. Chiefly what time in treacherous moons a stream
  56. Goes out in spate, and with its coat of slime
  57. Holds all the country, whence the hollow dykes
  58. Sweat steaming vapour?