Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- How each to recognize now hear me tell.
- Dost ask if loose or passing firm it be—
- Since one for corn hath liking, one for wine,
- The firmer sort for Ceres, none too loose
- For thee, Lyaeus?—with scrutinizing eye
- First choose thy ground, and bid a pit be sunk
- Deep in the solid earth, then cast the mould
- All back again, and stamp the surface smooth.
- If it suffice not, loose will be the land,
- More meet for cattle and for kindly vines;
- But if, rebellious, to its proper bounds
- The soil returns not, but fills all the trench
- And overtops it, then the glebe is gross;
- Look for stiff ridges and reluctant clods,
- And with strong bullocks cleave the fallow crust.
- Salt ground again, and bitter, as 'tis called—
- Barren for fruits, by tilth untamable,
- Nor grape her kind, nor apples their good name
- Maintaining—will in this wise yield thee proof:
- Stout osier-baskets from the rafter-smoke,
- And strainers of the winepress pluck thee down;
- Hereinto let that evil land, with fresh
- Spring-water mixed, be trampled to the full;
- The moisture, mark you, will ooze all away,
- In big drops issuing through the osier-withes,
- But plainly will its taste the secret tell,
- And with a harsh twang ruefully distort
- The mouths of them that try it. Rich soil again
- We learn on this wise: tossed from hand to hand
- Yet cracks it never, but pitch-like, as we hold,
- Clings to the fingers. A land with moisture rife
- Breeds lustier herbage, and is more than meet
- Prolific. Ah I may never such for me
- O'er-fertile prove, or make too stout a show
- At the first earing! Heavy land or light
- The mute self-witness of its weight betrays.
- A glance will serve to warn thee which is black,
- Or what the hue of any. But hard it is
- To track the signs of that pernicious cold:
- Pines only, noxious yews, and ivies dark
- At times reveal its traces.