Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- Nay, every race on earth of men, and beasts,
- And ocean-folk, and flocks, and painted birds,
- Rush to the raging fire: love sways them all.
- Never than then more fiercely o'er the plain
- Prowls heedless of her whelps the lioness:
- Nor monstrous bears such wide-spread havoc-doom
- Deal through the forests; then the boar is fierce,
- Most deadly then the tigress: then, alack!
- Ill roaming is it on Libya's lonely plains.
- Mark you what shivering thrills the horse's frame,
- If but a waft the well-known gust conveys?
- Nor curb can check them then, nor lash severe,
- Nor rocks and caverned crags, nor barrier-floods,
- That rend and whirl and wash the hills away.
- Then speeds amain the great Sabellian boar,
- His tushes whets, with forefoot tears the ground,
- Rubs 'gainst a tree his flanks, and to and fro
- Hardens each wallowing shoulder to the wound.
- What of the youth, when love's relentless might
- Stirs the fierce fire within his veins? Behold!
- In blindest midnight how he swims the gulf
- Convulsed with bursting storm-clouds! Over him
- Heaven's huge gate thunders; the rock-shattered main
- Utters a warning cry; nor parents' tears
- Can backward call him, nor the maid he loves,
- Too soon to die on his untimely pyre.
- What of the spotted ounce to Bacchus dear,
- Or warlike wolf-kin or the breed of dogs?
- Why tell how timorous stags the battle join?
- O'er all conspicuous is the rage of mares,
- By Venus' self inspired of old, what time
- The Potnian four with rending jaws devoured
- The limbs of Glaucus. Love-constrained they roam
- Past Gargarus, past the loud Ascanian flood;
- They climb the mountains, and the torrents swim;
- And when their eager marrow first conceives
- The fire, in Spring-tide chiefly, for with Spring
- Warmth doth their frames revisit, then they stand
- All facing westward on the rocky heights,
- And of the gentle breezes take their fill;
- And oft unmated, marvellous to tell,
- But of the wind impregnate, far and wide
- O'er craggy height and lowly vale they scud,
- Not toward thy rising, Eurus, or the sun's,
- But westward and north-west, or whence up-springs
- Black Auster, that glooms heaven with rainy cold.
- Hence from their groin slow drips a poisonous juice,
- By shepherds truly named hippomanes,
- Hippomanes, fell stepdames oft have culled,
- And mixed with herbs and spells of baneful bode.
- Fast flies meanwhile the irreparable hour,
- As point to point our charmed round we trace.
- Enough of herds. This second task remains,
- The wool-clad flocks and shaggy goats to treat.
- Here lies a labour; hence for glory look,
- Brave husbandmen. Nor doubtfully know
- How hard it is for words to triumph here,
- And shed their lustre on a theme so slight:
- But I am caught by ravishing desire
- Above the lone Parnassian steep; I love
- To walk the heights, from whence no earlier track
- Slopes gently downward to Castalia's spring.
- Now, awful Pales, strike a louder tone.