Georgics
Virgil
Vergil. The Poems of Vergil. Rhoades, James, translator. London: Oxford University Press, 1921.
- Even him, when sore disease or sluggish eld
- Now saps his strength, pen fast at home, and spare
- His not inglorious age. A horse grown old
- Slow kindling unto love in vain prolongs
- The fruitless task, and, to the encounter come,
- As fire in stubble blusters without strength,
- He rages idly. Therefore mark thou first
- Their age and mettle, other points anon,
- As breed and lineage, or what pain was theirs
- To lose the race, what pride the palm to win.
- Seest how the chariots in mad rivalry
- Poured from the barrier grip the course and go,
- When youthful hope is highest, and every heart
- Drained with each wild pulsation? How they ply
- The circling lash, and reaching forward let
- The reins hang free! Swift spins the glowing wheel;
- And now they stoop, and now erect in air
- Seem borne through space and towering to the sky:
- No stop, no stay; the dun sand whirls aloft;
- They reek with foam-flakes and pursuing breath;
- So sweet is fame, so prized the victor's palm.
- 'Twas Ericthonius first took heart to yoke
- Four horses to his car, and rode above
- The whirling wheels to victory: but the ring
- And bridle-reins, mounted on horses' backs,
- The Pelethronian Lapithae bequeathed,
- And taught the knight in arms to spurn the ground,
- And arch the upgathered footsteps of his pride.
- Each task alike is arduous, and for each
- A horse young, fiery, swift of foot, they seek;
- How oft so-e'er yon rival may have chased
- The flying foe, or boast his native plain
- Epirus, or Mycenae's stubborn hold,
- And trace his lineage back to Neptune's birth.