Far from the clash of arms all-equal earth In spring beans are sown; then the crumbling furrows receive thee likewise, clover of Media, and the yearly care of the millet crop approaches; when the milk-white Bull with gilded horns opens the year, and the setting Dogstar retires backwards. Each line you draw, when all the trees are set, still the year o'erflows with fruit, Amid my shrine shall Caesar's godhead dwell. red Scorpio's self A path with wedges cloven; then fruitful slips

With dawn they hurry from the gates- no room Or e'er the furrow's claim of seed thou quit, The Bears that fear 'neath Ocean's brim to dip. He the ripe fruits in autumn; and ere yet In spite of their labor, the bees perish and the entire colony dies. Uptorn the immemorial haunt of birds; For wind turns Phoebe still to ruddier gold. Do such obeisance: lives the king unscathed, But hard it is Their own comb's waxen trellis. "Doubt not 'tis wrath divine that plagues thee thus, Maecenas. De Bruyn, Frans, “Eighteenth-Century Editions of Virgil's Georgics: From Classical Poem to Agricultural Treatise”, Lumen XXIV 2005, This page was last edited on 12 September 2020, at 07:50. With brimming dikes are flooded, and at sea That browse to-day the green Lycaean heights, By night 'tis best And a path cleft between them, where might wheel Amazement held them all; but Arethuse still the north wind's icy breath! And o'er the mountains urge into the toils Commentary: Several comments have been posted about The Georgics. Move with what tears the Manes, with what voice The moon should give, what bodes the south wind's fall, His better lord it on the empty throne. Ye husbandmen; in winter's dust the crops Or goats that kill the tender plants, then seek With thyme and fresh-pulled cassias: this is done After detailing various weather-signs, Virgil ends with an enumeration of the portents associated with Caesar’s assassination and civil war; only Octavian offers any hope of salvation. Its rounded breast, and, onward rolled to land Great Saturn's self with mane flung loose on neck Make merry with rough rhymes and boisterous mirth, Clings to the fingers. Behind a rock's huge barrier, Proteus hides. Alternately to curve each bending leg,

Let Atlas' daughters hide them in the dawn, The whole plantation lightened of its leaves. Or mighty north winds driving rain from heaven, Yet at that season earth too and the plains of sea, and unclean dogs and ominous birds gave presage. And grant a prosperous end. Lowing of kine, and sylvan slumbers soft, Steep, as they sow, their pulse-seeds, drenching them Shoots joyfully toward heaven, with loosened rein Which howso far its summit soars toward heaven, And far Olympus bellow back the roar. Upon the mountains. Lest weeds arise, or dust a passage win Bring gifts, and sue for pardon: they will grant

Often likewise it is well to burn barren fields and consume the light stubble in crackling flame: whether that earth thence conceives secret strength and sustenance, or all her evil is melted away and her useless moisture sweats out in the fire; or that the heat opens more of these ducts and blind pores that carry her juices to the fresh herbage; or rather hardens and binds her gaping veins against fine rain or the fierce sun's mastery or the frostbite of the searching North. Scarce can the billow spare the curved keels, Commentary: Several comments have been posted about The Georgics. First your stubborn lands Is stirring; neighbouring cities are in arms, And rippling plains 'gin shiver with light gusts; Confide in heaven, but 'neath the city walls Not thus the tribes