THE

GEORGICS

OF

PUBLIUS VIRGILIUS MARO,

TRANSLATED INTO

ENGLISH.

}

THE

GEORGICS

OF

PUBLIUS VIRGILIUS MARO.

BOOK I.

WHAT makes our harvests blithe, beneath what star

Earth to upturn, Mæcenas, and with elms

To wed our vines, 'tis meet-what be the care
Of beeves, what nurture to maintain the flock-
In bees, how vast a craft, the thrifty bees.
Hence will I take to sing. O ye, the world's
Most glorious lights, which, as through heav'n it
glides,

Escort the year, Bacchus and fost❜ring Ceres,
If by your gift the earth Chaonian mast
For the rich ear exchang'd, and goblets mix'd
Of Achelous with the fresh-found grapes

--

And ye, the rustics' favouring Powers, ye Fauns, (Advance in tune your foot, both Fauns and Dryad maids,),

G

Gifts of your hand I chant. And thou, O thou,
For whom at first the snorting courser Earth
Diswombed, by thy massy trident smitten,
Neptune; and haunter thou of groves, for whom
Cea's rich copses thrice a hundred steers
Snow-white, are browsing — Of thyself thy

grove

Paternal leaving, and Lyceum's glades,
Pan, of our sheep the guardian, if to thee
Thy Mænalus be dear, assist, O Lord
Of Tegea, with favour; and the olive's
Inventress, thou Minerva, and the boy,
Revealer of the barbed plough : and thou
Bearing thy tender cypress, root uptorn,
Sylvan, and
ye both Gods, and Goddesses,
All, whose delight it is our fields to guard,
Both ye, who fresh-sprung fruits, with no sown
seed,

Rear up,

and ye who on the seed-lands shed From heaven the copious shower; and chiefly Thou,

Whom in far distant hour, what synod-halls
Of deities will hold, is undecreed

Whether our cities, Cæsar, thou would'st fain
Inspect, and take the charge of earthly realms,
And thee the mighty globe, as donor hail

Of fruits, and Lord of storms, circling thy brows With thine own mother's myrtle,

or as God Thou com'st of the unfathomable sea, And thy divinity, and none but thine, Sailors adore

- to thee remotest Thule

Be serf, and Tethys for her daughter's spouse
Buy thee with all her waves; or as a star
New ris'n thou add'st thee to the lagging
months,

There where a space Erigone between
And the pursuing Scorpion-claws is oped-
Spontaneous for thee even now his arms
The blazing scorpion gathers in, and leaves
More than thy share of heav'n-whate'er thou be,
For let not Tart'rus hope for thee as king,
Nor light there on thee so accurst a lust

Of rule, though Greece th' Elysian plains admire, Nor when resought, recks Proserpine to follow Her mother grant a smooth career, and bold Howe'er they be, bow to our tasks commenc'd; And witless of all art, the swains, with me Pitying, thine office enter; and with vows Accustom thee e'en now to be invok'd.

In spring still young, when cold from hoarfrost heights,

Moisture is melting; and 'neath zephyr mould'ring
The glebe itself unbinds, with sunken plough
Begin e'en then my bull for me to groan,
And in the furrow worn, my share to gleam.
That crop at last unto the vows responds
Of the rapacious hind, twice which the sun,
Twice the cold frosts has felt that farmers'

granges

Measureless crops have burst. But ere with steel We cleave the plain unknown, winds and the sky's

All changeful mood be it our care to learn
Beforehand, and as practiced of our sires
The tillage and the characters of spots,

And what each region bears, and each rejects. Here corn-crops, there spring with more blessing grapes;

Of trees elsewhere the shoots, and all unbidden Burst into verdure grasses. See'st thou not How Tmolus saffron odours, Ind doth send