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(From Georgics)
Translated by William Sotheby
YET nor the Median groves, nor rivers rolled, | |
| Ganges and Hermus, o’er their beds of gold, | |
| Nor Ind, nor Bactra, nor the blissful land | |
| Where incense spreads o’er rich Panchaia’s sand, | |
| Nor all that fancy paints in fabled lays, | 5 |
| O native Italy! transcend thy praise. | |
| Though here no bulls beneath the enchanted yoke | |
| With fiery nostrils o’er the furrow smoke, | |
| No hydra teeth embattled harvest yield, | |
| Spear and bright helmet bristling o’er the field; | 10 |
| Yet golden corn each laughing valley fills, | |
| The vintage reddens on a thousand hills, | |
| Luxuriant olives spread from shore to shore, | |
| And flocks unnumbered range the pastures o’er. | |
| Hence the proud war-horse rushes on the foe, | 15 |
| Clitumnus! hence thy herds, more white than snow, | |
| And stately bull, that, of gigantic size, | |
| Supreme of victims on the altar lies, | |
| Bathed in thy sacred stream oft led the train, | |
| When Rome in pomp of triumph decked the fane. | 20 |
| Here Spring perpetual leads the laughing hours, | |
| And Winter wears a wreath of Summer flowers; | |
| The o’erloaded branch twice fills with fruits the year, | |
| And twice the teeming flocks their offspring rear. | |
| Yet here no lion breeds, no tiger strays, | 25 |
| No tempting aconite the touch betrays, | |
| No monstrous snake the uncoiling volume trails, | |
| Or gathers, orb on orb, his iron scales. | |
| But many a peopled city towers around, | |
| And many a rocky cliff with castle crowned, | 30 |
| And many an antique wall, whose hoary brow | |
| O’ershades the flood, that guards its base below. | |
| Say, shall I add, enclosed on every side | |
| What seas defend thee, and what lakes divide? | |
| Thine, mighty Larius? or, with surging waves, | 35 |
| Where, fierce as ocean, vexed Benacus raves? | |
| Havens and ports, the Lucrine’s added mole, | |
| Seas, that enraged along their bulwark roll, | |
| Where Julian waves reject the indignant tide, | |
| And Tuscan billows down Avernus glide? | 40 |
| Here brass and silver ores rich veins expose, | |
| And pregnant mines exhaustless gold enclose. | |
| Blest in thy race, in battle unsubdued | |
| The Marsian youth, and Sabine’s hardy brood, | |
| By generous toil the bold Ligurian’s steeled, | 45 |
| And spear-armed Volsci that disdain to yield: | |
| Camilli, Marii, Decii, swell thy line, | |
| And, thunderbolts of war, each Scipio, thine! | |
| Thou Cæsar! chief, whose sword the East o’erpowers, | |
| And the tamed Indian drives from Roman towers. | 50 |
| All hail, Saturnian earth! hail, loved of fame, | |
| Land rich in fruits, and men of mighty name! | |
| For thee I dare the sacred founts explore, | |
| For thee the rules of ancient art restore, | |
| Themes, once to glory raised, again rehearse, | 55 |
| And pour through Roman towns the Ascræan verse. | |
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