Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heaven;Now will I sing thee, Bacchus, and, with thee,The forest's young plantations and the fruitOf slow-maturing olive. Hither haste,O Father of the wine-press; all things hereTeem with the bounties of thy hand; for theeWith viny autumn laden blooms the field,And foams the vintage high with brimming vats;Hither, O Father of the wine-press, come,And stripped of buskin stain thy bared limbsIn the new must with me.
Hactenus arvorum cultus et sidera caeli,nunc te, Bacche, canam, nec non silvestria tecumvirgulta et prolem tarde crescentis olivae.Huc, pater o Lenaee—tuis hic omnia plenamuneribus, tibi pampineo gravidus autumnofloret ager, spumat plenis vindemia labris—huc, pater o Lenaee, veni nudataque mustotingue novo mecum direptis crura cothurnis.
First, nature's lawFor generating trees is manifold;For some of their own force spontaneous spring,No hand of man compelling, and possessThe plains and river-windings far and wide,As pliant osier and the bending broom,Poplar, and willows in wan companiesWith green leaf glimmering gray; and some there beFrom chance-dropped seed that rear them, as the tallChestnuts, and, mightiest of the branching wood,Jove's Aesculus, and oaks, oracularDeemed by the Greeks of old. With some sprouts forthA forest of dense suckers from the root,As elms and cherries; so, too, a pigmy plant,Beneath its mother's mighty shade upshootsThe bay-tree of Parnassus. Such the modesNature imparted first; hence all the raceOf forest-trees and shrubs and sacred grovesSprings into verdure. Other means there are,Which use by method for itself acquired.One, sliving suckers from the tender frameOf the tree-mother, plants them in the trench;One buries the bare stumps within his field,Truncheons cleft four-wise, or sharp-pointed stakes;Some forest-trees the layer's bent arch await,And slips yet quick within the parent-soil;No root need others, nor doth the pruner's handShrink to restore the topmost shoot to earthThat gave it being. Nay, marvellous to tell,Lopped of its limbs, the olive, a mere stock,Still thrusts its root out from the sapless wood,And oft the branches of one kind we seeChange to another's with no loss to rue,Pear-tree transformed the ingrafted apple yield,And stony cornels on the plum-tree blush.
Principio arboribus varia est natura creandis.namque aliae nullis hominum cogentibus ipsaesponte sua veniunt camposque et flumina latecurva tenent, ut molle siler lentaeque genestae,populus et glauca canentia fronde salicta;pars autem posito surgunt de semine, ut altaecastaneae nemorumque Iovi quae maxima frondetaesculus atque habitae Grais oracula quercus.Pullulat ab radice aliis densissima silva,ut cerasis ulmisque; etiam Parnasia laurusparva sub ingenti matris se subicit umbra.Hos natura modos primum dedit, his genus omnesilvarum fruticumque viret nemorumque sacrorum.Sunt aliae, quas ipse via sibi repperit usus.Hic plantas tenero abscindens de corpore matrumdeposuit sulcis, hic stirpes obruit arvoquadrifidasque sudes et acuto robore vallos;silvarumque aliae pressos propaginis arcusexspectant et viva sua plantaria terra;nil radicis egent aliae summumque putatorhaud dubitat terrae referens mandare cacumen.Quin et caudicibus sectis—mirabile dictu—truditur e sicco radix oleagina ligno.Et saepe alterius ramos inpune videmusvertere in alterius mutatamque insita malaferre pirum et prunis lapidosa rubescere corna.
Come then, and learn what tilth to each belongsAccording to their kinds, ye husbandmen,And tame with culture the wild fruits, lest earthLie idle. O blithe to make all IsmarusOne forest of the wine-god, and to clotheWith olives huge Tabernus! And be thouAt hand, and with me ply the voyage of toilI am bound on, O my glory, O thou that artJustly the chiefest portion of my fame,Maecenas, and on this wide ocean launchedSpread sail like wings to waft thee. Not that IWith my poor verse would comprehend the whole,Nay, though a hundred tongues, a hundred mouthsWere mine, a voice of iron; be thou at hand,Skirt but the nearer coast-line; see the shoreIs in our grasp; not now with feigned songThrough winding bouts and tedious preludingsShall I detain thee.
Quare agite o proprios generatim discite cultus,agricolae, fructusque feros mollite colendo,neu segnes iaceant terrae. Iuvat Ismara Bacchoconserere atque olea magnum vestire Taburnum.Tuque ades inceptumque una decurre laborem,O decus, o famae merito pars maxima nostrae,Maecenas, pelagoque volans da vela patenti;non ego cuncta meis amplecti versibus opto,non, mihi si linguae centum sint oraque centum,ferrea vox; ades et primi lege litoris oram.In manibus terrae; non hic te carmine fictoatque per ambages et longa exorsa tenebo.
Those that lift their headInto the realms of light spontaneously,Fruitless indeed, but blithe and strenuous spring,Since Nature lurks within the soil. And yetEven these, should one engraft them, or transplantTo well-drilled trenches, will anon put ofTheir woodland temper, and, by frequent tilth,To whatso craft thou summon them, make speedTo follow. So likewise will the barren shaftThat from the stock-root issueth, if it beSet out with clear space amid open fields:Now the tree-mother's towering leaves and boughsDarken, despoil of increase as it grows,And blast it in the bearing. Lastly, thatWhich from shed seed ariseth, upward winsBut slowly, yielding promise of its shadeTo late-born generations; apples waneForgetful of their former juice, the grapeBears sorry clusters, for the birds a prey.Soothly on all must toil be spent, and allTrained to the trench and at great cost subdued.But reared from truncheons olives answer best,As vines from layers, and from the solid woodThe Paphian myrtles; while from suckers springBoth hardy hazels and huge ash, the treeThat rims with shade the brows of Hercules,And acorns dear to the Chaonian sire:So springs the towering palm too, and the firDestined to spy the dangers of the deep.But the rough arbutus with walnut-fruitIs grafted; so have barren planes ere nowStout apples borne, with chestnut-flower the beech,The mountain-ash with pear-bloom whitened o'er,And swine crunched acorns 'neath the boughs of elms.
Sponte sua quae se tollunt in luminis oras,infecunda quidem, sed laeta et fortia surgunt;quippe solo natura subest. Tamen haec quoque, si quisinserat aut scrobibus mandet mutata subactis,exuerint silvestrem animum cultuque frequentiin quascumque voles artis haud tarda sequentur.Nec non et sterilis, quae stirpibus exit ab imis,hoc faciat, vacuos si sit digesta per agros;nunc altae frondes et rami matris opacantcrescentique adimunt fetus uruntque ferentem.Iam quae seminibus iactis se sustulit arbostarda venit seris factura nepotibus umbram,pomaque degenerant sucos oblita prioreset turpis avibus praedam fert uva racemos.Scilicet omnibus est labor inpendendus et omnescogendae in sulcum ac multa mercede domandae.Sed truncis oleae melius, propagine vitesrespondent, solido Paphiae de robore myrtus;plantis et durae coryli nascuntur et ingensfraxinus Herculeaeque arbos umbrosa coronaeChaoniique patris glandes, etiam ardua palmanascitur et casus abies visura marinos.Inseritur vero et fetu nucis arbutus horrida,et steriles platani malos gessere valentis;castaneae fagus, ornusque incanuit alboflore piri glandemque sues fregere sub ulmis.
Nor is the method of inserting eyesAnd grafting one: for where the buds push forthAmidst the bark, and burst the membranes thin,Even on the knot a narrow rift is made,Wherein from some strange tree a germ they pen,And to the moist rind bid it cleave and grow.Or, otherwise, in knotless trunks is hewnA breach, and deep into the solid grainA path with wedges cloven; then fruitful slipsAre set herein, and—no long time—behold!To heaven upshot with teeming boughs, the treeStrange leaves admires and fruitage not its own.
Nec modus inserere atque oculos inponere simplex.Nam qua se medio trudunt de cortice gemmaeet tenuis rumpunt tunicas, angustus in ipsofit nodo sinus: huc aliena ex arbore germenincludunt udoque docent inolescere libro.Aut rursum enodes trunci resecantur et altefinditur in solidum cuneis via, deinde feracesplantae inmittuntur: nec longum tempus, et ingensexsilit ad caelum ramis felicibus arbosmiraturque novas frondes et non sua poma.
Nor of one kind alone are sturdy elms,Willow and lotus, nor the cypress-treesOf Ida; nor of self-same fashion springFat olives, orchades, and radiiAnd bitter-berried pausians, no, nor yetApples and the forests of Alcinous;Nor from like cuttings are Crustumian pearsAnd Syrian, and the heavy hand-fillers.Not the same vintage from our trees hangs down,Which Lesbos from Methymna's tendril plucks.Vines Thasian are there, Mareotids white,These apt for richer soils, for lighter those:Psithian for raisin-wine more useful, thinLageos, that one day will try the feetAnd tie the tongue: purples and early-ripes,And how, O Rhaetian, shall I hymn thy praise?Yet cope not therefore with Falernian bins.Vines Aminaean too, best-bodied wine,To which the Tmolian bows him, ay, and kingPhanaeus too, and, lesser of that name,Argitis, wherewith not a grape can vieFor gush of wine-juice or for length of years.Nor thee must I pass over, vine of Rhodes,Welcomed by gods and at the second board,Nor thee, Bumastus, with plump clusters swollen.But lo! how many kinds, and what their names,There is no telling, nor doth it boot to tell;Who lists to know it, he too would list to learnHow many sand-grains are by Zephyr tossedOn Libya's plain, or wot, when Eurus fallsWith fury on the ships, how many wavesCome rolling shoreward from the Ionian sea.
Praeterea genus haud unum nec fortibus ulmisnec salici lotoque neque Idaeis cyparissis,nec pingues unam in faciem nascuntur olivae,orchades et radii et amara pausia bacapomaque et Alcinoi silvae, nec surculus idemCrustumiis Syriisque piris gravibusque volemis.Non eadem arboribus pendet vindemia nostris,quam Methymnaeo carpit de palmite Lesbos;sunt Thasiae vites, sunt et Mareotides albae,pinguibus hae terris habiles, levioribus illae,et passo Psithia utilior tenuisque Lageostemptatura pedes olim vincturaque linguam,purpureae preciaeque, et quo te carmine dicam,Rhaetica? Nec cellis ideo contende Falernis.Sunt et Amineae vites, firmissima vina,Tmolius adsurgit quibus et rex ipse Phanaeus;Argitisque minor, cui non certaverit ullaaut tantum fluere aut totidem durare per annos.Non ego te, Dis et mensis accepta secundis,transierim, Rhodia, et tumidis, Bumaste, racemis.Sed neque quam multae species nec nomina quae sint,est numerus; neque enim numero conprendere refert;quem qui scire velit, Libyci velit aequoris idemdiscere quam multae Zephyro turbentur harenae,aut ubi navigiis violentior incidit Eurus,nosse, quot Ionii veniant ad litora fluctus.
Not that all soils can all things bear alike.Willows by water-courses have their birth,Alders in miry fens; on rocky heightsThe barren mountain-ashes; on the shoreMyrtles throng gayest; Bacchus, lastly, lovesThe bare hillside, and yews the north wind's chill.Mark too the earth by outland tillers tamed,And Eastern homes of Arabs, and tattooedGeloni; to all trees their native landsAllotted are; no clime but India bearsBlack ebony; the branch of frankincenseIs Saba's sons' alone; why tell to theeOf balsams oozing from the perfumed wood,Or berries of acanthus ever green?Of Aethiop forests hoar with downy wool,Or how the Seres comb from off the leavesTheir silky fleece? Of groves which India bears,Ocean's near neighbour, earth's remotest nook,Where not an arrow-shot can cleave the airAbove their tree-tops? yet no laggards they,When girded with the quiver! Media yieldsThe bitter juices and slow-lingering tasteOf the blest citron-fruit, than which no aidComes timelier, when fierce step-dames drug the cupWith simples mixed and spells of baneful power,To drive the deadly poison from the limbs.Large the tree's self in semblance like a bay,And, showered it not a different scent abroad,A bay it had been; for no wind of heavenIts foliage falls; the flower, none faster, clings;With it the Medes for sweetness lave the lips,And ease the panting breathlessness of age.
Nec vero terrae ferre omnes omnia possunt.fluminibus salices crassisque paludibus alninascuntur, steriles saxosis montibus orni;litora myrtetis laetissima; denique apertosBacchus amat collis, aquilonem et frigora taxi.Aspice et extremis domitum cultoribus orbemEoasque domos Arabum pictosque Gelonos:divisae arboribus patriae. Sola India nigrumfert ebenum, solis est turea virga Sabaeis.Quid tibi odorato referam sudantia lignobalsamaque et bacas semper frondentis acanthi?Quid nemora Aethiopum molli canentia lana,velleraque ut foliis depectant tenuia Seres;aut quos Oceano propior gerit India lucos,extremi sinus orbis, ubi aera vincere summumarboris haud ullae iactu potuere sagittae?Et gens illa quidem sumptis non tarda pharetris.Media fert tristis sucos tardumque saporemfelicis mali, quo non praesentius ullum,pocula si quando saevae infecere novercae,miscueruntque herbas et non innoxia verba,auxilium venit ac membris agit atra venena.Ipsa ingens arbos faciemque simillima lauro;et, si non alium late iactaret odorem,laurus erat; folia haud ullis labentia ventis;flos ad prima tenax; animas et olentia Mediora fovent illo et senibus medicantur anhelis.
But no, not Mede-land with its wealth of woods,Nor Ganges fair, and Hermus thick with gold,Can match the praise of Italy; nor Ind,Nor Bactria, nor Panchaia, one wide tractOf incense-teeming sand. Here never bullsWith nostrils snorting fire upturned the sodSown with the monstrous dragon's teeth, nor cropOf warriors bristled thick with lance and helm;But heavy harvests and the Massic juiceOf Bacchus fill its borders, overspreadWith fruitful flocks and olives. Hence aroseThe war-horse stepping proudly o'er the plain;Hence thy white flocks, Clitumnus, and the bull,Of victims mightiest, which full oft have led,Bathed in thy sacred stream, the triumph-pompOf Romans to the temples of the gods.Here blooms perpetual spring, and summer hereIn months that are not summer's; twice teem the flocks;Twice doth the tree yield service of her fruit.But ravening tigers come not nigh, nor breedOf savage lion, nor aconite betraysIts hapless gatherers, nor with sweep so vastDoth the scaled serpent trail his endless coilsAlong the ground, or wreathe him into spires.Mark too her cities, so many and so proud,Of mighty toil the achievement, town on townUp rugged precipices heaved and reared,And rivers undergliding ancient walls.Or should I celebrate the sea that lavesHer upper shores and lower? or those broad lakes?Thee, Larius, greatest and, Benacus, theeWith billowy uproar surging like the main?Or sing her harbours, and the barrier castAthwart the Lucrine, and how ocean chafesWith mighty bellowings, where the Julian waveEchoes the thunder of his rout, and throughAvernian inlets pours the Tuscan tide?A land no less that in her veins displaysRivers of silver, mines of copper ore,Ay, and with gold hath flowed abundantly.A land that reared a valiant breed of men,The Marsi and Sabellian youth, and, schooledTo hardship, the Ligurian, and with theseThe Volscian javelin-armed, the Decii too,The Marii and Camilli, names of might,The Scipios, stubborn warriors, ay, and thee,Great Caesar, who in Asia's utmost boundsWith conquering arm e'en now art fending farThe unwarlike Indian from the heights of Rome.Hail! land of Saturn, mighty mother thouOf fruits and heroes; 'tis for thee I dareUnseal the sacred fountains, and essayThemes of old art and glory, as I singThe song of Ascra through the towns of Rome.
sed neque Medorum, silvae ditissima, terra,nec pulcher Ganges atque auro turbidus Hermuslaudibus Italiae certent, non Bactra neque Inditotaque turiferis Panchaia pinguis harenis.Haec loca non tauri spirantes naribus igneminvertere satis inmanis dentibus hydrinec galeis densisque virum seges horruit hastis;sed gravidae fruges et Bacchi Massicus humorinplevere; tenent oleae armentaque laeta.Hinc bellator equus campo sese arduus infert;hinc albi, Clitumne, greges et maxima taurusvictima, saepe tuo perfusi flumine sacro,Romanos ad templa deum duxere triumphos.Hic ver adsiduum atque alienis mensibus aestasbis gravidae pecudes, bis pomis utilis arbos.At rabidae tigres absunt et saeva leonumsemina nec miseros fallunt aconita legentisnec rapit inmensos orbis per humum neque tantosquameus in spiram tractu se colligit anguis.Adde tot egregias urbes operumque laborem,tot congesta manu praeruptis oppida saxisfluminaque antiquos subter labentia muros.An mare, quod supra, memorem, quodque adluit infraanne lacus tantos? Te, Lari maxume, teque,fluctibus et fremitu adsurgens Benace marinoan memorem portus Lucrinoque addita claustraatque indignatum magnis stridoribus aequorIulia qua ponto longe sonat unda refusoTyrrhenusque fretis inmittitur aestus Avernis?Haec eadem argenti rivos aerisque metallaostendit venis atque auro plurima fluxit.Haec genus acre virum, Marsos pubemque Sabellamadsuetumque malo Ligurem Volscosque verutosextulit, haec Decios, Marios, magnosque Camillos,Scipiadas duros bello et te, maxume Caesar,qui nunc extremis Asiae iam victor in orisinbellem avertis Romanis arcibus Indum.Salve, magna parens frugum, Saturnia tellus,magna virum; tibi res antiquae laudis et artemingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontis,Ascraeumque cano Romana per oppida carmen.
Now for the native gifts of various soils,What powers hath each, what hue, what natural bentFor yielding increase. First your stubborn landsAnd churlish hill-sides, where are thorny fieldsOf meagre marl and gravel, these delightIn long-lived olive-groves to Pallas dear.Take for a sign the plenteous growth hard byOf oleaster, and the fields strewn wideWith woodland berries. But a soil that's rich,In moisture sweet exulting, and the plainThat teems with grasses on its fruitful breast,Such as full oft in hollow mountain-dellWe view beneath us—from the craggy heightsStreams thither flow with fertilizing mud—A plain which southward rising feeds the fernBy curved ploughs detested, this one dayShall yield thee store of vines full strong to gushIn torrents of the wine-god; this shall beFruitful of grapes and flowing juice like thatWe pour to heaven from bowls of gold, what timeThe sleek Etruscan at the altar blowsHis ivory pipe, and on the curved dishWe lay the reeking entrails. If to rearCattle delight thee rather, steers, or lambs,Or goats that kill the tender plants, then seekFull-fed Tarentum's glades and distant fields,Or such a plain as luckless Mantua lostWhose weedy water feeds the snow-white swan:There nor clear springs nor grass the flocks will fail,And all the day-long browsing of thy herdsShall the cool dews of one brief night repair.Land which the burrowing share shows dark and rich,With crumbling soil—for this we counterfeitIn ploughing—for corn is goodliest; from no fieldMore wains thou'lt see wend home with plodding steers;Or that from which the husbandman in spleenHas cleared the timber, and o'erthrown the copseThat year on year lay idle, and from the rootsUptorn the immemorial haunt of birds;They banished from their nests have sought the skies;But the rude plain beneath the ploughshare's strokeStarts into sudden brightness. For indeedThe starved hill-country gravel scarce serves the beesWith lowly cassias and with rosemary;Rough tufa and chalk too, by black water-wormsGnawed through and through, proclaim no soils besideSo rife with serpent-dainties, or that yieldSuch winding lairs to lurk in. That again,Which vapoury mist and flitting smoke exhales,Drinks moisture up and casts it forth at will,Which, ever in its own green grass arrayed,Mars not the metal with salt scurf of rust—That shall thine elms with merry vines enwreathe;That teems with olive; that shall thy tilth prove kindTo cattle, and patient of the curved share.Such ploughs rich Capua, such the coast that skirtsThy ridge, Vesuvius, and the Clanian flood,Acerrae's desolation and her bane.
Nunc locus arvorum ingeniis: quae robora cuique,quis color et quae sit rebus natura ferendis.Difficiles primum terrae collesque maligni,tenuis ubi argilla et dumosis calculus arvis,Palladia gaudent silva vivacis olivae.Indicio est tractu surgens oleaster eodemplurimus et strati bacis silvestribus agri.At quae pinguis humus dulcique uligine laeta,quique frequens herbis et fertilis ubere campus—qualem saepe cava montis convalle solemusdespicere; huc summis liquuntur rupibus amnesfelicemque trahunt limum—quique editus austroet filicem curvis invisam pascit aratris:hic tibi praevalidas olim multoque fluentissufficiet Baccho vitis, hic fertilis uvae,hic laticis, qualem pateris libamus et auro,inflavit cum pinguis ebur Tyrrhenus ad aras,lancibus et pandis fumantia reddimus exta.Sin armenta magis studium vitulosque tueriaut ovium fetum aut urentis culta capellas,saltus et saturi petito longinqua Tarentiet qualem infelix amisit Mantua campum,pascentem niveos herboso flumine cycnos;non liquidi gregibus fontes, non gramina deerunt;et, quantum longis carpent armenta diebus,exigua tantum gelidus ros nocte reponet.Nigra fere et presso pinguis sub vomere terraet cui putre solum,—namque hoc imitamur arando—optima frumentis; non ullo ex aequore cernesplura domum tardis decedere plaustra iuvencis;aut unde iratus silvam devexit aratoret nemora evertit multos ignava per annosantiquasque domos avium cum stirpibus imiseruit; illae altum nidis petiere relictis,at rudis enituit inpulso vomere campus.Nam ieiuna quidem clivosi glarea rurisvix humilis apibus casias roremque ministrat;et tophus scaber et nigris exesa chelydriscreta negant alios aeque serpentibus agrosdulcem ferre cibum et curvas praebere latebras.Quae tenuem exhalat nebulam fumosque volucriset bibit humorem et, cum volt, ex se ipsa remittitquaeque suo semper viridi se gramine vestitnec scabie et salsa laedit robigine ferrum:illa tibi laetis intexet vitibus ulmos,illa ferax oleo est, illam experiere colendoet facilem pecori et patientem vomeris unci.Talem dives arat Capua et vicina Vesevoora iugo et vacuis Clanius non aequus Acerris.
How each to recognize now hear me tell.Dost ask if loose or passing firm it be—Since one for corn hath liking, one for wine,The firmer sort for Ceres, none too looseFor thee, Lyaeus?—with scrutinizing eyeFirst choose thy ground, and bid a pit be sunkDeep in the solid earth, then cast the mouldAll back again, and stamp the surface smooth.If it suffice not, loose will be the land,More meet for cattle and for kindly vines;But if, rebellious, to its proper boundsThe soil returns not, but fills all the trenchAnd overtops it, then the glebe is gross;Look for stiff ridges and reluctant clods,And with strong bullocks cleave the fallow crust.Salt ground again, and bitter, as 'tis called—Barren for fruits, by tilth untamable,Nor grape her kind, nor apples their good nameMaintaining—will in this wise yield thee proof:Stout osier-baskets from the rafter-smoke,And strainers of the winepress pluck thee down;Hereinto let that evil land, with freshSpring-water mixed, be trampled to the full;The moisture, mark you, will ooze all away,In big drops issuing through the osier-withes,But plainly will its taste the secret tell,And with a harsh twang ruefully distortThe mouths of them that try it. Rich soil againWe learn on this wise: tossed from hand to handYet cracks it never, but pitch-like, as we hold,Clings to the fingers. A land with moisture rifeBreeds lustier herbage, and is more than meetProlific. Ah I may never such for meO'er-fertile prove, or make too stout a showAt the first earing! Heavy land or lightThe mute self-witness of its weight betrays.A glance will serve to warn thee which is black,Or what the hue of any. But hard it isTo track the signs of that pernicious cold:Pines only, noxious yews, and ivies darkAt times reveal its traces.
Nunc, quo quamque modo possis cognoscere, dicam.Rara sit an supra morem si densa requires—altera frumentis quoniam favet, altera Baccho,densa magis Cereri, rarissima quaeque Lyaeo—ante locum capies oculis alteque iubebisin solido puteum demitti omnemque reponesrursus humum et pedibus summas aequabis harenas.Si deerunt, rarum pecorique et vitibus almisaptius uber erit; sin in sua posse negabuntire loca et scrobibus superabit terra repletis,spissus ager; glaebas cunctantis crassaque tergaexspecta et validis terram proscinde iuvencis.Salsa autem tellus et quae perhibetur amara,frugibus infelix—ea nec mansuescit arandonec Baccho genus aut pomis sua nomina servat—tale dabit specimen: tu spisso vimine qualoscolaque prelorum fumosis deripe tectis;huc ager ille malus dulcesque a fontibus undaead plenum calcentur; aqua eluctabitur omnisscilicet, et grandes ibunt per vimina guttae;at sapor indicium faciet manifestus et oratristia temptantum sensu torquebit amaro.Pinguis item quae sit tellus, hoc denique pactodiscimus: haud umquam manibus iactata fatiscit,sed picis in morem ad digitos lentescit habendo.Humida maiores herbas alit, ipsaque iustolaetior. Ah nimium ne sit mihi fertilis illanec se praevalidam primis ostendat aristis!Quae gravis est, ipso tacitam se pondere prodit,quaeque levis. Promptum est oculis praediscere nigram,et quis cui color. At sceleratum exquirere frigusdifficile est: piceae tantum taxique nocentesinterdum aut hederae pandunt vestigia nigrae.
All these rulesRegarding, let your land, ay, long before,Scorch to the quick, and into trenches carveThe mighty mountains, and their upturned clodsBare to the north wind, ere thou plant thereinThe vine's prolific kindred. Fields whose soilIs crumbling are the best: winds look to that,And bitter hoar-frosts, and the delver's toilUntiring, as he stirs the loosened glebe.But those, whose vigilance no care escapes,Search for a kindred site, where first to rearA nursery for the trees, and eke wheretoSoon to translate them, lest the sudden shockFrom their new mother the young plants estrange.Nay, even the quarter of the sky they brandUpon the bark, that each may be restored,As erst it stood, here bore the southern heats,Here turned its shoulder to the northern pole;So strong is custom formed in early years.Whether on hill or plain 'tis best to plantYour vineyard first inquire. If on some plainYou measure out rich acres, then plant thick;Thick planting makes no niggard of the vine;But if on rising mound or sloping bill,Then let the rows have room, so none the lessEach line you draw, when all the trees are set,May tally to perfection. Even as oftIn mighty war, whenas the legion's lengthDeploys its cohorts, and the column standsIn open plain, the ranks of battle set,And far and near with rippling sheen of armsThe wide earth flickers, nor yet in grisly strifeFoe grapples foe, but dubious 'twixt the hostsThe war-god wavers; so let all be rangedIn equal rows symmetric, not aloneTo feed an idle fancy with the view,But since not otherwise will earth affordVigour to all alike, nor yet the boughsHave power to stretch them into open space.
his animadversis terram multo ante mementoexcoquere et magnos scrobibus concidere montis,ante supinatas aquiloni ostendere glaebas,quam laetum infodias vitis genus. Optima putriarva solo: id venti curant gelidaeque pruinaeet labefacta movens robustus iugera fossor.Ac si quos haud ulla viros vigilantia fugit,ante locum similem exquirunt, ubi prima pareturarboribus seges et quo mox digesta feratur,mutatam ignorent subito ne semina matrem.Quin etiam caeli regionem in cortice signant,ut, quo quaeque modo steterit, qua parte caloresAustrinos tulerit, quae terga obverterit axi,restituant: adeo in teneris consuescere multum est.Collibus an plano melius sit ponere vitem,quaere prius. Si pinguis agros metabere campi,densa sere; in denso non segnior ubere Bacchus;sin tumulis adclive solum collisque supinos,indulge ordinibus, nec setius omnis in unguemarboribus positis secto via limite quadret.Ut saepe ingenti bello cum longa cohortisexplicuit legio et campo stetit agmen aperto,directaeque acies, ac late fluctuat omnisaere renidenti tellus, necdum horrida miscentproelia, sed dubius mediis Mars errat in armis:omnia sint paribus numeris dimensa viarum;non animum modo uti pascat prospectus inanem,sed quia non aliter viris dabit omnibus aequasterra neque in vacuum poterunt se extendere rami.