pg 25BOOK TWO

• pg 26 Link 1pg 27 Thus far I have been singing of working the land, and stars in heaven.
• Link 2So now I turn to you, Bacchus, you and the thick thickets people think of when they think of you,
• 3and, while I'm at it, to what the slow-growing olive gives.
• 4Be with me now, O Patron of the vine, here where your copious gifts abound,
• Link 5where by your grace, in every autumn, the country swells with your full flower
• 6and the vintage foams to overflow the vats.
• Link 7Be with me now, O Patron of the vine, tear off your buskins
• 8and come paddling with me in this season's musty dye!
• Link 9Lesson one. The ways to propagate a tree are many.
• Link 10Some take root on their own, with no one's help,
• 11and put themselves about the place, throughout the plains,
• 12by river bends—the supple willow and the bendy broom,
• 13poplars, and a copse of sallies with their silver undersides.
• Link 14But others spring from seeds they've dropped, such as the chestnut,
• Editor’s Note15or that oak whose greenery adorns the groves of Jupiter,*
• Editor’s Note16and the other one* that Greeks believe can tell what is to come.
• 17And others still whose undergrowth shoots up along the root,
• Editor’s Note Link 18the cherry and the elm, while laurels of Parnassus,*
• 19seedlings still, shelter in their mother's shade.
• 20These methods were first Nature's way for each and every tree
• 21in woods and sacred groves to thrive and flourish.
• 22Now there are other ways, found out by trial and error.
• 23Some have taken slips from the parent tree's tender trunk
• 24and landed them in trenches; some planted cuttings in a field,
• 25their ends divided into quarters, held up by hardwood stakes.
• 26  And there are others, forest trees, which call for layering
• 27to come into their own at home in soil they're used to;
• pg 2828 and others still which have no need for roots, and he who prunes them
• 29doesn't have to wonder as he entrusts back to the ground a cutting
• Link 30from the upper branches. Why, even when you've chopped an olive tree—
• 31can you believe it?—buds burgeon from its seasoned stump.
• Link 32How often have we seen the bough of one tree turned into another,
• 33and none the worse for wear—the pear transformed to issue apples,
• 34the plum branch blushing with its stonehard cherries?
• Link 35So, come on, countrymen, and learn the character of every species,
• 36make wild fruits sweeter through your care, and let no land lie waste.
• Link 37What could proffer more reward than setting vines across the slopes of Ismarus
• Editor’s Note38and covering the hillsides of Taburnus* with a cloak of olives?
• Link 39And you, Maecenas, stand beside me now in this, the work I've taken on,
• Link 40you to whom the largest fraction of my fame belongs by right,
• Link 41have no second thoughts before the great adventure into which I've launched myself.
• Link 42  Not that I could ever hope to feature all things in my verses—
• Link 43not even if I had a hundred mouths, as many ways of speech,
• Link 44and a voice as strong as iron. Stand by me now—as we proceed along the shoreline,
• 45land close to hand. I'll waste none of your time with made-up rhymes,
• 46or riddles, or prolonged preambles.
• Link 47  Those trees which of their own accord rear themselves into the realm of light
• Link 48mature unfruitful—that's a fact—though otherwise they're sound and strong,
• 49and that's due to the quality of soil. And even these,
• Link 50grafted to another or set carefully in a well-worked bed,
• pg 29 Link 51 will outgrow their wildwood ways and with attentive care
• 52will toe the line of what you have laid down for them.
• Link 53In fact, those volunteers, sprouting from the base of trees,
• 54will do the same, if you set them out, that is, in other spaces,
• Link 55but if you don't, the parent tree's looming leaves and branches
• 56will smother them and nip in the bud their whole ability to bear.
• Link 57Indeed, that said, the tree that rears itself from windfalls
• 58comes on half-heartedly and, preserving nought but shade for future generations,
• Link 59its fruit will be a thing of nothing, its erstwhile flavour long forgotten,
• 60and vines brought on this way bear only sorry sets of grapes, booty for birds.
• Link 61  It's a fact and true—all trees cry out for work,
• 62you'll have to train them in trenches, however trying that may be.
• Link 63Olive trees fare best when grown on the trunk, vines by that practice
• Link 64we've named layering, Paphian myrtles best from solid stems;
• 65from slips, the healthy hazel, the mighty ash,
• 66and the poplar out of which Hercules once made himself a garland,
• Link 67just like the sacred oaks, the sky-high palm,
• 68and the fir ahead of which lie disasters of the deep.
• Link 69And, yes, through grafting, the shaggy strawberry dispenses walnuts,
• Link 70and barren planes have borne a healthy pick of apples,
• 71chestnut trees have sponsored beeches, and pear blossom whitened
• Link 72manna ash, while underneath an elm sows have prospered on a feed of acorns.
• 73These are not straightforward acts, grafting and implanting.
• 74You see, when buds develop inside the bark and split its skin
• 75a narrow pocket forms right on the knot.
• Link 76To this you should affix the scion,
• 77coaxing it to meld into the sappy rind.
• 78But knot-free trunks you cut back all the way
• Link 79and into the solid bole you etch deep wedges.
• pg 3080 Next, insert those slips that are likelier to bear—and in jig time
• 81a mighty tree is starting up to heaven, its branches jubilant,
• Link 82astounded by new foliage and fruits which aren't its own.
• Link 83And then you'll find there's more than one kind of elm,
• Link 84and willow, and lotus tree, and the cypresses of Ida,
• 85more than a single species of oily olive—
• 86this comes in every shape and size and every shade of bitterness.
• Editor’s Note87There are all sorts of apples in the orchards of Alcinous;* the shoot that grows
• Editor’s Note88the pear from Crustumine wouldn't bear the Tarentine* nor those that are each one a handful.
• Link 89Nor are they one and the same, the vintage grapes that drape our arbours,
• 90as those they pick in Lesbos from the tendrils of Methymna,
• 91or those in Thasos off the coast of Thrace, or paler breeds from Egypt.
• 92Some suit a fertile soil, some a lighter sort.
• 93Psythian makes best raisin-wine, while Lagean leaves you footless—just like that!—
• 94and ties your tongue when you least expect it.
• Editor’s Note95Purple grapes, or those that ripen first—and, oh, the fruit of Rhaetia,*
• 96what song of mine could do you justice? Fine as you are, don't think yourself
• Link 97the match of those stored in Falernian cellars. Aminnean wines, full-bodied with a long finish,
• 98surpass that of Tmolus and even Phanae's finest, and, of course, the humbler Argite,
• 99though none can rival this for its great yield
• 100or all the years it lasts in prime condition.
• 101  Don't think I would omit the wine of Rhodes, fit for gods
• 102and saved till last, or Bumastus with its lavish clusters.
• 103But there's no number for the sorts of wine nor names
• 104for each of them, and little to be gained by trying to concoct the list.
• pg 31105 Who'd know them all would know how many grains of sand
• 106the west wind pitches through Saharan wastes,
• Editor’s Note107how many waves* break on the Adriatic shore
• 108when east winds smash against a fleet of ships at sea.
• Link 109Not that every soil can bear all types of things.
• 110Willows grow by river banks, alders root
• 111in swampy depths, the mountain ash on stony heights.
• Link 112Myrtles flourish by the shore, while—here it is—Bacchus adores
• 113wide-open uplands, and yew a chilly northern aspect.
• Link 114Turn your eyes to the ends of earth and those who till its acres—
• Editor’s Note115the homes of Arabs in the east, Scythian tribes* with painted bodies.
• 116Each nation has specific trees. None but the Indies grow
• 117ebony, none but Arabia its sticks of incense.
• 118What need is there for me—because you know already—to mention
• 119fragrant resin exuded by the balsam or the pods of evergreen acacia?
• 120Or the cotton fields of Ethiopia,
• Editor’s Note121or how the Chinese* people comb silky fleeces from the leaves?
• 122Or mention forests, contiguous to the ocean, that are another pride of India,
• 123or at the last outpost of earth the trees so tall
• 124that none could fire arrows to their tips, however hard he tries,
• 125and there they're no mean marksmen when it comes to taking up the bow.
• 126  That bitter fruit, the citron, with its aftertaste,
• Editor’s Note127is a product of Media*—and there's no better help at hand
• Link 128to wash the system of its toxins when,
• 129with a mess of herbs and more malignant hexes,
• 130a wicked stepmother spikes your drink.
• 131The tree itself's a mighty one, the image of a laurel,
• 132and, if it weren't for the discrepant scent it casts so far,
• 133you'd argue it's a laurel. No wind can make it shed its leaves,
• 134its blossom has a stubborn hold. The Medes use it to cure
• Link 135foul odours in the mouth and treat shortness of breath in older people.
• pg 32 Link 136  But neither the forests of Media, richest of lands,
• 137nor glorious Ganges, nor even Hermus rattling with alluvial gold,
• 138begin to match all that is due our praise in Italy.
• 139          No, nor Bactra, nor the Indies, nor Arabia and all its sands opulent with incense.
• 140  For this is land, this land of ours, no oxen ever turned with ploughs,
• 141their nostrils flaring flames, nor where a dragon's teeth were sown,
• Editor’s Note Link 142nor where a human harvest trembled—in ranks of helmets and serries of spears.*
• 143Rather, it proliferates with produce and fine wines of Monte Massico;
• Link 144olives abound, and bullocks in full bloom.
• 145From here the warhorse struts across the battlefield.
• Editor’s Note146From here, Clitumnus,* came the washed-white flocks and the bull that was
• 147primed for the sacrifice, those animals that often bathed in your holy waters
• 148and drew to the temples of the gods throngs who celebrated Roman triumphs.
• 149Here it's constant spring—and summer out of season.
• 150Twice cattle calve every year and twice the apple trees present their plenty.
• 151  And—it must be said—there's no sign here of raging tigers or lions'
• Link 152seed, breed, or generation, or of monkshood that tricks anyone unfortunate to pick it;
• 153neither does the scaly serpent drag itself through the land
• 154in endless circles or rear itself in threatening coils.
• Link 155Think of the shining cities and the accomplishments of men,
• 156towns created by such effort on steepling rocks
• 157with rivers rumbling underneath their ancient walls.
• 158Is there any need for me to mention the seas that wash above it and below,
• pg 33159 or its great lakes—you, Larius, the greatest of them all,
• 160or Benacus with crashing waves, just like a sea?
• Link 161Is there any need for me to mention the havens and the reef's protection
• Editor’s Note162of Lucrine,* as they aggravate the sea's resentments
• 163where waves, repulsed, resound from far across the Sound of Julius
• Link 164and drive Tyrrhenian tides through the channels of Avernus?
• 165  Deep in the veins of this land silver shows, and copper mines;
• Link 166its rivers run rich with gold.
• Link 167Hers are the most intrepid men—fierce Marsians, and Samnite stock;
• Editor’s Note168Ligurians, misfortune's friends; Volscian lancers*
• Link 169and the Decii she produced; tribes of Marius and great Camillus;
• Editor’s Note Link 170the battle-hardened Scipios,* and you yourself, Caesar, first of all mankind,
• Link 171you who, already champion of Asia's furthest bounds,
• Editor’s Note172rebuffs the craven Indian* from the arched portals of the capital.
• Link 173Hail to thee, Italy, holy mother of all that grows,
• Link 174mother of men—in your honour I plunge into material and measures
• Link 175prized in days of old, daring to divulge the hallowed sources
• Link 176and sing a hymn to works and days through the towns of Rome.
• Link 177Now to the quality of land in any place—what's best about it,
• 178its tints and textures, and its capacity for produce.
• Link 179First that rugged country, those mean slopes,
• Link 180stony soil, shallow loam, a world of brambles—
• Link 181a happy home for long-lived olives.
• 182One sure sign of such a place is oleaster in profusion,
• 183its berries veritably blanketing the ground.
• Link 184  But loamy land, that holds the spills of hills and rain,
• 185a plain enhanced with plants and grass, proud teats of growth,
• 186the like of which we're used to seeing when we gaze
• 187down into deep valleys (into which, from heights of cliffs, rivers spout
• pg 34188 contributing the gift of mud), or high, south-facing ground
• Link 189that's liable to grow the curved share's foe—that is bracken—
• 190such soil will one day proffer hale and hearty vines
• Link 191and plenteous wine from bulging bunches,
• Link 192a flood of grape juices, such as we pour for gods from golden goblets
• 193as seen on altar carvings when a plump Etruscan plays his ivory pipe
• 194and, on straining spears, we make our offerings of steaming entrails.
• Link 195  That said, if rearing calves and fattening lambs is what
• Link 196you care to do, or even goats that rip the roots of all that grows,
• Link 197try the wooded fields and open spaces at Tarentum
• 198and rolling plains such as Mantua was misfortunate enough to lose,
• 199where graceful swans are flourishing in weedy waters.
• Link 200There's no end there to feed and drink for stock:
• 201what they crop in the course of one long day
• 202dew will restore in the chill hours of one short night.
• 203  As like as not, ground that's black when it's subjected to the share,
• 204whose soil is friable (the sort we aim to reproduce by turning it),
• 205that's best for corn; you'll nowhere see more waggonfuls
• 206dragged home by struggling bullocks;
• Link 207that, or lands from which a careless farmer carried timber off,
• 208laid waste to woods that had stood tall for years on years
• Link 209and wrecked the ancient habitats of birds by ripping up
• 210roots and all. Their nestlings left, their mothers made for high sky,
• 211but those once straggly acres blossom now behind your team.
• 212  You'll get gravel in a hilly place, that scarcely serves
• 213surfeit of lowly spurge or rosemary to feed the bees;
• 214and riddled tufa, and chalk well worn by dour watersnakes,
• 215make plain there is no other place supplying reptiles
• 216with such fills of food as they prefer, nor proffering such hidey-holes as they'd kill for.
• Link 217  Land that tosses off the whiffs of mist
• pg 35218 and breathes in dew and breathes it out again at will,
• 219and dresses always in its green attire,
• 220and doesn't tarnish tools with rust or marks of minerals—
• Link 221that's the land for growing vines to trail around your elms and for big yields of olives;
• Link 222give it a go—you'll find it's in good heart for grazing
• 223or for submitting to the plough's advances.
• 224Among all that Capua possesses, it has that kind of land to work
• Editor’s Note225along the ridges of Vesuvius, and Clanius whose floods dispeopled Acerrae.*
• Link 226Listen. Here's how you'll tell the sort of soil you're dealing with.
• 227If it's a compact one you need, or one more porous
• 228(one's good for corn, one for vines,
• 229dedicate the denser one to Ceres, the looser one to Bacchus),
• 230trust your eyes to be the judge—and order that a hole be dug
• 231deep in the ground. Then backfill all the earth
• 232and trample flat. A shortfall?—it's a light soil,
• Link 233fit for herds and flocks, or healthy vines.
• 234A surplus?—leftover land when you've refilled
• 235the trench—and you have heavy land on hand—
• 236all that's in store is sods and clods and awkward ridges:
• 237prepare to break that ground with sturdy oxen.
• 238  As for that land that brings tears to the eyes, 'bitter' land as locals say
• 239(inhospitable to harvests, that no amount of ploughing sweetens),
• 240where vines won't live up to their name and apples aren't worth mentioning,
• 241here's how you'll recognize it—reach to your reeky rafters
• Link 242and take down the thickly woven baskets and wicker colanders for wine;
• 243with fresh well water mix in that offending earth
• Link 244and pack it to the brim; as you'd expect, the moisture
• 245dribbles through in heavy drops.
• Link 246The tip of the tongue of anyone who takes on to try it
• pg 36 Link 247 will tell the tale, his turned-up mouth squirming with the taste.
• 248And so, in short, a richer soil is tested, too—
• 249toss it from hand to hand and it won't crack or crumble,
• 250no, it clings to fingers just like pitch.
• Link 251  Soggy soil gives massive growth, more than's natural.
• Link 252Preserve me from such profusions,
• 253or such excess when new shoots show!
• 254Whether soil is light or heavy you'll know without a word.
• 255A glance will tell black earth, or whatever colour
• 256it turns out to be. It's harder far to figure out
• Link 257earth that's cursed to be cold, though now and then giant pines,
• Link 258poisonous yews, and dark climbs of ivy give a clue.
• 259  Keep all this in mind. Let moisture burn off from the ground,
• 260divide the uplands into trenches,
• 261turn over any clods of earth to face winds from the north—
• Link 262all this before you set your sprigs of vine. A crumbly soil
• 263is best of all—broken down by grace of frosts and freezing winds,
• 264and the ongoing toil of diggers who have worked the plot, perch by perch and rood by rood.
• Link 265  But those whose eyes watch everything miss nothing.
• 266Begin by searching out two soils that are the same in which to start your seedlings
• 267in order that when, by and by, you transplant them
• 268they won't feel any difference from what surrounds their mother tree.
• 269What's more—you print the mark of compass points onto the bark
• 270to show which way each used to face and know which bore the heat
• 271of southern suns, which kept its back hunched to the north,
• Link 272so deep ingrained are habits formed in younger days.
• Link 273  Ask yourself, before you start, whether it's best to place your vines
• 274on rising ground, or flat. If it's a fertile plain you plan to set
• 275lay out your plants together. Close sowing won't put brakes on Bacchus.
• pg 37 Link 276 But if it's land that rises up to touch the sky, or hills that reach into the distance,
• 277be generous with room between the rows. Make sure that they run parallel
• Editor’s Note278and still maintain right angles* with the boundary lines,
• Link 279the way in war you'd often see a legion massed in ranks,
• Link 280its cohorts standing—and standing out—on open ground,
• Link 281aligned and at the ready, the everywhere just like a glittering stretch of sea,
• 282and the flash of bronze, the clash of conflict still not started,
• Link 283though the god of war roams edgily, in and out among battalions.
• Link 284  Let all the avenues be equal,
• Link 285not only so an idle eye might linger on the view
• 286but because no other method gets the earth to give in matching measures
• 287and grants the boughs free rein and the run of air.
• 288  And you'll wonder maybe how far down to dig.
• Link 289I'd be happy, I believe, to set the vines in shallow trenches.
• 290But trees need to be driven deeper, and none more than
• 291the dun must oak which holds its head to heaven,
• 292with as much above the ground as its roots below delve into the pits of Tartarus.
• Link 293And so it can't be overthrown by wintry weather, gusts of wind
• 294or spills of rains, as it stands undaunted, outlasting lives
• 295of sons and grandsons, a vanquisher of ages.
• 296Far and wide it spreads its sturdy boughs, its branches hanging,
• 297and in their midst its trunk, the mainstay of its massive shade.
• Link 298  Whatever else you do, don't have your vineyard face toward the setting sun;
• Link 299sow no hazels in the rows; don't pinch the main part
• 300of the shoot, nor prune the topmost splays of trees—
• 301they love the earth so tenderly—you mustn't brush against a sapling
• 302even with blunt instruments; don't introduce wild olive stakes.
• 303  For careless shepherds often cause a fire by letting fall a spark
• 304that smoulders unobserved beneath the oily bark
• 305and then runs riot among the leaves, racing
• pg 38306 its rowdy roar as it chases sideways on and up,
• 307lording it over every branch and the tips of every trunk,
• 308enveloping the wood in flames and belching skywards clouds
• 309of soot-filled smoke, the more so if a gale spins through
• 310the forest roof and winds rush in to fan the blaze.
• 311  When the like of this occurs, plants give up the ghost.
• Link 312Burn grafted trees to the roots, and they're left with nothing left to give,
• 313nothing their own. Cut to the quick, they'll never send the same green shoots
• 314out from deep below the ground. Oleaster that's all leaf and little fruit stands to triumph.
• 315  Pay no heed to anyone, however well he's versed in plant production,
• 316who tells you to begin to plough rock-solid land while north winds still
• 317bare their teeth. When winter seals the countryside
• 318broadcast corn can't get a foothold in the soil.
• Link 319It's spring's first flush that's best for sowing vines,
• 320when that bright bird returns, the bane of lanky snakes,
• 321or, if not then, the first cold snap of autumn, before the sun's
• 322fiery steeds have touched on winter, although, in truth, the summer's gone already.
• Link 323Spring it is, spring that's good to the core of the wood, to the leaves of groves,
• 324spring that reawakens soil and coaxes seeds to fruitfulness.
• Editor’s Note Link 325It's then almighty father, Air, marries the earth*
• Link 326and penetrates her with prolific showers, and, their bodies joined
• 327as one, unbridles life's potential.
• Link 328  The woodlands off the beaten track reverberate with singing birds
• 329and, right on time, cattle come into their season—
• 330the countryside stands to deliver—and in the warmth of western breezes
• 331the plains let down their very breasts; a gentle wash infuses everything
• 332and new growth ventures to believe it's safe beneath the young,
• pg 39333 still unfamiliar sun, and vine shoots fear no southern gales
• 334nor roaring northerlies that scour rain clouds from the sky;
• Link 335rather, they prompt their buds to boldness and leaves to colour
• Link 336everywhere. That days were not that different at the dawning
• 337of the world I can easily believe, nor proceeded differently.
• Link 338Then it was spring, all basked in spring,
• 339and winter's winds bit their tongue—
• 340all this when livestock first unclosed their eyes
• 341and man, begot of rocks, first held up his head,
• 342with creatures loosed to roam woodscape and stars to ramble skies.
• 343  Indeed, how could such tender growth survive vicissitudes
• 344if there were not between the cold and warmth a spell of dreamlike quiet,
• 345when heaven's kindness brought its gift of ease?
• 346What's more, whenever you set down your slips
• 347don't forget to land them well,
• 348or dig in around them bits of pervious stone and broken shells.
• 349It's known well that waters will soak through them
• 350and their gentle vapours spread to pick the plants' spirits up.
• 351Men have experimented by laying slabs and broken tiles
• 352to offer them protection from the pouring rain or, even, on those days
• Link 353the Dog Star's heat intensifies to parch and crack the soil.
• 354  When you've your seedlings put to bed you've still to go over the ground,
• 355time and again, up to where the vine appears, scuffling soil
• 356with your clawed hoe, to plough the earth steadily
• 357and steer your straining oxen up and down the vineyard rows.
• Link 358Then prepare the pliant reeds, whittled sticks and stakes of ash,
• 359the sturdy forked supports through whose assistance
• 360they can begin to climb fearless of wind
• Link 361and fit themselves to the crowns of elms.
• Link 362And all the while they're putting out their fragile leaves
• Link 363treat the shoots with gentlest care, and while their branches
• 364venture high, given free rein in the sky,
• pg 40365 don't even glance against them with the pruning hook's keen edge—
• 366no, use your fingertips to pluck this one here, and that one there.
• Link 367And in due course, when they've their arms around those trees
• 368(a strong embrace), it's time to trim their tops, time
• 369to crop their branches (prior to this they'll wilt before any iron implement),
• 370impose your will and curb their wayward leaders.
• 371There are hedges to be laid, to keep out each and any beast,
• 372especially when the leaves are delicate and unaccustomed to attack,
• 373winter's cruelty or the worst extremes of summer,
• 374not to mention rampant buffalo and deer nibbling havoc there,
• 375or sheep and brawly heifers that eat their fill.
• 376No winter weather, its hardest frosts,
• 377nor summer's heat that splits the stones,
• 378did hurt to them to equal herds and flocks,
• 379their toothmarks' harm, the scars they've inscribed in the bark.
• Link 380  And they're the why, such transgressions, a goat is sacrificed
• 381on every altar to the wine god—since our elders started to stage plays
• 382and the sons of Theseus rewarded talent along the highways and the byways
• 383and, with drink taken, took to hopping here and there,
• 384a dance on greasy hides, and toppling in soft grass.
• 385So, too, Ausonian settlers—who came from Troy—
• 386recited their rough-hewn verse to entertain the masses,
• 387and put on scary masks cut out of bark
• 388and called on you, Bacchus, in rousing song,
• Editor’s Note389and in your honour dangled from the tips of pines tender tokens.*
• 390And it ensues that every vineyard crests and fills,
• 391valleys teem, and deep ravines—
• 392anywhere the god took in with his goodly gaze.
• 393  Therefore, as is only right, we accord to Bacchus due respect
• 394with songs our fathers sang and trays of baked offerings
• pg 41395 and, led by the horn, the sacrificial puck is set before the altar
• 396and his spewling innards roasted on hazel skewers.
• Link 397  Still there's more to do in the upkeep of the vines,
• 398the work that's never finished, for every year, three times or four,
• Link 399you have to air the soil, by crushing clods time and time again
• 400with your hoe's heel, and not neglect to relieve the whole plantation of its load of leaves.
• 401The farmer's chores come round
• 402in seasons and cycles, as the earth each year retraces its own tracks.
• 403And even while the yard relinquishes the last, lingering leaves
• 404and a northerly divests woods of their panache
• 405the keen countryman is turning thoughts to the year ahead
• 406and all that's to be done in it: with his curved blade he'll prune each branch
• Link 407and shape it to his own design. Then, as soon as possible,
• 408he'll rake the bed, set fire to his cuttings,
• 409bring under cover vine supports and then, as late as late can be,
• Link 410he'll draw the harvest home. Time and again, year on year,
• 411vines bow beneath a cloud and sink into the grip of undergrowth—ever more to do!
• Link 412So cast a hungry eye on a big estate if you're inclined, but tend a small one.
• 413        What's more, you'll find throughout the woods rough sprigs
• 414of butcher's broom and all along the river banks reeds needing to be trimmed,
• 415and, elsewhere, willows crying out for your attention—that will keep you on the go.
• Link 416Say grape branches are bound up, orchards finished with the pruning hook,
• 417and the vine-dresser furthest down the rows starts to sing of work well done,
• pg 42418 you've still to hoe the earth, to scuff and shuffle the light soil,
• Link 419and keep a weather watch on the clusters as they ripen.
• Link 420On the other hand, the olive thrives almost by neglect,
• 421needing no encounter with hooked hoe or sickle blade
• 422once it's found its feet in fields and faced the winds (and faced them down).
• 423The earth itself, once it's been broken open, provides sufficient moisture
• 424for growing plants to yield rich harvests in the ploughshare's wake.
• 425That's the way you'll cultivate the best of olives—choice of Peace.
• Link 426  Just as apples, as soon as they have sensed a surge of strength
• 427along their trunks, stretch quickly for the stars all on their own—
• 428they need no helping hand from us.
• Link 429And all the while wild woodlands teem with fruits,
• 430and the preserves of birds blaze with blood-red berries.
• 431  Clover's cut for fodder. Deep woods provide pitch pines
• 432that feed the evening fires and broadcast light.
• 433Have men still second thoughts about setting seeds and the attendant cares?
• Link 434What ties me to the theme of bigger trees? Broom and lowly willow
• 435supply sufficient food for stock and shade for countrymen,
• 436hedges for crop land and honey's essence.
• Link 437What joy to feast my eyes on waves of boxwood by Cytorus
• Editor’s Note438and on the stands of pine near Narycum,* what joy to set my sights
• 439on fields no mattock ever scratched, that owe no debt to human effort.
• 440Even in those fruitless forests found in the heights of Caucasus
• 441which south-east winds assault and batter
• 442each tree gives something of its own—the pines give timber, wood that's good
• pg 43443 for building boats, the cypresses and cedars wood that's good for building houses.
• 444And it's from here that countrymen procured turned spokes for wheels,
• 445and axles for their waggons, and the long curved keels of their ships.
• Link 446  No bother to the willow, a source of withies; nor to the elm, of foliage for fodder;
• 447while myrtle shafts make sturdy spears, as do the cornel cherry's—
• Editor’s Note448the best for war. Yews are best for the Ituraean bows.*
• 449Soft lime and boxwood polished on a lathe
• 450surrender to the shape the chisel's edge imposes;
• 451while the alder, launched into its raging torrents, speeds sprightly
• Editor’s Note452down the Po, and swarms of bees* set up their colonies
• 453in hollow cork and the belly of a boast holm oak.
• Link 454What offerings from Bacchus are more worthy of remembering?
• Link 455Bacchus! He it was who gave cause to crime, he who smote
• Editor’s Note456the maddened Centaurs* with a mortal blow—Rhoecus, Pholus,
• 457and Hylaeus, the one who'd deranged the Lapiths with a power of wine.
• Link 458  If they but knew! They're steeped in luck, country people,
• 459being far removed from grinds of war, where earth that's just
• 460showers them with all that they could ever ask for.
• Link 461So what if he hasn't a mansion with gates designed to impress
• 462and callers traipsing in and out all morning long.
• 463So what if there's no rabble gawking at the entrance with its gaudy tortoiseshell veneer,
• 464and tapestries with gold filigree, and bronzes plundered on a march to Corinth.
• 465So what if their wool's merely bleached and not stained with Assyrian dyes,
• Link 466and the olive oil they use hasn't been diluted with that tint of cinnamon—
• Link 467no, what they have is the quiet life—carefree and no deceit—
• 468and wealth untold—their ease among cornucopiae,
• pg 44469 with grottoes, pools of running water and valleys cool even in warm weather,
• 470the sounds of cattle and sweet snoozes in the shade.
• Link 471There are glades and greenwoods, lairs of game,
• 472young men wed to meagre fare but born and built for work.
• Link 473Here, too, is reverence for god and holy fathers, and it was here
• 474that Justice left her final footprints as she was taking leave of earth.
• Link 475  And as for me, my most ardent wish is that sweet Poetry,
• 476whose devotee I am, smitten as I've been with such commitment,
• 477would open up to me the courses of the stars in heaven,
• Link 478the myriad eclipses of the sun and phases of the moon,
• Link 479whence come earthquakes, which are the reason deep seas surge
• Link 480to burst their bounds before receding peacefully,
• 481and are the why winter suns dash to dip themselves into the ocean
• 482and are what causes long nights to last and linger.
• Link 483But if I am not the one to sound the ways of the world
• 484because my heart's lack of feeling stands in the way,
• 485then let me be satisfied with rural beauty, streams bustling through the glens;
• 486let me love woods and running water—though I'll have failed. Oh, for the open countryside
• Editor’s Note487along the Spercheus, or the mountains of Taygetus,* its horde of Spartan maidens
• 488ripe for the picking! Oh, for the one who'd lay me down to rest
• 489in cool valleys of the Haemus range and mind me in the shade of mighty branches!
• Editor’s Note Link 490  That man* has all the luck who can understand what makes the world
• 491tick, who has crushed underfoot his fears about
• Link 492what's laid out in store for him and stilled the roar of Hell's esurient river.
• Link 493Indeed he's blessed, who's comfortable with country gods—
• Editor’s Note494Pan and old Sylvanus,* and the sorority of nymphs.
• Link 495High public office doesn't turn his head, nor regal pomp,
• pg 45 Link 496 nor civil strife when friends and allies are at odds,
• 497nor the Dacian league descending from the Danube,
• Link 498nor even all concerns and cares of Rome, or any one provisional domain.
• Link 499For those with wants he feels a sorrow, not envy for the ones with none.
• 500The fruit on trees, all the country offers for the taking,
• Link 501he'll gather. To cruel codes of law, or madding market places,
• 502or the public record office—he simply gives no thought.
• 503  Others rush in rowboats into uncharted waters, and race to take up arms,
• Link 504they work their way into the inner courts and chambers of the king.
• Link 505This man aspires to the sack of Rome itself, all its poor hearths and homes,
• Link 506just so he might imbibe from cups inlaid with gems and sleep beneath the coverings of an emperor.
• 507That man stockpiles a fortune while he broods on buried treasure.
• Link 508This man looks on with open mouth at speakers in the forum, while that one is struck dumb
• 509by the applause that punctuates the talk of senators and even common people,
• Link 510and ripples all the way along the benches, while others still spill their brothers' blood
• 511and ne'er a care. They strike out from the home place and forge a life in exile,
• Editor’s Note512searching for warm welcome in a fatherland* beneath a foreign sun.
• Link 513  A countryman cleaves earth with his crooked plough. Such is the labour
• Link 514of his life. So he sustains his native land and those who follow
• Link 515in his footsteps; so he supports a team of oxen and keeps cattle in good order.
• 516All go and no let up—so that the seasons teem with fruit,
• 517fields fill up with bullocks, and big arms of barley stand in stooks.
• pg 46 Link 518They've overflowed the furrows, they'll burst the barns.
• 519  Come winter, and the best of olives run spilling from the mills,
• Link 520the pigs come back aglow on feeds of acorns, the arbutus tree
• 521refreshes its pale foliage—and in such ways the autumn serves its bounty,
• 522while up on open ground the vintage basks on boulders and ripens in the sun's caress.
• Link 523  And all the while dear sons await each show of his affection,
• 524his home remains a model of propriety, with milkers plunging
• Link 525their four quarters, and kids delighting in lush pastures
• 526and locking horns in playful jousts.
• 527The countryman observes his holidays by taking ease out in the fields
• Link 528with friends around a fire, garlands adorning goblets
• 529from which they'll drink to you, Bacchus, as he arranges contests and competitions
• Link 530for the hired help, hurling javelins at a target marked out on an elm,
• 531and sturdy hands undress themselves for wrestling bouts.
• Link 532  That was the life, and those the ways the Sabines cultivated in the days of old,
• Link 533they, and Remus and his brother, so there could be no doubt
• Editor’s Note Link 534that Tuscany would go from strength to strength* and Rome become
• Link 535gem of the world, embracing seven hills inside a single wall.
• Link 536In days before a Cretan king held sway, times
• Link 537when sacrilegious races fed on sacrificial oxen,
• Editor’s Note Link 538that was the life enjoyed on earth by splendid Saturn,*
• Link 539when they were yet to hear the flare of battle trumpets
• Link 540and the battering out of swords upon an anvil.
• Link 541But we have covered vast tracts of matter and, besides,
• Link 542it's high time that we released the sweating horses from their halters.