THE GEORGICS(农事诗集)

VIP免费

2024-12-25 0 0 214.46KB 53 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

29BC THE GEORGICS

by Virgil

29BC THE GEORGICS

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star Maecenas, it is

meet to turn the sod Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer; What

pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof Of patient trial serves for thrifty

bees;- Such are my themes. O universal

lights Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year Along the sky, Liber and

Ceres mild, If by your bounty holpen earth once changed Chaonian acorn

for the plump wheat-ear, And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,

The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns To rustics ever kind, come foot it,

Fauns And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing. And thou, for whose

delight the war-horse first Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's

stroke, Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom Three hundred

snow-white heifers browse the brakes, The fertile brakes of Ceos; and

clothed in power, Thy native forest and Lycean lawns, Pan, shepherd-god,

forsaking, as the love Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear And

help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too, Minerva, from whose hand the olive

sprung; And boy-discoverer of the curved plough; And, bearing a young

cypress root-uptorn, Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses, Who make the

fields your care, both ye who nurse The tender unsown increase, and from

heaven Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain: And thou, even thou,

of whom we know not yet What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,

Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will, Great Caesar, and to take the earth

in charge, That so the mighty world may welcome thee Lord of her

increase, master of her times, Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,

Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come, Sole dread of seamen, till far

Thule bow Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son With all her waves

for dower; or as a star Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,

Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws A space is opening; see!

red Scorpio's self His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more Than thy

full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt- For neither Tartarus hopes to call

thee king, Nor may so dire a lust of sovereignty E'er light upon thee,

howso Greece admire Elysium's fields, and Proserpine not heed Her

29BC THE GEORGICS

mother's voice entreating to return- Vouchsafe a prosperous voyage, and

smile on this My bold endeavour, and pitying, even as I, These poor way-

wildered swains, at once begin, Grow timely used unto the voice of prayer.

In early spring-tide, when the icy drip Melts from the mountains hoar, and

Zephyr's breath Unbinds the crumbling clod, even then 'tis time; Press

deep your plough behind the groaning ox, And teach the furrow-burnished

share to shine. That land the craving farmer's prayer fulfils, Which twice

the sunshine, twice the frost has felt; Ay, that's the land whose boundless

harvest-crops Burst, see! the barns. But ere

our metal cleave An unknown surface, heed we to forelearn The winds and

varying temper of the sky, The lineal tilth and habits of the spot, What

every region yields, and what denies. Here blithelier springs the corn, and

here the grape, There earth is green with tender growth of trees And grass

unbidden. See how from Tmolus comes The saffron's fragrance, ivory

from Ind, From Saba's weakling sons their frankincense, Iron from the

naked Chalybs, castor rank From Pontus, from Epirus the prize-palms O'

the mares of Elis. Such the eternal bond And

such the laws by Nature's hand imposed On clime and clime, e'er since the

primal dawn When old Deucalion on the unpeopled earth Cast stones,

whence men, a flinty race, were reared. Up then! if fat the soil, let sturdy

bulls Upturn it from the year's first opening months, And let the clods lie

bare till baked to dust By the ripe suns of summer; but if the earth Less

fruitful just ere Arcturus rise With shallower trench uptilt it- 'twill suffice;

There, lest weeds choke the crop's luxuriance, here, Lest the scant

moisture fail the barren sand. Then thou shalt suffer in alternate years

The new-reaped fields to rest, and on the plain A crust of sloth to harden;

or, when stars Are changed in heaven, there sow the golden grain Where

erst, luxuriant with its quivering pod, Pulse, or the slender vetch-crop,

thou hast cleared, And lupin sour, whose brittle stalks arise, A hurtling

forest. For the plain is parched By flax-crop, parched by oats, by poppies

parched In Lethe-slumber drenched. Nathless by change The travailing

earth is lightened, but stint not With refuse rich to soak the thirsty soil,

And shower foul ashes o'er the exhausted fields. Thus by rotation like

repose is gained, Nor earth meanwhile uneared and thankless left. Oft, too,

29BC THE GEORGICS

'twill boot to fire the naked fields, And the light stubble burn with

crackling flames; Whether that earth therefrom some hidden strength And

fattening food derives, or that the fire Bakes every blemish out, and sweats

away Each useless humour, or that the heat unlocks New passages and

secret pores, whereby Their life-juice to the tender blades may win; Or

that it hardens more and helps to bind The gaping veins, lest penetrating

showers, Or fierce sun's ravening might, or searching blast Of the keen

north should sear them. Well, I wot, He serves the fields who with his

harrow breaks The sluggish clods, and hurdles osier-twined Hales o'er

them; from the far Olympian height Him golden Ceres not in vain regards;

And he, who having ploughed the fallow plain And heaved its furrowy

ridges, turns once more Cross-wise his shattering share, with stroke on

stroke The earth assails, and makes the field his thrall. Pray for wet

summers and for winters fine, Ye husbandmen; in winter's dust the crops

Exceedingly rejoice, the field hath joy; No tilth makes Mysia lift her head

so high, Nor Gargarus his own harvests so admire. Why tell of him, who,

having launched his seed, Sets on for close encounter, and rakes smooth

The dry dust hillocks, then on the tender corn Lets in the flood, whose

waters follow fain; And when the parched field quivers, and all the blades

Are dying, from the brow of its hill-bed, See! see! he lures the runnel;

down it falls, Waking hoarse murmurs o'er the polished stones, And with

its bubblings slakes the thirsty fields? Or why of him, who lest the heavy

ears O'erweigh the stalk, while yet in tender blade Feeds down the crop's

luxuriance, when its growth First tops the furrows? Why of him who

drains The marsh-land's gathered ooze through soaking sand, Chiefly what

time in treacherous moons a stream Goes out in spate, and with its coat of

slime Holds all the country, whence the hollow dykes Sweat steaming

vapour? But no whit the more For all

expedients tried and travail borne By man and beast in turning oft the soil,

Do greedy goose and Strymon-haunting cranes And succory's bitter fibres

cease to harm, Or shade not injure. The great Sire himself No easy road to

husbandry assigned, And first was he by human skill to rouse The

slumbering glebe, whetting the minds of men With care on care, nor

suffering realm of his In drowsy sloth to stagnate. Before Jove Fields

29BC THE GEORGICS

knew no taming hand of husbandmen; To mark the plain or mete with

boundary-line- Even this was impious; for the common stock They

gathered, and the earth of her own will All things more freely, no man

bidding, bore. He to black serpents gave their venom-bane, And bade the

wolf go prowl, and ocean toss; Shook from the leaves their honey, put fire

away, And curbed the random rivers running wine, That use by gradual

dint of thought on thought Might forge the various arts, with furrow's help

The corn-blade win, and strike out hidden fire From the flint's heart. Then

first the streams were ware Of hollowed alder-hulls: the sailor then Their

names and numbers gave to star and star, Pleiads and Hyads, and Lycaon's

child Bright Arctos; how with nooses then was found To catch wild beasts,

and cozen them with lime, And hem with hounds the mighty forest-glades.

Soon one with hand-net scourges the broad stream, Probing its depths, one

drags his dripping toils Along the main; then iron's unbending might, And

shrieking saw-blade,- for the men of old With wedges wont to cleave the

splintering log;- Then divers arts arose; toil conquered all, Remorseless

toil, and poverty's shrewd push In times of hardship. Ceres was the first

Set mortals on with tools to turn the sod, When now the awful groves 'gan

fail to bear Acorns and arbutes, and her wonted food Dodona gave no

more. Soon, too, the corn Gat sorrow's increase, that an evil blight Ate up

the stalks, and thistle reared his spines An idler in the fields; the crops die

down; Upsprings instead a shaggy growth of burrs And caltrops; and amid

the corn-fields trim Unfruitful darnel and wild oats have sway. Wherefore,

unless thou shalt with ceaseless rake The weeds pursue, with shouting

scare the birds, Prune with thy hook the dark field's matted shade, Pray

down the showers, all vainly thou shalt eye, Alack! thy neighbour's

heaped-up harvest-mow, And in the greenwood from a shaken oak Seek

solace for thine hunger. Now to tell The

sturdy rustics' weapons, what they are, Without which, neither can be

sown nor reared The fruits of harvest; first the bent plough's share And

heavy timber, and slow-lumbering wains Of the Eleusinian mother,

threshing-sleighs And drags, and harrows with their crushing weight; Then

the cheap wicker-ware of Celeus old, Hurdles of arbute, and thy mystic

fan, Iacchus; which, full tale, long ere the time Thou must with heed lay

29BC THE GEORGICS

by, if thee await Not all unearned the country's crown divine. While yet

within the woods, the elm is tamed And bowed with mighty force to form

the stock, And take the plough's curved shape, then nigh the root A pole

eight feet projecting, earth-boards twain, And share-beam with its double

back they fix. For yoke is early hewn a linden light, And a tall beech for

handle, from behind To turn the car at lowest: then o'er the hearth The

wood they hang till the smoke knows it well. Many the precepts of the

men of old I can recount thee, so thou start not back, And such slight cares

to learn not weary thee. And this among the first: thy threshing-floor With

ponderous roller must be levelled smooth, And wrought by hand, and

fixed with binding chalk, Lest weeds arise, or dust a passage win Splitting

the surface, then a thousand plagues Make sport of it: oft builds the tiny

mouse Her home, and plants her granary, underground, Or burrow for their

bed the purblind moles, Or toad is found in hollows, and all the swarm Of

earth's unsightly creatures; or a huge Corn-heap the weevil plunders, and

the ant, Fearful of coming age and penury. Mark too, what time the

walnut in the woods With ample bloom shall clothe her, and bow down

Her odorous branches, if the fruit prevail, Like store of grain will follow,

and there shall come A mighty winnowing-time with mighty heat; But if

the shade with wealth of leaves abound, Vainly your threshing-floor will

bruise the stalks Rich but in chaff. Many myself have seen Steep, as they

sow, their pulse-seeds, drenching them With nitre and black oil-lees, that

the fruit Might swell within the treacherous pods, and they Make speed to

boil at howso small a fire. Yet, culled with caution, proved with patient toil,

These have I seen degenerate, did not man Put forth his hand with power,

and year by year Choose out the largest. So, by fate impelled, Speed all

things to the worse, and backward borne Glide from us; even as who with

struggling oars Up stream scarce pulls a shallop, if he chance His arms to

slacken, lo! with headlong force The current sweeps him down the

hurrying tide. Us too behoves Arcturus' sign observe, And the Kids'

seasons and the shining Snake, No less than those who o'er the windy

main Borne homeward tempt the Pontic, and the jaws Of oyster-rife

Abydos. When the Scales Now poising fair the hours of sleep and day

Give half the world to sunshine, half to shade, Then urge your bulls, my

29BC THE GEORGICS

masters; sow the plain Even to the verge of tameless winter's showers

With barley: then, too, time it is to hide Your flax in earth, and poppy,

Ceres' joy, Aye, more than time to bend above the plough, While earth, yet

dry, forbids not, and the clouds Are buoyant. With the spring comes bean-

sowing; Thee, too, Lucerne, the crumbling furrows then Receive, and

millet's annual care returns, What time the white bull with his gilded horns

Opens the year, before whose threatening front, Routed the dog-star sinks.

But if it be For wheaten harvest and the hardy spelt, Thou tax the soil, to

corn-ears wholly given, Let Atlas' daughters hide them in the dawn, The

Cretan star, a crown of fire, depart, Or e'er the furrow's claim of seed thou

quit, Or haste thee to entrust the whole year's hope To earth that would not.

Many have begun Ere Maia's star be setting; these, I trow, Their looked-

for harvest fools with empty ears. But if the vetch and common kidney-

bean Thou'rt fain to sow, nor scorn to make thy care Pelusiac lentil, no

uncertain sign Bootes' fall will send thee; then begin, Pursue thy sowing

till half the frosts be done. Therefore it is the golden sun, his course

Into fixed parts dividing, rules his way Through the twelve constellations

of the world. Five zones the heavens contain; whereof is one Aye red with

flashing sunlight, fervent aye From fire; on either side to left and right Are

traced the utmost twain, stiff with blue ice, And black with scowling

storm-clouds, and betwixt These and the midmost, other twain there lie,

By the Gods' grace to heart-sick mortals given, And a path cleft between

them, where might wheel On sloping plane the system of the Signs. And

as toward Scythia and Rhipaean heights The world mounts upward,

likewise sinks it down Toward Libya and the south, this pole of ours Still

towering high, that other, 'neath their feet, By dark Styx frowned on, and

the abysmal shades. Here glides the huge Snake forth with sinuous coils

'Twixt the two Bears and round them river-wise- The Bears that fear 'neath

Ocean's brim to dip. There either, say they, reigns the eternal hush Of night

that knows no seasons, her black pall Thick-mantling fold on fold; or

thitherward From us returning Dawn brings back the day; And when the

first breath of his panting steeds On us the Orient flings, that hour with

them Red Vesper 'gins to trim his his 'lated fires. Hence under doubtful

skies forebode we can The coming tempests, hence both harvest-day And

29BC THE GEORGICS

seed-time, when to smite the treacherous main With driving oars, when

launch the fair-rigged fleet, Or in ripe hour to fell the forest-pine. Hence,

too, not idly do we watch the stars- Their rising and their setting-and the

year, Four varying seasons to one law conformed. If chilly showers e'er

shut the farmer's door, Much that had soon with sunshine cried for haste,

He may forestall; the ploughman batters keen His blunted share's hard

tooth, scoops from a tree His troughs, or on the cattle stamps a brand, Or

numbers on the corn-heaps; some make sharp The stakes and two-pronged

forks, and willow-bands Amerian for the bending vine prepare. Now let

the pliant basket plaited be Of bramble-twigs; now set your corn to parch

Before the fire; now bruise it with the stone. Nay even on holy days some

tasks to ply Is right and lawful: this no ban forbids, To turn the runnel's

course, fence corn-fields in, Make springes for the birds, burn up the briars,

And plunge in wholesome stream the bleating flock. Oft too with oil or

apples plenty-cheap The creeping ass's ribs his driver packs, And home

from town returning brings instead A dented mill-stone or black lump of

pitch. The moon herself in various rank assigns The days for labour

lucky: fly the fifth; Then sprang pale Orcus and the Eumenides; Earth then

in awful labour brought to light Coeus, Iapetus, and Typhoeus fell, And

those sworn brethren banded to break down The gates of heaven; thrice,

sooth to say, they strove Ossa on Pelion's top to heave and heap, Aye, and

on Ossa to up-roll amain Leafy Olympus; thrice with thunderbolt Their

mountain-stair the Sire asunder smote. Seventh after tenth is lucky both to

set The vine in earth, and take and tame the steer, And fix the leashes to

the warp; the ninth To runagates is kinder, cross to thieves. Many the

tasks that lightlier lend themselves In chilly night, or when the sun is

young, And Dawn bedews the world. By night 'tis best To reap light

stubble, and parched fields by night; For nights the suppling moisture

never fails. And one will sit the long late watches out By winter fire-light,

shaping with keen blade The torches to a point; his wife the while, Her

tedious labour soothing with a song, Speeds the shrill comb along the

warp, or else With Vulcan's aid boils the sweet must-juice down, And

skims with leaves the quivering cauldron's wave. But ruddy Ceres in

mid heat is mown, And in mid heat the parched ears are bruised Upon the

29BC THE GEORGICS

floor; to plough strip, strip to sow; Winter's the lazy time for husbandmen.

In the cold season farmers wont to taste The increase of their toil, and

yield themselves To mutual interchange of festal cheer. Boon winter bids

them, and unbinds their cares, As laden keels, when now the port they

touch, And happy sailors crown the sterns with flowers. Nathless then also

time it is to strip Acorns from oaks, and berries from the bay, Olives, and

bleeding myrtles, then to set Snares for the crane, and meshes for the stag,

And hunt the long-eared hares, then pierce the doe With whirl of hempen-

thonged Balearic sling, While snow lies deep, and streams are drifting ice.

What need to tell of autumn's storms and stars, And wherefore men must

watch, when now the day Grows shorter, and more soft the summer's heat?

When Spring the rain-bringer comes rushing down, Or when the beards of

harvest on the plain Bristle already, and the milky corn On its green stalk

is swelling? Many a time, When now the farmer to his yellow fields The

reaping-hind came bringing, even in act To lop the brittle barley stems,

have I Seen all the windy legions clash in war Together, as to rend up far

and wide The heavy corn-crop from its lowest roots, And toss it skyward:

so might winter's flaw, Dark-eddying, whirl light stalks and flying straws.

Oft too comes looming vast along the sky A march of waters; mustering

from above, The clouds roll up the tempest, heaped and grim With angry

showers: down falls the height of heaven, And with a great rain floods the

smiling crops, The oxen's labour: now the dikes fill fast, And the void

river-beds swell thunderously, And all the panting firths of Ocean boil.

The Sire himself in midnight of the clouds Wields with red hand the levin;

through all her bulk Earth at the hurly quakes; the beasts are fled, And

mortal hearts of every kindred sunk In cowering terror; he with flaming

brand Athos, or Rhodope, or Ceraunian crags Precipitates: then doubly

raves the South With shower on blinding shower, and woods and coasts

Wail fitfully beneath the mighty blast. This fearing, mark the months and

Signs of heaven, Whither retires him Saturn's icy star, And through what

heavenly cycles wandereth The glowing orb Cyllenian. Before all Worship

the Gods, and to great Ceres pay Her yearly dues upon the happy sward

With sacrifice, anigh the utmost end Of winter, and when Spring begins to

smile. Then lambs are fat, and wines are mellowest then; Then sleep is

29BC THE GEORGICS

sweet, and dark the shadows fall Upon the mountains. Let your rustic

youth To Ceres do obeisance, one and all; And for her pleasure thou mix

honeycombs With milk and the ripe wine-god; thrice for luck Around the

young corn let the victim go, And all the choir, a joyful company, Attend it,

and with shouts bid Ceres come To be their house-mate; and let no man

dare Put sickle to the ripened ears until, With woven oak his temples

chapleted, He foot the rugged dance and chant the lay. Aye, and that

these things we might win to know By certain tokens, heats, and showers,

and winds That bring the frost, the Sire of all himself Ordained what

warnings in her monthly round The moon should give, what bodes the

south wind's fall, What oft-repeated sights the herdsman seeing Should

keep his cattle closer to their stalls. No sooner are the winds at point to rise,

Than either Ocean's firths begin to toss And swell, and a dry crackling

sound is heard Upon the heights, or one loud ferment booms The beach

afar, and through the forest goes A murmur multitudinous. By this Scarce

can the billow spare the curved keels, When swift the sea-gulls from the

middle main Come winging, and their shrieks are shoreward borne, When

ocean-loving cormorants on dry land Besport them, and the hern, her

marshy haunts Forsaking, mounts above the soaring cloud. Oft, too, when

wind is toward, the stars thou'lt see From heaven shoot headlong, and

through murky night Long trails of fire white-glistening in their wake, Or

light chaff flit in air with fallen leaves, Or feathers on the wave-top float

and play. But when from regions of the furious North It lightens, and when

thunder fills the halls Of Eurus and of Zephyr, all the fields With

brimming dikes are flooded, and at sea No mariner but furls his dripping

sails. Never at unawares did shower annoy: Or, as it rises, the high-soaring

cranes Flee to the vales before it, with face Upturned to heaven, the heifer

snuffs the gale Through gaping nostrils, or about the meres Shrill-

twittering flits the swallow, and the frogs Crouch in the mud and chant

their dirge of old. Oft, too, the ant from out her inmost cells, Fretting the

narrow path, her eggs conveys; Or the huge bow sucks moisture; or a host

Of rooks from food returning in long line Clamour with jostling wings.

Now mayst thou see The various ocean-fowl and those that pry Round

Asian meads within thy fresher-pools, Cayster, as in eager rivalry, About

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

29BCTHEGEORGICS129BCTHEGEORGICSbyVirgil29BCTHEGEORGICS2GEORGICIWhatmakesthecornfieldsmile;beneathwhatstarMaecenas,itismeettoturnthesodOrmarryelmwithvine;howtendthesteer;Whatpainsforcattle-keeping,orwhatproofOfpatienttrialservesforthriftybees;-Sucharemythemes.OuniversallightsMostglorious!yethatleadth...

展开>> 收起<<

THE GEORGICS(农事诗集).pdf

共53页,预览11页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

THE GEORGICS(农事诗集)

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: