What makes the crops joyous, beneath what star, 
	Maecenas, it is well to turn the soil, and wed vines to elms, 
	what tending the cattle need, what care the herd 
	in breeding, what skill the thrifty bees--
5	hence shall I begin my song. O most radiant lights 
	of the firmament, that guide through heaven the gliding year, 
	O Liber and bounteous Ceres, if by your grace 
	Earth changed Chaonia’s acorn for the rich corn ear, 
	and blended draughts of Achelous with the newfound grapes, 
10	and you Fauns, the rustics’ ever present gods 
	(come trip it, Fauns, and Dryad maids withal!), 
	‘tis of your bounties I sing. And Neptune, for whom Earth, 
	smitten by your mighty trident, first sent forth the neighing steed; 
	you, too, spirit of the groves, for whom 
15	thrice a hundred snowy steers crop Cea’s rich thickets; 
	you too, Pan, guardian of the sheep, leaving your native woods 
	and glades of Lycaeus, as you love your own Maenalus, 
	come of your grace, Tegean lord! Come, Minerva, inventress of the olive; 
	you, too, youth, who showed to man the crooked plough; 
20	and you, Silvanus, with a young uprooted cypress in your hand; 
	and gods and goddesses all, whose love guards our fields--
	both you who nurse the young fruits, springing up unsown, 
	and you who on the seedlings send down from heaven plenteous rain! 
	And you above all, Caesar, whom we known not 
25	what company of the gods shall claim ere long; whether you choose 
	to watch over cities and care for our lands, that so the great globe 
	may receive you as the giver of increase and lord of the seasons, 
	wreathing your brows with your mother’s myrtle; 
	whether you come as god of the boundless sea and sailors 
30	worship your deity alone, while farthest Thule owns your lordship 
	and Tethys with the dowry of all her waves buys you to wed her daughter; 
	or whether you add yourself as a new star to the lingering months, 
	where, between the Virgin and the grasping Claws, 
	a space is opening (lo! for you even now the blazing Scorpion 
35	draws in his arms, and has left more than a due portion of the heaven!)--
	whatever you are to be (for Tartarus hopes not for you as king, 
	and may such monstrous lust of empire never seize you, 
	though Greece is enchanted by the Elysian fields, 
	and Proserpine reclaimed cares not to follow her mother), 
40	grant me a calm voyage, give assent to my bold emprise, 
	and pitying with me the rustics who know not their way, 
	enter upon your kingdom, and learn even now to hearken to our prayers!
	
	In the dawning spring, when icy streams trickle from snowy mountains, 
	and the crumbling clod breaks at the Zephyr’s touch, 
45	even then would I have my bull groan over the deep-driven 
	plough, and the share glisten when rubbed by the furrow. 
	That field only answers the covetous farmer’s prayer 
	which twice has felt the sun and twice the frost; 
	from it boundless harvests burst the granaries. 
50	And ere our iron cleaves an unknown plain, 
	be it first our care to learn the winds and the wavering moods 
	of the sky, the wonted tillage and nature of the ground, 
	what each clime yields and what each disowns. 
	Here corn, there grapes spring more luxuriantly; 
55	elsewhere young trees shoot up, and grasses unbidden. 
	See you not, how Tmolus sends us saffron fragrance, 
	India her ivory, the soft Sabaeans their frankincense; 
	but the naked Chalybes give us iron, Pontus the strong-smelling 
	beaver’s oil, and Epirus the Olympian victories of her mares? 
60	From the first, Nature laid these laws and eternal covenants 
	on certain lands, even from the day 
	when Deucalion threw stones into the empty world, 
	whence sprang men, a stony race. Come then, and where
	 the earth’s soil is rich, let your stout oxen upturn it straightway, 
65	in the year’s first months, and let the clods lie 
	for dusty summer to bake with her ripening suns; 
	but should the land not be fruitful, it will suffice, 
	on the eve of Arcturus’ rising, to raise it lightly with shallow furrow--
	in the one case, that weeds may not choke the gladsome corn; 
70	in the other, that the scant moisture may not desert the barren sand.
	
	In alternate seasons you will also let your fields lie fallow 
	after reaping, and the plain idly stiffen with scurf; 
	or, beneath another star, sow yellow corn in lands 
	whence you have first carried off the pulse that rejoices 
75	in its quivering pods, or the fruits of the slender vetch, 
	or the brittle stalks and rattling tangle of the bitter lupine. 
	For a crop of flax parches the ground; oats parch it, 
	and poppies, steeped in Lethe’s slumber. 
	Yet by changing crops the toil is light; only be not ashamed 
80	to feed fat the dried-out soil with rich dung, 
	and to scatter grimy ashes over the exhausted fields. 
	Thus also, with change of crop, the land finds rest, 
	and meanwhile not thankless in the unploughed earth. 
	Often, too, it has been useful to fire barren fields, 
85	and burn the light stubble in crackling flames; 
	whether it be that the earth derives thence hidden strength 
	and rich nutriment, or that in the flame every taint 
	is baked out and the useless moisture sweats from it, 
	or that that heat opens fresh paths and loosens hidden pores, 
90	by which the sap may reach the tender blades, 
	or that it rather hardens the soil and narrows the gaping veins, 
	that so the searching showers may not harm, or the blazing sun’s 
	fierce tyranny wither it, or the North Wind’s piercing cold.
	
	Much service does he do the land who with the mattock 
95	breaks up the sluggish clods, and drags over it hurdles of osier; nor is it 
	without reward that golden Ceres looks on him from Olympian heights. 
	Much service, too does he who turns his plough and again breaks crosswise 
	through the ridges which he raised when first he cut the plain, 
	ever at his post to discipline the ground, and give his orders to the fields.
	
100	For moist summers and sunny winters, pray, 
	farmers! With winter’s dust most gladsome is the corn, 
	gladsome is the field: under no tillage does Mysia 
	so glory, and then even Gargarus marvels at his own harvests. 
	Need I tell of him who flings the seed, then, hoe in hand, 
105	closes with the soil, and levels the hillocks of barren sand; 
	then brings to his crops the rills of the stream he guides, 
	and when the scorches land swelters, the green blades dying, 
	lo, from the brow of the channeled slope decoys the water? 
	Down it falls, and waking a hoarse murmur amid the smooth 
110	stones, slakes the thirsty soil with its gushing stream. 
	Need I tell of him who, lest the stalk droop with overweighted ears, 
	grazes down his luxuriant crop in the young blade 
	as soon as the growing corn is even with the furrow’s top, or of him 
	who draws off a marsh’s gathered moisture with absorbent sand--
115	chiefly when, in treacherous months, a river at the full 
	overflows, and far and wide cloaks all in mud, 
	till the hollow ditches steam with warm vapour?
	
	Nor yet, after all that the toil of man and beast has achieved 
	in oft turning the land, does the rascally goose do no mischief, 
120	or the Strymonian cranes, or the bitter fibres of chicory; 
	nor is the shade of trees harmless. The great Father himself 
	has willed that the path of husbandry should not run smooth, 
	who first made art awake the fields, sharpening men’s wits by care, 
	nor letting his kingdom slumber in heavy lethargy. 
125	Before the reign of Jove no tillers subjucated the land: 
	even to mark possession of the plain or apportion it by boundaries 
	was sacrilege; man made gain for the common good, and Earth 
	of her own accord gave her gifts all the more freely when none demanded them. 
	Jove it was who put the noxious venom into deadly snakes, 
130	who bade the wolf turn robber and the ocean swell with tempest, 
	who stripped honey from the leaves, hid fire from view, 
	and stayed the wine that once ran everywhere in streams, 
	so that experience, from taking thought, might little by little 
	forge all manner of skills, seeking in ploughed furrows the blade of corn, 
135	striking forth the spark hidden in the veins of flint. 
	Then first did rivers feel upon their backs boats of hollowed alder, 
	then the mariner grouped and named the stars, 
	Pleiads and Hyads and Lycaon’s daughter, the radiant Bear. 
	Then was discovered how to catch game with traps, snare birds 
140	with lime, and how to encircle vase coverts with hunting dogs. 
	Already one man is lashing a broad stream with his casting net, 
	seeking the bottom, while another trawls through the sea his dripping meshes. 
	Then came unyielding iron and the blade of the rasping saw 
	(for primitive man used wedges to cleave wood until it split), 
145	and art followed hard on art. Toil triumphed over every 
	obstacle, unrelenting Toil, and Want that pinches when life is hard.
	
	Ceres was the first to teach men to turn the earth 
	with iron, when the acorns and the arbutes of the sacred wood 
	began to fail, and Dodona withheld her food. 
150	Soon, too, on the corn fell trouble, the baneful mildew 
	feeding on the stems, and the lazy thistle bristling 
	in the fields; the crops die, and instead springs up 
	a prickly growth of burs and caltrops, and amid 
	the smiling corn luckless darnel and barren oats hold sway. 
155	Therefore, unless your hoe is ever ready to assail the weeds, 
	your voice to terrify the birds, your knife to check the shade 
	over the darkened land, and your prayers to invoke the rain, 
	in vain, poor man, you will gaze on your neighbour’s large store of grain, 
	and you will be shaking oaks in the woods to assuage your hunger.
	
160	I must tell, too, of the hardy farmers’ weapons, 
	without which the crops could be neither sown nor raised. 
	First the share and the curved plough’s heavy frame, 
	the slow-rolling wains of the Mother of Eleusis, 
	sledges and drags, and hoes of cruel weight; 
165	further, the common wicker ware of Celeus, 
	arbute hurdles and the mystic fan of Iacchus. 
	All of these you will remember to provide and store away long beforehand, 
	if the glory the divine country gives is to be yours in worthy measure. 
	From the first, even in the woods, an elm, bent by main force, 
170	is trained for the stock, and receives the form of the crooked plough. 
	To the temp of this is fitted a pole, eight feet in length, 
	with two mould boards, and a share beam with double back. 
	A light linden, too, is felled beforehand for the yoke, and a tall beech 
	for the handle, to turn the car below from the rear; 
175	and the wood is hung above the hearth for the smoke to season.
	
	I can repeat for you many olden maxims, 
	unless you shrink back and are loath to learn such trivial cares. 
	And chiefly, the threshing floor must be leveled with a heavy roller, 
	kneaded with the hand, and made solid with binding clay, 
180	lest weeds spring up, or, crumbling into dust, it gape open, 
	and then divers plagues make mock of you. Often under the ground 
	the tiny mouse sets up a home and builds his storehouses, 
	or sightless moles dig out chambers; 
	in holes may be found the toad, and all the countless pests 
185	born of the earth; or the weevil ravages a huge heap 
	of grain, or the ant, fearful of a destitute old age.
	
	Mark, too, when in the woods the walnut clothes itself thickly 
	in blossom and bends its fragrant boughs: 
	if the fruit prevails, the corn crops will keep pace with it, 
190	and a great threshing come with a great heat; 
	but if the shade is abundant in the fullness of leafage, 
	in vain shall your floor thresh stalks, rich only in chaff. 
	Many a sower have I seen treat his seeds, drenching them 
	first with nitre and black oil lees, 
195	that the deceitful pods might yield larger produce, 
	and the grains be sodden quickly, however small the fire. 
	I have seen seeds, though picked long and tested 
	with much pains, yet degenerate, if human toil, year after year, 
	culled not the largest by hand. Thus by law of fate all things 
200	speed towards the worse and slipping away fall back 
	even as if one, whose oars can scarce force his skiff 
	against the stream, should be chance slacken his arms, 
	and lo! headlong down the current the channel sweeps it away.
	
	Furthermore, we must watch the star of Arcturus, 
205	the days of the Kids, and the gleaming Snake, 
	even as they do who, sailing homeward over windswept seas, 
	brave the Pontus and the jaws of oyster-breeding Abydus. 
	When the Balance makes the hours of daytime and sleep equal, 
	and now parts the world in twain; half in light and half in shade, 
210	then, my men, work your oxen, sow barley in your fields, 
	as late as the eve of winter’s rains, when work must cease. 
	Then, too, is the time to hide in the ground your crop of flax 
	and the poppy of Ceres; and high time is it to bend to the plough, 
	while the dry soil will let you and the clouds are still aloft. 
215	Spring is the sowing time for beans; then, too, the crumbling furrows 
	welcome you, Median clover, and the millet claims our yearly care, 
	when the snow-white Bull with gilded horns ushers in 
	the year, and the Dog sets, retiring before the Bull’s confronting star. 
	But if for harvest of wheat and for hardy spelt you ply 
220	the ground, and if grain alone is your aim, 
	first let the daughters of Atlas pass from your sight in the morn, 
	and let the Cretan star of the blazing Crown withdraw
	 ere you commit to the furrows the seeds due, 
	or hasten to trust the year’s hope to a reluctant soil. 
225	Many have begun ere Maia’s setting, but the looked-for 
	crop has mocked them with empty straws. 
	Yet if you choose to sow the vetch or homely kidney bean, 
	and scorn not the care of Egyptian lentil, 
	setting Boötes will send you no doubtful signs. 
230	Begin, and carry on your sowing to midwinter’s frosts.
	
	To this end the golden Sun rules his circuit, portioned out 
	in fixed divisions, through the world’s twelve constellations. 
	Five zones comprise the heavens; whereof one is ever glowing 
	with the flashing sun, ever scorched by his flames. 
235	Round this, at the world’s ends, two stretch darkling 
	to right and left, set fast in ice and black storms. 
	Between these and the idle zone, two by grace of the gods have been 
	vouchsafed to feeble mortals; and a path is cut between the two, 
	wherein the slanting array of the Signs may turn. 
240	As our globe rises steep to Scythia and the Riphaean crags, 
	so its slopes downward to Libya’s southland. 
	One pole is ever high above us, while the other, 
	beneath our feet, is seen of black Styx and shades infernal. 
	Here, with his tortuous coils, the mighty Snake glides forth, 
245	river-like, about and between the two Bears--
	the Bears that shrink from the plunge beneath Ocean’s plain. 
	There, men say, is either the silence of lifeless night, 
	and gloom ever thickening beneath night’s pall; 
	or else Dawn returns from us and brings them back the day, 
250	and when on us the rising Sun first breathes with panting steeds, 
	there glowing Vesper is kindling his evening rays. 
	Hence, though the sky be fitful, we can foretell the weather’s 
	changes, hence the harvest tide and sowing time; 
	when it is meet to lash with oars the sea’s faithless 
255	calm, when to launch our well-rigged fleet, 
	or in the woods to fell the pine in season. 
	Not in vain do we watch the signs, as they rise and set, 
	and the year, uniform in its four several seasons.
	
	Whenever a cold shower keeps the farmer indoors, 
260	he can prepare at leisure much that ere long in clear weather 
	must needs be hurried. The ploughman hammers out 
	the hard tooth of the blunted share, scoops troughs from trees, 
	or sets a brand upon his flocks and labels upon his corn heaps. 
	Others sharpen stakes and two-pronged forks, 
265	or make bands of Amerian willows for the limber vine. 
	Now let the pliant basket be woven of briar twigs, 
	now roast corn by the fire, now grind it on the stone. 
	Even on holy days, the laws of God and man permit you to do 
	certain tasks. No scruples ever forbade us to guide down 
270	the rills, to defend a crop with a hedge, 
	to set snares for birds, to fire brambles, 
	or to plunge bleating flocks into the health-giving stream. 
	Oft, too, the driver loads his slow donkey’s sides with oil 
	or cheap fruits, and as he comes back from town brings 
275	with him an indented millstone or a mass of black pitch.
	
	The Moon herself has ordained various days in various grades 
	as lucky for work. Shun the fifth; then pale Orcus 
	and the Furies were born; then in monstrous labour Earth bore 
	Coeus, and Iapetus and fierce Typhoeus, 
280	and the brethren who were banded to break down Heaven. 
	Thrice did they essay to pile Ossa on Pelion, 
	and over Ossa to roll leafy Olympus; thrice, with his bolt, 
	the Father dashed apart their up-piled mountains. 
	The seventeenth is lucky for planting the vine, 
285	for yoking and breaking in oxen, and for adding the leashes to the warp. 
	The ninth is a friend to the runaway, a foe to the thief.
	
	There are many things, too, that make better progress in the cool of night, 
	or when at early sunrise the day star bedews the earth. 
	At night the light stubble is best shorn, at night the thirsty 
290	meadows; at night the softening moisture fails not. 
	One I know spends wakeful hours by the late blaze 
	of a winter fire, and with sharp knife points torches; 
	his wife the while solaces with song her long toil, 
	runs the shrill shuttle through the web, 
295	or on the fire boils down the sweet juice of must, 
	and skims with leaves the froth of the bubbling cauldron. 
	But Ceres’ golden grain is cut down in noonday heat, 
	and in noonday heat the floor threshes the parched ears. 
	Strip to plough, strip to sow; winter is the farmer’s lazy time. 
300	In cold weather farmers chiefly enjoy their gains, 
	and feast together in merry companies. 
	Winter’s cheer calls them, and loosens the weight of care--
	even as when laden keels have at last reaches port, 
	and the merry sailors have crowned the poops with garlands. 
305	Still, then is the time to strip the acorns 
	and laurel berries, the olive and blood-red myrtle; 
	the time to set snares for cranes and nets for the stag, 
	and to chase the long-eared hares; the time to smite the does, 
	as you whirl the hempen thongs of a Balearic sling--
310	when the snow lies deep, when the rivers roll down the ice.
	
	Why need I tell of autumn’s changes and stars, and for what 
	our workers must watch, as the day now grows shorter 
	and summer softer, or when spring pours down in showers, 
	as the bearded harvest now bristles in the fields, 
315	and the corn on its green stem swells with milk? 
	Often when the farmer was bringing the reaper into his golden fields 
	and was just beginning to strip the barley from the frail stalk, 
	I have seen all the winds close in conflict, 
	tearing up the heavy corn far and wide from its deepest roots 
320	and tossing it on high; so in a black whirlwind 
	did the storm sweep away the light straw and flying stubble. 
	Often, too, there appears in the sky a mighty column of waters, 
	and clouds mustered from on high roll up a murky tempest 
	of black showers: down falls the lofty heaven, 
325	and with its deluge of rain washes away the gladsome crops 
	and the labours of oxen. The dykes fill, the deep-channelled rivers 
	swell and roar, and the sea steams in its heaving friths. 
	The Father himself, in midnight of storm clouds, wields his bolts 
	with flashing hand. At that shock the mighty earth shivers; 
330	far flee the beasts and all over the world prostrating terror 
	lays low men’s hearts; he with blazing bolt 
	dashes down Athos or Rhodope or the Ceraunian peaks. 
	The winds redouble; more and more thickens the rain; 
	now woods, now shores wail with the mighty blast. 
335	In fear of this, mark the months and signs of heaven; 
	whither Saturn’s cold star withdraws itself 
	and into what circles of the sky strays the Cyllenian fire. 
	Above all, worship the gods, and pay great Ceres 
	her yearly rites, sacrificing on the glad sward, 
340	with the setting of winter’s last days, when clear springtime is now come. 
	Then lambs are fat and wine is most mellow; 
	then sweet is sleep, and thick are the shadows on the hills. 
	Then let all your country folk worship Ceres; 
	for her wash the honeycomb with milk and soft wine, 
345	and three time let the luck-bringing victim pass round the young crops, 
	while the whole choir of your comrades follow exulting, 
	and loudly call Ceres into their homes; 
	nor let any put his sickle to the ripe corn, 
	ere for Ceres he crown his brows with oaken wreath, 
350	dance artless measures, and chant her hymns.
	
	And that through unfailing signs we might learn these dangers--
	the heat, and the rain, and the cold-bringing winds--
	the Father himself decreed what warning the monthly moon should give, 
	what should signal the fall of the wind, and what sight, 
355	oft seen, should prompt the farmer to keep his cattle nearer to their stalls. 
	From the first, when the winds are rising, either the sea’s straits 
	begin to heave and swell, and on mountain heights 
	is heard a dry crash, or the shores ring 
	a confused echo afar and the woodland murmur waxes loud. 
360	Then, too the wave scarce keeps itself from the curved keel, 
	when the fleet gulls fly back from mid-ocean, 
	wafting their screams shoreward, and when the sea coots 
	sport on dry land, and the heron quits its home 
	in the marsh and soars aloft above the clouds. 
365	Often, too, when wind is threatening, you will see 
	stars shoot headlong from the sky and behind them 
	long trails of flame, gleaming white amid night’s blackness; 
	often light chaff and falling leaves fly about 
	and feathers dance as they float on the water’s top. 
370	But when it lightens from the region of the grim North, and when 
	the home of the East and West winds thunders, then the ditches 
	overflow and all the fields are flooded, while on the deep 
	every mariner furls his dripping sails. Never has rain brought ill 
	to men unwarned. Either, as it gathers, the sky cranes flee 
375	before it in the valley’s depths; or the heifer looks up 
	to heaven, and with open nostrils snuffs the breeze, 
	or the twittering swallow flits round the pools, 
	and in the mud the frogs croak their immemorial plaint. 
	Often, too, the ant, wearing her narrow path, brings out her eggs 
380	from her inmost cells and a great rainbow drinks, 
	and an army of rooks, quitting their pasture 
	in long array, clang with series wings. 
	Again, you may see the manifold birds of the sea, and such as, 
	in Cayster’s sweet pools, rummage round the Asian meadows, 
385	now rivaling each other in pouring the copious spray over their shoulders, 
	now dashing their heads in the waves, now running into the waters, 
	and aimlessly exulting in the joy of the bath. 
	Then the villainous raven with deep tones calls down the rain, 
	and in solitary state stalks along the dry sea sand. 
390	Even at night, maidens that spin their tasks have not failed 
	to mark a storm as they saw the oil sputter in the blazing lamp,
	 and a mouldy fungus gather on the wick.
	
	Nor less after rain may you foresee bright suns 
	and cloudless skies, and know them by sure signs. 
395	For then the stars’ bright edge is seen undimmed, 
	and the moon rises under no dept to her brothers’ rays, 
	and no thin fleecy clouds pass over the sky. 
	Not now do the halcyons, the pride of Thetis, spread their wings 
	on the shore to catch the warm sun, nor do the uncleanly swine 
400	think of tossing straw bundles to pieces with their snouts. 
	But the mists are prone to seek the valleys, and rest on the plain, 
	and the owl, as she watches the sunset from some 
	high peak, vainly plies her evening song. 
	Nisus is seen aloft in the clear sky, 
405	and Scylla suffers for the crimson lock. 
	Wherever she flees, cleaving the light air with her wings, 
	lo! savage and ruthless, with loud whirr Nisus follows 
	through the sky; where Nisus mounts skyward, 
	she flees in haste, cleaving the light air with her wings. 
410	Then the rooks, with narrowed throat, thrice 
	or four times repeat their soft cries, and oft in their high nests, 
	joyous with some strange, unwonted delight, chatter to each other 
	amid the leaves. Glad are they, they rains over, 
	to see once more their little brood and their sweet nests. 
415	Not, methinks, that they have wisdom from on high, 
	or from Fate a larger foreknowledge of things to be; 
	but that when the weather and fitful vapours of the sky 
	have turned their course, and Jove, wet with south winds, 
	thickens what just now as rare, and makes rare what now as thick, 
420	the phase of their minds change, and their breasts now conceive impulses, 
	other than they felt when the wind was chasing the clouds. 
	Hence that chorus of the birds in the fields, the gladness 
	of the cattle, and the exulting cries of the rocks.
	
	But if you pay heed to the swift sun and the moons, 
425	as they follow in order, never will tomorrow’s hour cheat you, 
	nor will you be ensnared by a cloudless night. 
	Soon as the moon gathers her returning fires, 
	if she encloses a dark mist within dim horns, 
	a heavy rain is awaiting farmers and seamen. 
430	But if over her face she spreads a maiden blush, 
	there will be wind; as wind rises, golden Phoebe ever blushes. 
	But if at her fourth rising--for that is our surest guide--
	she pass through the sky clear and with undimmed horns, 
	then all that day, and the days born of it to the month’s end, 
435	shall be free from rain and wind; 
	and the sailors, safe in port, shall pay their vows on the shore 
	to Glaucus, and to Panopea, and to Melicerta, Ino’s son.
	
	The sun, too, alike when rising and when sinking under the waves, 
	will give tokens: tokens most sure will attend the sun, 
440	both those he brings each dawn and those he shows as the stars arise. 
	When, hidden in cloud, he has chequered with spots 
	his early dawn, and is shrunk back in the centre of his disc, 
	beware of showers; for from the deep the South Wind 
	is sweeping, foe to tree and crop and herd. 
445	Or when at dawn scattered shafts break out 
	amid thick clouds, or when Aurora rises pale, 
	as she leaves Tithonus’ saffron couch, ah! 
	Poorly then will the vine leaf guard the ripe grapes, 
	so thick the bristling hail dances rattling on the roofs. 
450	This, too, when he has traversed the sky and now is setting, 
	it will profit you more to bear in mind; for often we see 
	fitful hues flit over his face: 
	a dark hue threatens rain, a fiery hue, east winds; 
	but if the spots begin to mingle with glowing fire, 
455	then shall you see all nature rioting with wind and storm clouds 
	alike. On such a night let none urge me to travel 
	on the deep, or pluck my cable from the land. 
	Yet if, both when he brings back the day, and when he closes the day 
	he brought, his disc is bright, then vain will be your fear of storm clouds, 
460	and you will see the woods sway in the clear north wind.
	
	In short, the message of late evening, the quarter whence 
	the wind drives clear the clouds, the purpose of the rainy South--
	of all the Sun will give you signs. Who dare say the Sun is false? 
	He and no other warns us when dark uprisings threaten, 
465	when treachery and hidden wars are gathering strength. 
	He and no other was moved to pity Rome on the day that Caesar died, 
	when he veiled his radiance in gloom and darkness, 
	and a godless age feared everlasting night. 
	Yet in this hour Earth also and the plains of Ocean, 
470	ill-boding dogs and birds that spell mischief, sent signs 
	which heralded disaster. How oft before our eyes did Etna 
	deluge the fields of the Cyclopes with a torrent from her burst furnaces, 
	hurling thereon balls of fire and molten rocks. 
	Germany heard the noise of battle sweep across the sky 
475	and, even without precedent, the Alps rocked with earthquakes. 
	A voice boomed through the silent groves for all 
	to hear, a deafening voice, and phantoms of unearthly pallor 
	were seen in the falling darkness. Horror beyond words, 
	beasts uttered human speech; rivers stood still, the earth gaped upon;
480	 in the temples ivory images wept for grief, and beads of sweat covered bronze statues. 
	King of waterways, the Po swept forests along in the swirl 
	of his frenzied current, carrying with him over the plain 
	cattle and stalls alike. Nor in that same hour 
	did sinister filaments cease to appear in ominous entrails 
485	or blood to flow from wells or our hillside towns 
	to echo all night with the howl of wolves. 
	Never fell more lightning from a cloudless sky; 
	never was comet’s alarming glare so often seen. 
	So it was that Philippi beheld for a second time 
490	Roman armies clash in the shock of matching arms; 
	and Heaven above did not demur at Macedon and the broad Balkan 
	plains being twice glutted with the blood of our fellow citizens. 
	Yes, and a time will come when in those lands 
	the farmer, as he cleaves the soil with his curved plough, 
495	will find javelins corroded with rusty mould, 
	or with his heavy hoe will strike empty helmets, 
	and marvel at gigantic bones in the upturned graves.
	
	Gods of my country, Heroes of the land, you, Romulus, and you, 
	mother Vesta, who guard the Tuscan Tiber and the Palatine of Rome, 
500	at least do not prevent this young prince from succouring a world 
	in ruins! Long enough has our life-blood 
	paid for Laomedon’s perjury at Troy; 
	long enough have Heaven’s courts grudged you, Caesar, 
	to us, complaining that you care for earthly triumphs! 
505	For here are right and wrong inverted; so many wars overrun the world, 
	sin walks in so many shapes; respect for the plough is gone; 
	our lands, robbed of the tillers, lie waste, 
	and curved pruning hooks are forged into straight blades. 
	Here Euphrates, there Germany, calls to arms; 
510	breaking the covenants which bind them, neighbouring cities 
	draw the sword; the god of unholy strife rages throughout the world, 
	even as when from the starting gates the chariots stream forth 
	and gather speed lap by lap, while the driver, tugging vainly at the reins, 
	is carried along by his steeds, and the car heeds not the curb!