You, too, great Pales, we will sing, and you, famed shepherd 
	of Amphyrus, and you, woods and streams of Lycaeus. 
	Other themes, which else had charmed with song some idle fancy, 
	are now all trite. Who knows not pitiless Eurystheus, 
5	or the altars of detested Busiris? 
	Who has not told of the boy Hylas, of Latona’s Delos, 
	of Hippodame, and Pelops, famed for ivory shoulder, 
	and fearless with his steeds? I must essay a path whereby I, too, 
	may rise from earth and fly victorious on the lips of men. 
10	I first, if life but remain, will return to my country, 
	bringing the Muses with me in triumph from the Aonian peak; 
	first I will bring back to you, Mantua, the palms of Idumaea, 
	and on the green plain will set up a temple in marble 
	beside the water, where great Mincius wanders in lazy windings 
15	and fringes his banks with slender reeds. 
	In the midst I will have Caesar, and he shall possess the shrine. 
	In his honour I, a victor resplendent in Tyrian purple, 
	will drive a hundred four-horse chariots beside the stream. 
	For me all Greece will leave Alpheus and the groves of Molorcus, 
20	to compete in the foot race and with the brutal boxing glove. 
	My brows graced with leaves of cut olive, I myself 
	will award the prizes. Even now I long to escort the stately procession 
	to the shrine and witness the slaughter of steers; 
	and see how Britons raise the crimson 
25	curtain they are woven into. 
	On the temple doors I have sculptured in solid gold and ivory 
	the battle of Ganges’ hordes and the arms of conquering Quirites; 
	there, too, the Nile in flood and billowing with war, 
	and lofty columns clad with the bronze prows of hostile fleets. 
30	I will add Asia’s vanquished cities, the routed Niphates, 
	and the Parthian relying on flight and arrows launched behind him; 
	two trophies snatched by force from far-sundered foes, 
	and the two nations that yielded a double triumph from Ocean’s either shore. 
	Here in Parian marble shall stand statues breathing life, 
35	the lineage of Assaracus and the glorious names of Jupiter’s race, 
	Tros, our ancestor, and Cynthian Apollo, architect of Troy. 
	Wretched Envy shall cower before the Furies and Hell’s 
	stern stream, before the snaky bonds and ghastly wheel of Ixion, 
	and the stone beyond the tricker’s mastering.
	
40	Meanwhile, haste we to the Dryad’s woodlands and untrodden 
	glades, no easy task, Maecenas, that you have laid upon me. 
	Without your inspiration my mind can essay no lofty theme; arise then, 
	break with slow delay! With mighty clamour Cithaeron calls, 
	and Taygetus’ hounds and Epidaurus, tamer of horses; 
45	and the cry, doubled by the applauding groves, rings back. 
	Yet anon I will gird me to sing Caesar’s fiery fights, 
	and bear his name in story through as many years 
	as Caesar is distant from the far-off birth of Tithonus.
	
	Whether a man aspires to the prize of Olympia’s palm 
50	and breeds horses, or rears bullocks, strong for the plough, 
	let his chief care be to choose the mould of the dams. The best-formed 
	cow is fierce looking, her head ugly, her neck thick, 
	and her dewlaps hanging down from chin to legs. 
	Moreover, her long flank has no limit; all points are large, 
55	even the feet; and under the crooked horns are shaggy ears. 
	Nor should I dislike one marked with white spots, 
	or impatient of the yoke, at times fierce with the horn, 
	and more like a bull in face; tall throughout, 
	and as she steps sweeping her footprints with the tail’s tip. 
60	The age to bear motherhood and lawful wedlock ends 
	before the tenth year, and begins after the fourth; 
	the rest of their life is neither fit for breeding nor strong for the plough. 
	Meantime, while lusty youth still abides in the herds, 
	let loose the males; be first to send your cattle to mate, 
65	and supply stock after stock by breeding. 
	Life’s fairest days are ever the first to flee 
	for hapless mortals; on creep diseases, and gloomy age, 
	and suffering; and stern death’s ruthlessness sweeps us away. 
	Ever will there be some cows whose mould you would wish to change; 
70	ever, I pray, renew them, and, lest too late you regret your losses, 
	keep in advance, and year by year choose new stock for the herd.
	
	Likewise for your breed of horses is the same choice needed. 
	Only, upon those whom you mean to rear for the hope of the race, 
	be sure to spend special pains, even from their early youth. 
75	From the first, the foal of a noble breed steps 
	higher in the fields and brings down his feet lightly. 
	Boldly he leads the way, braves threatening rivers, 
	entrusts himself to an untried bridge, 
	and stars not at idle sounds. His neck is high, 
80	his head clean-cut, his belly short, his back plump, 
	and his gallant chest is rich in muscles. Good colours 
	are bay and grey; the worst, white and dun. 
	Again, should he but hear afar the clash of arms, 
	he cannot keep his place; he pricks up his ears, quivers his limbs, 
85	and snorting rolls beneath his nostrils the gathered fire. 
	His mane is thick and, as he tosses it, falls back on his right shoulder. 
	A double ridge runs along his loins; his hoof scoops out 
	the ground, and the solid horn gives it a deep ring. 
	Such was Cyllarus, tamed by the reins of Amyclaean Pollux, 
90	and those whose fame Greek poets recount, 
	the two steeds of Mars, and the pair of the great Achilles. 
	Such, too, was Saturn himself, when at his wife’s coming 
	he fled swiftly, flinging his horse’s mane over his shoulders, 
	and with shrill neigh filled the heights of Pelion.
	
95	Yet even such a steed do you shut up in the stalls when he begins to fail, 
96	worn with disease and burdened with years; and pity not his inglorious old age, 
120	though of the has driven the foe in flight 
	and claims Epirus or valiant Mycenae for his birthplace, 
122	and traces his line to Neptune himself for founder. 
97	The aged stallion is cold to passion, and he vainly struggles 
	with a thankless task; when he comes to the fray his ardour is futile--
	as when a great fire rages in the stubble, but there is not 
100	strength in it. Therefore note above all their spirit 
	and years; then, other merits and the stock of their sires, 
	the grief each shows at defeat or the pride in victory. 
	See you not, when in headlong contest the chariots have seized 
	upon the plain, and stream in a torrent from the barrier, 
105	when the young drivers’ hopes are high, and throbbing fear 
	drains each bounding heart? On they press with circling lash, 
	bending forward to slacken rein; fiercely flies the glowing wheel. 
	Now sinking low, now raised aloft, they seem to be borne 
	through empty air and to soar skyward. 
110	No rest, not stay is there; but a cloud of yellow sand mounts 
	aloft, and they are wet with the foam and the breath of those in pursuit: 
	so strong is their love of renown, so dear is triumph. 
	Erichthonius first dared to couple four steeds to the car, 
	and to stand victorious over the flying wheels. 
115	The Thessalian Lapiths, mounting the horse’s back, gave us 
	the bit and the circling course, and taught the horseman, in full armour, 
	to gallop over the earth and round his proud paces. 
	Equal to either task; equally the trainers seek out 
119	a young steed, hot of spirit and keen in the race.
	
123	These points noted, they bestir themselves, as the time draws near, 
	and take all heed to fill out with firm flesh him 
125	whom they have chosen as leader and assigned as lord of the herd. 
	They cut him flowering grasses, and give fresh water 
	and corn, that he may be more than equal to the seductive toil, 
	and no feeble offspring may repeat the leanness of the sires. 
	But the mares themselves they purposely make spare, 
130	and when now the familiar pleasure first prompts them 
	to union, they withhold leafy fodder and debar them from the springs. 
	Oft, too, they rouse them to the gallop and tire them in the sun, 
	when the floor groans heavily as the corn is threshed, 
	and the empty chaff is tossed to the freshening Zephyr. 
135	This they do that by surfeit the usefulness of the fruitful soil 
	be not dulled, or the sluggish furrows clogged, 
	but that it may thirstily seize upon the seed, and store it deep within.
	
	In turn, care, for the sires begins to wane, and that for the dams 
	to take its place. When their months are fulfilled and they roam 
140	heavy with young, then let no one suffer them to draw the yokes 
	of heavy wagons, or leap across the pathway, or scour 
	the meadows in swift flight, or stem the swirling current. 
	They feed them in open glades and by the side of brimming 
	rivers, where moss grows and the banks are greenest with grass, 
145	where grottoes may shelter them and the shadow of a rock be cast afar. 
	Round the groves of Silarus and the green holm oaks 
	of Alburnus swarms a fly, whose Roman name 
	is asilus, but the Greeks have called it in their speech oestrus. 
	Fierce it is, and sharp of note; before it whole herds scatter in terror 
150	through the woods: with their bellowings the air is stunned 
	and maddened, the groves, too, and the banks of parched Tanager. 
	With this monster Juno once wreaked her awful wrath, 
	when she devised a pest for the heifer maid of Inachus. 
	This, too--for in midday heat more fierce is its attack--
155	you will keep from the pregnant herd, and will feed the flock 
	when the sun is new-risen, or the stars usher in the night.
	
	After birth, all care passes to the calves, 
	and at once they brand them with the mark and name of the stock, 
	setting apart those they wish to rear for breeding, 
160	to keep sacred for the altar, to set to cleave the soil 
	and turn up the field, rough with its broken clods. 
	The rest of the cattle graze in the green pastures; 
	but school while yet calves those that you will shape 
	for the farm’s pursuits and service; enter on the path of training 
165	while their youthful spirits are docile, while their age is still pliant. 
	And, first, fasten about their shoulders loose circles 
	of slender osier; then when their free necks 
	are used to servitude, yoke the bullocks in pairs linked from 
	the collars themselves, and force them to step together. 
170	Then let them now draw empty carts often over the land, 
	and print their tracks on the surface of the dust. 
	Later, let the beechen axle creak and strain under its 
	heavy load and a brass-bound pole drag the coupled wheels. 
	Meanwhile you will not feed their unbroken youth 
175	on grass alone or poor willow leaves and marshy sedge, 
	but on young corn, plucked by hand; nor will your mother-cows 
	fill the snowy pails, as in our fathers’ days, 
	but will spend all their udders’ wealth on their dear offspring.
	
	But if your bent is more towards war and proud squadrons, 
180	or to glide on wheels by Pisa’s Alphean waters, 
	and in Jupiter’s grove to drive the flying car, 
	then the steed’s first task is to view the arms of gallant 
	warriors, to bear the trumpet call, to endure the groaning 
	of the dragged wheel, and to hear the jingle of bits in the stall; 
185	then more and more to delight in his trainer’s caressing praise, 
	and to love the sound of patting his neck. 
	And this let him venture, soon as he is weaned from his mother, 
	and now and again let him entrust his mouth to soft halters, 
	while still weak and trembling, still ignorant of life. 
190	But when three summers are past and the fourth is come, 
	let him soon begin to run round the circuit, to make his steps 
	ring evenly, to bend his legs in alternating curves, 
	and be as one hard labouring: then, then let him challenge 
	the winds to a race, and, skimming over the open plains, as though free 
195	from reins, let him scarce plant his steps on the surface of the sand--
	and when the gathered North Wind swoops down from 
	Hyperborean coasts, driving on Scythia’s storms and dry 
	clouds, then the deep cornfields and the watery plains quiver 
	under the gentle gusts, the treetops rustle, 
200	and long rollers press shoreward; 
	on flies the wind, sweeping his flight the fields and seas alike. 
	Such a horse will either sweat toward the Elean goal, 
	over the vast courses of the plain, and fling from his mouth 
	bloody foam, or will bear more nobly with docile neck the Belgian car. 
205	Then at last, when the colts are now broken, 
	let their bodies wax plump with coarse mash; for ere the breaking 
	they will raise their mettle too high, and when caught will scorn 
	to submit to the pliant lash, or obey the cruel curb.
	
	But no care so strengthens their powers 
210	as to keep from them desire and the stings of secret passion, 
	whether one’s choice is to deal with cattle or with horses. 
	Therefore men banish the bull to lonely pastures afar, 
	beyond a mountain barrier and across broad rivers, 
	or keep him well mewed beside full mangers. 
215	For the sight of the female slowly inflames and wastes 
	his strength, nor, look you, does she, with her soft enchantments, 
	suffer him to remember woods or pastures; oft she drives 
	her proud lovers to settle their mutual contest with clash of horns. 
	She is grazing in Sila’s great forest, a lovely heifer: 
220	the bulls in alternate onset join battle with mighty force; 
	many a wound they deal, black gore bathes their frames, 
	amid mighty bellowing the leveled horns are driven against 
	the butting foe; the woods and the sky, from end to end, re-echo. 
	Nor is it the rivals’ wont to herd together, but the vanquished one 
225	departs, and dwells an exile in unknown scenes afar. 
	Much does he bewail his shame, and the blows of his haughty 
	conqueror, and much the love he ahs lost unavenged--
	then, with a wistful at his stall, he as quitted his ancestral realm. 
	Therefore with all heed he trains his powers, and on 
230	an unstrewn couch, among flinty rocks, lies through the night, 
	with prickly leaves and pointed sedge for fare. 
	Anon he tests himself, and, learning to throw wrath into his horns, 
	charges a tree’s trunks; he lashes the winds with blows, 
	and paws the sand in prelude for the fray. 
235	Soon, when his power is mustered and his strength renewed, 
	he advances the colours, and dashes headlong on his unmindful foe: 
	as, when a wave begins to whiten in mid-sea, 
	from the farther deep it arches its curve, and, rolling 
	shoreward, roars thundering along the reefs, and, 
240	huge as a very mountain, falls prone, while from below 
	the water boils up in eddies, and tosses black sand aloft.
	
	Every single race on earth, man and beast, 
	the tribes of the sea, cattle and birds brilliant of hue, 
	rush into fires of passion: all feel the same Love. 
245	At no other season does the lioness forget her cubs, or prowl over 
	the plains more fierce; never does the shapeless bear spread 
	death and havoc so widely through the forest; 
	then savage is the boar, then most fell the tigress. 
	Ah! it is ill faring then in Libya’s lonely fields! 
250	See you not how a trembling thrills through the steed’s 
	whole frame, if the scent has but brought him the familiar breezes? 
	No longer now can the rider’s rein or the cruel lash stay his course, 
	nor rocks and hollow cliffs, nay, nor opposing rivers, 
	that tear up mountains and hurl them down the wave. 
255	On rushes the great Sabine boar; he whets his tusks, 
	his foot paws the ground in front, he rubs his sides against a tree, 
	and on either flank hardens his shoulders against wounds. 
	What of the youth, in whose marrow fierce Love fans 
	the mighty flame? Lo! in the turmoil of bursting storms, late 
260	in the black night, he swims the straits. Above him thunders 
	Heaven’s mighty portal, and the billows, dashing on the cliffs, 
	echo the cry; yet neither his hapless parent can call him back, 
	nor though of the maiden doomed to die on his untimely corpse. 
	What of Bacchus’ spotted lynxes, and the fierce tribe of wolves 
265	and dogs? What of the battles fought by peaceful stags? 
	But surely the madness of mares surpasses all. 
	Venus herself inspired their frenzy, when the four 
	Potnian steeds tore with their jaws the limbs of Glaucus. 
	Love leads them over Gargarus and over the roaring 
270	Ascanius; they scale mountains, they swim rivers. 
	And, soon as the flame has stolen into their craving marrow 
	(chiefly in spring, for in spring the heart returns to their breasts), 
	they all, with faced turned to the Zephyrs, stand on a high cliff, 
	and drink the gentle breezes. Then oft, without any wedlock, 
275	pregnant with the wind (a wondrous tale!) 
	they flee over rocks and crags and lowly dales, 
	not towards your rising, East Wind, nor the Sun’s, 
	but to the North, and the Northwest, or thither whence rises 
	the blackest South, saddening the sky with chilly rain. 
280	Then, and then only, does the slimy “horse madness,” 
	as shepherds rightly name it, drip slowly from the groin--
	horse-madness, which cruel stepdames often gather, 
	mixing herbs and baleful spells.
	
	But time meanwhile is flying, flying beyond recall, while we, 
285	charmed with love of our theme, linger around each detail! 
	Enough this for the herds; there remains the second part of my task, 
	to tend the fleecy flocks and shaggy goats. 
	Here is toil, hence hope for fame, yet sturdy yeomen! 
	And well I now how hard it is to win with words 
290	a triumph herein, and thus to crown with glory a lowly theme. 
	But sweet desire hurries me over the lonely steeps 
	of Parnassus; joyous it is to roam o’er heights, where no 
	forerunner’s track turns by a gentle slope down to Castalia. 
	Now, worshipful Pales, now must we sing in lofty strain.

295	First I decree that the sheep crop the herbage 
	in soft pens, till leafy summer soon returns, 
	and that you strew the hard ground beneath them with straw 
	and handfuls of fern, lest the chill ice harm 
	the tender flock, bringing scab and unsightly foot rot. 
300	Passing hence, I next bid you give the goats much leafy 
	arbutus, offering them fresh running water, 
	and placing the stalls away from the winds towards the winter sun, 
	to face the south, at the time when the cold 
	Water Bearer is now setting, sprinkling the departing year. 
305	These goats, too, we must guard with no lighter care, 
	and not less will be the profit, albeit the fleeces 
	of Miletus, steeped in Tyrian purple, are bartered for a high price. 
	From them is a larger progeny, from them a plenteous store of milk; 
	the more the milk pail has foamed from the drained udder, 
310	the more richly will flow the streams, when again the teats are pressed. 
	Nor less, meanwhile, do herdsmen clip the beard 
	on the hoary chin of the Cinyphian goat, and shear his hairy bristles, 
	for the need of camps, and as coverings for hapless sailors. 
	Again, they feed in the woods and on the summits of Lycaeus 
315	among the prickly briars and the hill-loving brakes; 
	and of themselves are mindful to return home, leading their kids, 
	and scarce able to overtop the threshold with their teeming udders. 
	Therefore, the less they need man’s care, the more zealously 
	should you screen them from frost and snowy blasts, 
320	gladly bringing them their food and provender of twigs, 
	and closing not your hay lofts throughout the winter.

	But when, at the Zephyr’s call, joyous Summer sends 
	both sheep and goats to the glades and pastures, 
	let us haste to the cool fields, as the morning star begins to rise, 
325	while the day is young, while the grass is hoar, 
	and the dew on the tender blade most sweet to the cattle. 
	Then, when heaven’s fourth hour has brought thirst to all, 
	and the plaintive cicadas thrill the thickets with song, 
	I will bid the flocks at the side of wells or deep pools 
330	drink of the water that runs in oaken channels. 
	But in midday heat let them seek out a shady dell, 
	anywhere that Jove’s mighty oak with its ancient trunk 
	stretches out giant branches, or where some grove, 
	black with many holms, lies brooding with hallowed shade. 
335	Then give them once more the trickling stream, and once more 
	feed them till sunset, when the cool star of eve freshens 
	the air, and the moon, now dropping dew, gives strength to the glades, 
	when the shores ring with the halcyon, and the copses with the finch.
	
	Why follow for you in song the shepherds of Libya, their pastures, 
340	and the settlements where they dwell in scattered huts? 
	Often, day and night, and a whole month through, 
	the flocks feed and roman into the desert stretches, 
	with no shelters; so vast a plain lies outstretched. The African herdsman 
	takes with him his all--his house and home, 
345	his arms, his Spartan dog and Cretan quiver--
	even as the valiant Roman, when, arrayed in his country’s arms, 
	he hastens on his march under a cruel load, and, ere the foe 
	awaits him, halts his column and pitches his camp.
	
	Far otherwise is it where dwell the tribes of Scythia by the waters of Maeotis, 
350	where the turbid Danube tosses his yellow sands, 
	and where Rhodope bends back, stretching up the central pole. 
	There they keep the herds penned up in stalls, and no 
	blade is seen upon the plain, or leaf upon the tree; 
	but far and wide earth lies shapeless under mounds 
355	of snow and piles of ice, rising seven cubits high. 
	‘Tis even winter; ever Northwest blasts, with icy breath. 
	Then, too, never does the Sun scatter the pale mists, 
	either when, borne on his chariot, he climbs high heaven, or when 
	he laves his headlong car in Ocean’s crimson plain. 
360	Sudden ice crusts form on the running stream, 
	and anon the water bears on its surface iron-bound wheels--
	giving welcome once to ships, but now to broad wains! 
	Everywhere brass splits, clothes freeze on the back, 
	and with axes they cleave the liquid wine; 
365	whole lakes turn into a solid mass, 
	and the rough icicle hardens on the unkempt beard. 
	No less, meanwhile, does the snow fill the sky; 
	the cattle perish, the oxen’s great frames stand 
	sheathed in frost, the deer in crowded herd 
370	are numb under the strange mass and above scarce rise the tips of their horns. 
	These they hunt not by unloosing hounds, or laying nets, 
	or alarming with a scare of the crimson feather, 
	but as their breasts vainly strain against that mountain rampart 
	men slay them, steel in hand, cut them down 
375	bellowing piteously, and bear them home with loud shouts of joy. 
	Themselves, in deep-dug caves, low in the earth, 
	they live careless and at ease, rolling to the hearths heaps of logs, 
	whole elm trees, and throwing them on the fire. 
	Here they spend the night in play, and with barm 
380	and sour service berries joyously mimic draughts of wine. 
	Such is the race of men lying under the Wain’s seven stars 
	in the far north, a wild race, buffeted by the Riphaean East Wind, 
	their bodies clothed in the tawny furs of beasts.
	
	If wool be your care, first clear away the prickly 
385	growth of burs and caltrops; shun rich pastures, 
	and from the first choose flocks with white, soft fleeces. 
	But the ram, however white be his fleece, 
	if he have but a black tongue under his moist palate, 
	cast out, lest with dusky spots he tarnish the coats of the newborn 
390	lambs; and look about for another in your teeming field. 
	‘Twas with gift of such snowy wool, if we may trust the tale, 
	that Pan, Arcadia’s god, charmed and beguiled you, 
	O Moon, calling you to the depths of the woods; nor did you scorn his call.
	
	But let him who longs for milk bring with his own hand 
395	lucerne and lotus in plenty and slated herbage to the stalls. 
	Thus they love streams the more, and the more distend 
	their udders, wile their milk recalls a lurking savour of salt. 
	Many bar the kids from the dams as soon as born, 
	and from the first front their mouths with iron-bound muzzles. 
400	What milk they drew at sunrise of day, they press into cheese 
	at night; what they drew at night or sunset, they press 
	at dawn: they ship it in baskets which a shepherd takes to town, 
	or else they salt it sparingly and put it by for the winter.
	
	Nor let the care of dogs be last in your thoughts, but fed 
405	swift Spartan whelps and fierce Molossians alike 
	on fattening whey. Never, with them on guard, 
	need you fear for your stalls a midnight thief, or onslaught of wolves, 
	or restless Spaniards in your rear. 
	Oft, too, you will course the shy wild ass, 
410	and with hounds will hunt the hare, with hounds the doe. 
	Oft you will rout the boar from his forest lair, 
	driving him forth with the baying pack, and o’er the high hills 
	with loud cry will force a huge stag into the nets.
	
	Learn, too, to burn in your stalls fragrant cedar 
415	and with fumes of Syrian gum to banish the noisome water snakes. 
	Often under uncleansed sheds has lurked a viper, deadly to touch, 
	and shrunk in terror from the light; 
	or an adder, sore plague of cows, that is wont to glide 
	under the sheltering thatch and sprinkle venom on the cattle, 
420	has hugged the ground. Snatch up in your hand, shepherd, 
	snatch stones and staves, and as he rises in menace and swells his hissing neck, 
	strike him down! Lo, now in flight he has buried deep his frightened head, 
	while his mid coils and the end of his writhing tail are still 
	untwining themselves, and the last curve slowly drags its folds. 
425	There is, too, that deadly serpent in Calabria’s glades, 
	wreathing its scaly back, its breast erect, 
	and its long belly mottled with large spots. 
	So long as any streams gush from their founts, 
	so long as earth is wet with spring’s moisture and showery south winds, 
430	he haunts the pools, and, dwelling on the banks, 
	there greedily fills his black maw with fish and croaking frogs. 
	But when the fen is burnt up, and the soil gapes with heat, 
	he spring forth to dry land and, rolling his blazing eyes, 
	rages in the fields, fierce with thirst and frenzies with the heat. 
435	Let me not then be tempted to woo soft sleep beneath the open sky, 
	or to lie outstretched in the grass on some wooded slope, 
	when, his slough cast off, fresh and glistening in youth, 
	he rolls along, leaving his young or eggs at home, 
	towering towards the sun, and darting from his mouth a three-forked tongue!
	
440	Diseases, too, their causes and tokens, I will teach you. 
	Foul scab attacks sheep, when chilly rain and winter, 
	bristling with hoar frost, have sunk deep into the quick, 
	or when the sweat, unwashed, clings to the shorn flock, 
	and prickly briars tear the flesh. 
445	Therefore the keepers bathe the whole flock 
	in fresh streams; the ram is plunged in the pool 
	with his dripping fleece, and let loose to float down the current. 
	Or, after shearing, they smear the body with bitter oil lees, 
	blending sliver scum and native sulphur 
450	with pitch from Ida and richly oiled wax, 
	squill, strong hellebore, and black bitumen. 
	Yet no help for their ills is of more avail 
	than when one has dared to cut open with steel 
	the ulcer’s head; the mischief thrives and lives by concealment, 
455	while the shepherd refuses to lay healing hands 
	on the wounds, and sits idle, calling upon the gods for happier omens. 
	Nay more, when the pain runs to the very marrow of the bleating victims, 
	there to rage, and when the parching fever preys on the limbs, 
	it is well to turn aside the fiery heat, and within the hoof 
460	to lance a vein, throbbing with blood, 
	even as he Bisaltae are wont to do, and the keen Gelonian, 
	when he flees to Rhodope and the wilds of the Getae, 
	and there drinks milk curdled with horses’ blood. 
	Should you see a sheep oft withdraw afar into 
465	the soft shade, or listlessly nibble the top of the grass, 
	lagging in the rear, or sink while grazing in the midst 
	of the field and retire, late and lonely, before night’s advance, 
	straightway with the knife check the offence, 
	ere the dread taint spreads through the unwary throng. 
470	Not so thick with driving gales sweeps a whirlwind from the sea, 
	as scourges swarm among cattle. Not single victims 
	do diseases seize, but a whole summer’s fold in one stroke, 
	the flock and the hope of the flock, and the whole race, root and branch. 
	Of this may one be witness, should he see--even now, so long after--
475	the towering Alps and the forest of the Noric hills, 
	and the fields of Illyrian Timavus and the shepherds’ realm 
	derelict, and their glades far and wide untenanted.
	
	On this land from the sickened sky there once came 
	a piteous season that glowed with autumns full heat. 
480	Every tribe of cattle, tame or wild, it swept to death; 
	it poisoned the lakes, it tainted the pastures with venom. 
	Nor was the pathway to death uniform; but when the fiery thirst 
	had coursed through all the veins and shriveled the hapless limbs, 
	in its turn a watery humour welled up and drew into itself 
485	all the bones, as piecemeal they melted with disease. 
	Often in the midst of divine rites, the victim, standing by the altar, 
	even as the woolen fillet’s snowy band was passed around its brow, 
	fell in death’s throes amid the tardy ministrants. 
	Or if, before that, the priest had slain a victim with the knife, 
490	yet the altars blazed not therewith, as the entrails were laid on; 
	the seer, when consulted, could give no response; 
	the knife beneath the throat is scarce stained with blood, 
	and only the surface sand is darkened with the thin gore. 
	Then on every side amid gladsome herbage the young cows die 
495	or yield up sweet life by their full folds. 
	Then madness visits fawning hounds; a racking cough 
	shakes the sickening swine and chokes them with swollen throats. 
	The steed, once victor, sinks; failing in his efforts and forgetful of the grass, 
	he turns from the spring, and beasts the ground repeatedly 
500	with his hoof; his hears droop, on them breaks out a fitful sweat--
	sweat that is cold as death draws nigh; the skin 
	is dry and, hard to the touch, withstands the stroking hand. 
	Such are the signs they yield before death in the first days; 
	but as in its course the sickness grows fierce, 
505	then the eyes blaze, the breath is drawn deep--
	at times laden with moans--their utmost flanks 
	are strained with long-drawn sobs, black blood gushes 
	from the nostrils, and the rough tongue chokes the blockaded throat. 
	It has availed to pour in wine-juice through a horn inserted--
510	this seemed the one hope for the dying. 
	Soon even this led to death; they burned with the fury 
	of fresh strength, and, though now in the weakness of death 
	(Heaven grant a happier lot to the good, and such madness to our foes!), 
	rent and mangled their own limbs with bared teeth.
	
515	But lo, the bull, smoking under the ploughshare’s weight, 
	falls; from his mouth he spurts blood, mingled with foam, 
	and heaves his dying groans. Sadly goes the ploughman, 
	unyokes the steer that sorrows for his brother’s death, 
	and amid its half-done task leaves the share rooted fast. 
520	No shades of deep woods, no soft meadows 
	can touch his heart, no stream purer than amber, 
	rolling over the rocks in its course towards the plain; but his flanks 
	are unstrung throughout, numbness weighs upon his languid eyes, 
	and his neck sinks with drooping weight to earth. 
525	Of what avail is his toil or his services? What avails it, 
	that he turned with the share the heavy clod? And yet no Massic gifts 
	of Bacchus, no feasts, oft renewed, did harm to him and his. 
	They feed on leaves and simply grass; 
	their cups are clear spring and rivers racing 
530	in their course, and no care breaks their healthful slumbers.
	
	Only at that time, they say, were cattle in those regions 
	sought in vain for the rites of Juno, and chariots 
	were drawn by ill-matched buffaloes to her lofty treasure house. 
	Therefore men painfully scratch the earth with harrows, 
535	with their own nails bury the seed, and over the high hills 
	with straining necks drag the creaking wains. 
	The wolf tries not his wiles around the sheepfold, 
	nor prowls by night about the flocks; a keener care 
	tames him. Timorous deer and shy stags 
540	now stray among the hounds and about the houses. 
	Yea, the brood of the great deep, and all swimming things, 
	like shipwrecked corpses, are washed up by the waves 
	on the verge of the shore; in strange wise sea calves flee to the rivers. 
	The viper, too, vainly defended in her winding lairs, 
545	perishes, and the water snake, his scales erect in terror. 
	The air is unkind even to the birds; headlong 
	they fall, leaving life beneath the clouds on high. 
	Further, even change of pasture avails no more; 
	the remedies sought work harm; masters in the art fail, 
550	Chiron, son of Phillyra, and Melampus, Amythaon’s son. 
	Ghastly Tisiphone rages, and, let forth into light 
	from Stygian gloom, drives before her Disease and Dread, 
	while day by day, uprising, she rears still higher her greedy head. 
	The rivers and thirsty banks and sloping hills echo to
555	 the bleating of flocks and incessant lowing of cattle. 
	And now in droves she deals out death, and in the very stalls 
	piles up the bodies, rotting with putrid foulness, 
	till men learnt to cover them in earth and bury them in pits. 
	For neither might the hides be used, nor could one 
560	cleanse the flesh by water or master it by fire. 
	They could not even shear the fleeces, eaten up 
	with sores and filth, nor touch the rotten web. 
	Nay, if any man donned the loathsome garb, 
	feverish blisters and foul sweat would run along 
565	his fetid limbs, and he had not long to wait before 
	the accursed fire was feeding on his stricken limbs.