farmers' Virgil

​O farmers, more than happy if they’ve realised their blessings,
for whom Earth unprompted, supreme in justice, pours out
a rich livelihood from her soil, far from the clash of armies!
If no tall mansion with proud entrance disgorges a tide of guests
at dawn, if they don’t gaze at doors inlaid with tortoiseshell,
clothes threaded with gold, or bronzes from Ephyra,
if their white wool’s not dipped in Assyrian dyes,
nor the clear oil they use spoiled by rosemary,
still there’s no lack of tranquil peace, life without deceit,
rich in many things, the quiet of broad estates
(caves, and natural lakes, and cool valleys,
the cattle lowing, and sweet sleep under the trees):
they have glades in the woods, and haunts of game,
a youth of patient effort, accustomed to hardship,
worship of the gods, and respect for old age: Justice,
as she left the Earth, planted her last steps among them.
As for me, may the sweet Muses, supreme above all,
 
O fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint,
agricolas! quibus ipsa procul discordibus armis
fundit humo facilem victum iustissima tellus.
si non ingentem foribus domus alta superbis
mane salutantum totis vomit aedibus undam,
nec varios inhiant pulchra testudine postis
inlusasque auro uestis Ephyreiaque aera,
alba neque Assyrio fucatur lana veneno,
nec casia liquidi corrumpitur usus olivi;
at secura quies et nescia fallere vita,
diues opum uariarum, at latis otia fundis,
speluncae vivique lacus, at frigida tempe
mugitusque boum mollesque sub arbore somni
non absunt; illic saltus ac lustra ferarum
et patiens operum exiguoque adsueta iuventus,
sacra deum sanctique patres; extrema per illos
Iustitia excedens terris vestigia fecit,
 
BKII: 458-542 The Joys of True Life
Publius Vergilius Maro, b. Cisalpine Gaul 70 BC, d. Brindisi, Italy 19 BC