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Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields read more
Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers,
free from all anxieties of gain.
[Lat., Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
Solutus omni faenore.]
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How read more
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.
Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]
A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]
Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro read more
Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro oculum domini esse dixerunt.]
The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens read more
The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens agricola, quarum adspiciet baccam
ipse numquam.]
Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds read more
Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds are rolled
Its waves of emerald and gold.
