Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles! —As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea, Descried at sunrise an emerging prow Lifting the cool-hair'd creepers stealthily, The fringes of a southward-facing brow Among the Ægæan Isles; And saw the merry Grecian coaster come, Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian wine, Green, bursting figs, and tunnies steep'd in brine— And knew the intruders on his ancient home, The young light-hearted masters of the waves— And snatch'd his rudder, and shook out more sail; And day and night held on indignantly O'er the blue Midland waters with the gale, Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily, To where the Atlantic raves Outside the western straits; and unbent sails There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets of foam, Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come; And on the beach undid his corded bales.

at fuge, verba pavens hominum blandamque salutem! ceu vidit Tyrius gravis emptor in aequore vectus luce nova procul elapsam per vimina proram tollere clam gelidas frondes, qua cincta corona Australem Aegaeo solem excipit insula ponto : namque hilaris Chioque mero fulvoque racemo et sale perfusis thunnis adfertur onustus Graecorum linter: necnon viret ubera ficus: ipse autem insolitos sentit regnare per undas corde hilari iuvenes, sentitque tenere vetustos et penetrasse lares: raptim moderamine prenso vela movet panditque, dies noctesque secutus indignans cursum: maris aequora caerula nostri transit per terras: quem provehit Eurus euntem. laeva Syrtis erat, dulcis Trinacria dextra; Hesperiumque fretum subit Oceanumque furentem. hic rupe et nebula et spuma delapsus opaca vix audens tentat commercia fuscus Hiberus. hic demum exonerat malum: nodisque solutis extemplo in media merces ostendit harena.

Valle locus Clausa toto mihi nullus in orbe     gratior aut studiis aptior ora meis. Valle puer Clausa fueram, iuvenemque reversum     fovit in aprico vallis amena sinu. Valle vir in Clausa meliores dulciter annos     exegi et vitae candida fila meae. Valle senex Clausa supremum ducere tempus     et Clausa cupio, te duce, Valle mori.

No place in all the world is dearer to me or worthier of my affection than the Closed Valley. As a boy I had been in the Closed Valley, and when I returned as a youth, the lovely valley nurtured me in its ripe bosom. As a man I eked out my better years and the white threads of my life, with sweetness, in the Closed Valley. As an old man I desire to pass my last days in the Closed Valley; and in the Closed Valley, in your service, to die.

Impia iamdudum condemno silentia, quod te, o patria, insignem Baccho fluviisque virisque, moribus ingeniisque hominum procerumque senatu, non inter primas memorem, quasi conscius urbis exiguae inmeritas dubitem contingere laudes. non pudor hinc nobis; nec enim mihi barbara Rheni ora nec arctoo domus est glacialis in Haemo: BURDIGALA est natale solum; dementia caeli mitis ubi et riguae larga indulgentia terrae, ver longum brumaeque novo cum sole tepentes aestifluique amnes, quorum iuga vitea subter fervent aequoreos imitata fluenta meatus, …

You, my homeland, left till last? That unseemliness is past! Souls, wines, rivers, famous all, Wit and wisdom, City Hall... Well aware that you are small, Did I fear to overpraise? Being small is no disgrace! Not the cold barbarian Rhine, Not the arctic peaks of Thrace, No such glacial home is mine: Bordeaux is my native place. Temperate the skies and mild, Fertile lands that early smiled, Winters warmed in newborn sun, Springs full-blown, where rivers run Like the seas with foaming tides, Vineyards clinging to their sides...

Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem, non secus in bonis     ab insolenti temperatam     laetitia, moriture Delli, seu maestus omni tempore vixeris               seu te in remoto gramine per dies     festos reclinatum bearis     interiore nota Falerni. Quo pinus ingens albaque populus umbram hospitalem consociare amant                    ramis? Quid obliquo laborat     lympha fugax trepidare rivo? Huc vina et unguenta et nimium brevis flores amoenae ferre iube rosae,     dum res et aetas et Sororum     fila trium patiuntur atra. Cedes coemptis saltibus et domo villaque, flavus quam Tiberis lavit,     cedes, et exstructis in altum     divitiis potietur heres.    Divesne prisco natus ab Inacho nil interest an pauper et infima     de gente sub divo moreris,     victima nil miserantis Orci; omnes eodem cogimur, omnium                versatur urna serius ocius     sors exitura et nos in aeternum     exilium impositura cumbae.

Remember, keep a level mind when things get steep; and in the good times equally tone down your overweening joy: Dooley, you’re bound to die, whether you’ve been a lifelong glum, or, sprawled through merry days on grass remote, you’ve blessed your guts with glass of Mouton from the adytum. Do a pale poplar and a pine give welcome shade, in love combine their branches? Does the fleeting water (nymph, lymph, serpentine)* shudder and strain, where slant walls thwart her? Send out for wines, for oils, perfumes, and roses’ neverlasting blooms! Defy decay! Forestall mischance! No Norns with yarns! Act fast! Advance!   Write off your hoarded hills, your mansion, your glebe with Tiber’s rolled gold sands on. Your stack of wonga’s true possessor is your successor. A plutocrat with pedigree: Blood-Sacrifice! or you could be a destitute, obscure rough sleeper… Slaughtered! Served up to Lord Grim Reaper. One way! We’re forced, coerced, for sooner or l- ater, our fate’s a well-urned funeral that’s sure to dump us down the river. Ferried out! Banned for ever.

Caelo tonantem credidimus Iovem regnare: praesens divus habebitur      Augustus adiectis Britannis       imperio gravibusque Persis. Milesne Crassi coniuge barbara                turpis maritus vixit et hostium,      pro curia inuersique mores!       consenuit socerorum in armis sub rege Medo Marsus et Apulus anciliorum et nominis et togae                     oblitus aeternaeque Vestae,       incolumi Iove et urbe Roma? Hoc caverat mens provida Reguli dissentientis condicionibus      foedis et exemplo trahenti                      perniciem veniens in aevum, si non periret inmiserabilis captius pubes: 'Signa ego Punicis      adfixa delubris et arma       militibus sine caede' dixit                 'derepta vidi; vidi ego civium retorta tergo bracchia libero      portasque non clausas et arva       Marte coli populata nostro. Auro repensus scilicet acrior                miles redibit. Flagitio additis      damnum. Neque amissos colores       lana refert medicata fuco, nec vera virtus, cum semel excidit, curat reponi deterioribus.                     Si pugnat extricata densis       cerva plagis, erit ille fortis, qui perfidis se credidit hostibus, et Marte Poenos proteret altero,      qui lora restrictis lacertis                      sensit iners timuitque mortem. Hic, unde vitam sumeret inscius, pacem duello miscuit. O pudor!      o magna Carthago, probrosis       altior Italiae ruinis!'                 Fertur pudicae coniugis osculum parvosque natos ut capitis minor      ab se removisse et virilem       toruus humi posuisse voltum, donec labantis consilio patres                firmaret auctor nunquam alias dato      interque maerentis amicos      egregius properaret exul. Atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor pararet; non aliter tamen                     dimovit obstantis propinquos      et populum reditus morantem quam si clientum longa negotia diiudicata lite relinqueret,      tendens Venafranos in agros                     aut Lacedaemonium Tarentum.

When Jupiter has thundered We know that He is Lord; Britons and Persians conquered, Caesar shall reign adored. Did Crassus’ Roman soldiers Wed each his foreign wife, And make the foe their fathers And serve the Medes in strife, Heedless of court and custom, Sky-shields, the garb of home, Hearth-goddess everlasting, Inviolate Jove, and Rome? HE knew it was pernicious, Foresaw the precedent: To no such vile conditions Would Regulus consent. ‘Our men must die. No quarter For captives! I saw there Our eagles on strange altars, Uninjured men stripped bare, ‘Free Romans bound and pinioned, The Punic gates unbarred, Grain sprouting on the ploughland Where Rome had set her sword. ‘Weigh out your gold. More valiant Our gallants shall return! Add loss to shame! No treatment Gives wool a tint that’s gone: ‘True valour once abandoned Is lost to broken men. A doe that’s disentangled Will not give fight. Nor then ‘Will the poor gulls who yielded Fight Carthage by and by, Who let themselves be shackled, Slack-limbed, afraid to die, ‘Who desperate for safety Mixed war with peace. For shame! Great Carthage high and mighty, Rome ruined, Romans’ blame.’ They say he shunned his children, Refused his wife’s embrace; Distraught he glared, and downward He turned an outlaw’s face. The senate heard such counsel As never else was said. They hearkened; he sought exile, Torn from his friends dismayed: He knew the coming torture, And yet he thrust aside Those who delayed departure, The cousins and the crowd: As one whose task is over, A great case closed, may go At ease to green Venafrum Or Spartan Táranto.

O Venus regina Cnidi Paphique, sperne dilectam Cypron et vocantis ture te multo Glycerae decoram     transfer in aedem. Fervidus tecum puer et solutis Gratiae zonis properentque Nymphae et parum comis sine te Iuventas     Mercuriusque.

O Venus, you who reign in Paphos and in Cnidus, treat your beloved Cyprus     with disdain: here’s incense! Come, divine Queen! and indulge my Pretty: bring to her lovely shrine,     at a run, Cupid, your hotblood son, Nymphs, Graces soon undone, young friends aroused, the witty     God of Fun.

Sicelides Musae, paulo maiora canamus! non omnes arbusta iuvant humilesque myricae; si canimus silvas, silvae sint consule dignae. ultima Cumaei venit iam carminis aetas; magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo. iam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna; iam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto. tu modo nascenti puero, quo ferrea primum desinet ac toto surget gens aurea mundo, casta fave Lucina: tuus iam regnat Apollo. teque adeo decus hoc aevi, te consule, inibit, Pollio, et incipient magni procedere menses; te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri, inrita perpetua solvent formidine terras. ille deum vitam accipiet divisque videbit permixtos heroas, et ipse videbitur illis, pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem. at tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu errantes hederas passim cum baccare tellus mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho. ipsae lacte domum referent distenta capellae ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones. ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores. occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni occidet; Assyrium vulgo nascetur amomum. at simul heroum laudes et facta parentis iam legere et quae sit poteris cognoscere virtus, molli paulatim flavescet campus arista, incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva, et durae quercus sudabunt roscida mella. pauca tamen suberunt priscae vestigia fraudis, quae temptare Thetim ratibus, quae cingere muris oppida, quae iubeant telluri infindere sulcos. alter erit tum Tiphys, et altera quae vehat Argo delectos heroas; erunt etiam altera bella, atque iterum ad Troiam magnus mittetur Achilles. hinc, ubi iam firmata virum te fecerit aetas, cedet et ipse mari vector, nec nautica pinus mutabit merces: omnis feret omnia tellus. non rastros patietur humus, non vinea falcem; robustus quoque iam tauris iuga solvet arator; nec varios discet mentiri lana colores, ipse sed in pratis aries iam suave rubenti murice, iam croceo mutabit vellera luto; sponte sua sandyx pascentes vestiet agnos. 'talia saecla,' suis dixerunt, 'currite', fusis concordes stabili fatorum numine Parcae. adgredere o magnos - aderit iam tempus - honores, cara deum suboles, magnum Iovis incrementum. aspice convexo nutantem pondere mundum, terrasque tractusque maris caelumque profundum; aspice, venturo laetantur ut omnia saeclo. o mihi tam longae maneat pars ultima vitae, spiritus et quantum sat erit tua dicere facta, non me carminibus vincat nec Thracius Orpheus, nec Linus, huic mater quamvis atque huic pater adsit, Orphei Calliopea, Lino formosus Apollo. Pan etiam, Arcadia mecum si iudice certet, Pan etiam Arcadia dicat se iudice victum. incipe, parve puer, risu cognoscere matrem; matri longa decem tulerunt fastidia menses. incipe, parve puer; cui non risere parentes, nec deus hunc mensa, dea nec dignata cubili est.

The Field. Dear Sir: a somewhat larger theme. Trees and mere hedgerows don't appeal to all; Our Country Notes must grace the Capitol. The prophesied 'last age' has now begun: The mighty March of Time resumes from nil. The Virgin and the Days of Old return; A new breed comes among us from on high. Childbirth! The prehistoric Iron Age Will end, the Golden Age worldwide be born. The Sun is King; so, Sister Moon, shine on! In fact this glorious millennium Will come while Ron presides, and under him A pageant of great seasons will remove The final traces of our infamy, And free the globe from unremitting fear. The boy will live a god's life: he will see Heroes at ease with gods, and they'll see him Rule, by his father's gifts, a world at peace. For baby-toys the earth will offer him Nature's profusion, romping ivy-leaves, Acanthus, gipsy lilies, wild woodbine; Goats with their milk will freely wander home, Huge-uddered; herds won't fear great beasts of prey. His cradle will be thick with pretty flowers; Poisonous weeds and snakes will die the death And cinnamon will come up everywhere. He'll read uplifting stories, and the great Deeds of his father; learn of excellence; By then soft fields of corn will just grow gold, Red grapes will hang along neglected paths And solid oaktrees run with honeydew. Few traces will survive of such old frauds As Shipping, Agriculture and Defence; Another helmsman with a chosen crew Will man the Argo; there'll be other wars, A Churchill, an Achilles back at Troy. By his maturity, they'll quit the sea: Pilots and merchant-ships will cease to trade. All countries will produce all types of crop: Ground won't be harrowed, grapevines won't be cut. The sturdy ploughman will unyoke his bulls. Wool won't be taught untruthful colouring: The grazing ram himself will change his pelt To mauve or saffron-yellow, and the lambs, Browsing, will go spontaneously red. 'Roll on such times!' the spinning Fates decree, In concert with Eternal Destiny. Your hour has come: approach your rank and pomp, Dear child of gods, awesome nativity. See the world lurching with its high-curved load, The land, the wide sea, heaven's mighty dome: See them, ecstatic at the age to come. I hope enough of life remains for me, Breath enough to record what you will do: With luck I'll lyrically outperform Both Linus and the Thracian lutenist, Even allowing them parental help, Apollo and the Muse respectively! Yes, Pan can take me on, his Fauns shall judge: His Fauns shall judge, and Pan shall give me best. Smile then dear child, and recognise - your mum! She's had nine months of drawn-out tedium. Smile for your mother, child, and you'll deserve Feasts with the gods, a goddess for your love.