A Golden Age
Bucolica, Ecl. IV. Pollio vv. 1-63
Muses of Sicily, if I rehearse
Our peasants’ pleasures, toils, in Latin verse,
I owe your idylls that my heart beats true
To the kind honest lot that once I knew;
And frames visions I have seen,
Still, in woods and pastures green.
Nature, changed, lives. Ages-leaves in a blast—