Cui tantum in vita restet transire malorum.[544]
With what truth and naiveté is the complaint of the husbandman over his ineffectual labour and scanty returns echoed!—
Iamque caput quassans grandis suspirat arator
Crebrius incassum manuum cecidisse labores,
Et cum tempora temporibus praesentia confert
Praeteritis, laudat fortunas saepe parentis
Et crepat, anticum genus ut pietate repletum
Perfacile angustis tolerarit finibus aevom,
Cum minor esset agri multo modus ante viritim.[545]
His feeling is profoundly solemn, as well as infinitely tender. Above all the tumult of life, he hears incessantly the funeral dirge over some one departed, and the infant wail of a new-comer into the troubles of the world,