A Little Villa

Yes, that's the heritage of Gallus hoar
Thou dost on yon cisalpine hill descry;
A pine his humble house is sheltered by,
Whose lowly roof the thatch scarce covers o'er.

And yet for guest he has sufficing store:
His oven is large, his vines make glad the eye,
And in his garden lupines multiply.
'Tis little?—Gallus ne'er has longed for more.

His grove yields fagots through the winter hours,
And shade in summer under leafy bowers,
While autumn brings some passing thrush for prize.

'Tis there, contented with his narrow round,
He ends his days upon his natal ground.
Go, now thou knowest why Gallus is so wise.