Odes 2.15 (Martin): Jam Pauca Aratro

Soon regal piles each rood of land,
Will from the farmer's ploughshare take,
Soon ponds be seen on every hand
More spacious than the Lucrine lake.

Soon the unwedded plane displace
The vine-wreathed elm; and violet bed
And myrtle bush, and all the race
Of scented shrubs their fragrance shed,

Where fertile olive thickets made
Their owner rich in days of old;
And laurels with thick-woven shade
At bay the scorching sunbeams hold.

It was not so when Romulus
Our greatness fostered in its prime,
Nor did our great forefathers thus.
In unshorn Cato's simple time.

Man's private fortunes then were low.
The public income great; in these
Good times no long drawn portico
Caught for its lord the northern breeze.

Nor did the laws our sires permit
Sods dug at random to despise
As for their daily homes unfit;
And yet they bade our cities rise

More stately at the public charge,
And did, to their religion true,
The temples of the gods enlarge,
And with fair-sculptured stone renew.