Book I, Elegy 1: The Poet's Ideal (Postgate)

Let others heap up their treasure of yellow gold ; let theirs be many acres of well-tilled ground ; let them live in constant fighting and alarms with the foeman at their gates, their slumbers routed by the outburst of the signal for the fray. But let the humble fortune that is mine lead me along a quiet path of life, so my hearth but shine with an unfailing fire.

May it now be mine to live for myself, to live contented with my little, and no more be ever vowed to distant marchings ; but when the Dog-star rises, to escape its heat beneath some tree's shade with a rill of water fleeting past, nor think it shame to grasp the hoe at times or chide the laggard oxen with the goad, nor a trouble to carry homewards in my arms a ewe lamb or youngling goat forgotten by its dam and left alone.

When the time is ripe, let me plant the tender vines and the stout orchard trees with my own deft hands, a countryman indeed. Nor let Hope disappoint me, but ever vouchsafe the heaped-up corn and rich new wine to fill my vat. For I bend in worship wherever flowery garlands lie on deserted tree-stock in the fields or old stone at a crossway, and of all my fruit that the fresh season ripens I set the first before the country's guardian god. Ceres of the yellow hair, let my farm produce the spiky wreath to hang before thy temple doors. And in the fruit-laden garden be red Priapus set as watch, to scare the birds with cruel billhook.

Ye too, my Lares, who watch over an estate, now poor though thriving once, receive your gifts. Then a slam heifer was peace-offering for uncounted beeves a lamb is now the humble victim for my narrow plot of ground. A lamb shall fall for yOU, and round it the country youth shall shout : Huzza ! Send us good crops and wine I"

But ye, ye thieves and wolves, have mercy on my scanty flocks ; from great herds must ye take your spoil. Here is all I have to make the yearly expiation tor my herdsman, and to sprinkle over Pales the milk that makes her kind. Be with me, Gods : nor scorn gifts from a humble board and on clean earthenware Earthen were the drinking-cups which the ancient yokel made himself, modelling them from pliant

I ask not for the riches of my sires or the gains which garnered harvests brought to my ancestors of yore. A small field's produce is enough— enough if I may sleep upon my bed and the mattress ease my limbs as heretofore. What delight to hear the winds rage as I he and hold my love safe in my gentle clasp ; or, when the stormy South Wind sheds the chilling showers to follow the road of untroubled sleep, the ram my lullaby ! This be my lot ; let him be rightly rich who can bear the rage of the sea and the dreary rain Ah, sooner let all the gold and all the emeralds perish from the world than any maiden weep for my departings. 'Tis right for thee, Messalla, to campaign on land and sea that on thy house's front may show the spoils of foemen : I am a captive fast bound in the bonds of a lovely girl ; I sit a janitor before her stubborn doors. I care not for glory, Delia dear ; let me only be with thee, and I will pray folk call me sluggard and idler.

May I look on thee when my last hour comes ; may I hold thy hand, as I sink, in my dying clasp. Thou wilt weep for me, Delia, when I am laid on the bed that is to burn ; thou wilt give me kisses mingled with bitter tears. Thou wilt weep : thy breast is not cased in iron mail ; in thy soft heart there is no stubborn flint. From that burial none, neither youth nor maiden, will return with dry eyes home. Do thou hurt not my spirit; but spare thy loosened hair and spare thy soft cheeks, Delia.

Meantime, while Fate allows, let us be one in love. Soon will Death be here with his head cowled in dark. Soon will steal on us the inactive age, nor will it be seemly to play the lover or utter soft speeches when the head is hoar. Now let gay love be my pursuit while it is no shame to break a door down and a joy to plunge into a brawl. 'Tis here I am brave captain and private. Begone, ye trumpets and ensigns! take wounds to the men of greed, and take them wealth. I, safe on my garnered heap, will look down on hunger as I look down on wealth.