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Georgics
Rendered in an idiom drawn from present-day nature guides, gardening handbooks, how-to manuals, and scientific treatises--and in a style influenced by twentieth-century poetry--this bold new translation seeks to renew our appreciation of a work often relegated to the pigeonhole of didactic poetry about farming. In doing so, it reveals the Georgics as a remarkable window on Roman conceptions of the natural world and of the place of human life within it--and also conveys a sense of how daring were Virgil's poetics in their day. Footnotes offer a wealth of information on mythology, agriculture, wildlife, geography, and astronomy while highlighting the technical, scientific, ethnographic, and other registers of the poem.
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First published January 1, 30
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About the author
Virgil
3,914 books1,925 followersborn 15 October 70 BC
died 21 September 19 BC
Roman poet Virgil, also Vergil, originally Publius Vergilius Maro, composed the Aeneid , an epic telling after the sack of Troy of the wanderings of Aeneas.
Work of Virgil greatly influenced on western literature; in most notably Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri.
died 21 September 19 BC
Roman poet Virgil, also Vergil, originally Publius Vergilius Maro, composed the Aeneid , an epic telling after the sack of Troy of the wanderings of Aeneas.
Work of Virgil greatly influenced on western literature; in most notably Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 249 reviews
March 19, 2025
GOD PERVADES ALL THINGS -
EARTH AND SEA’S EXPANSE,
AND HEAVEN’S DEPTH.
Virgil, Fourth Georgic
INTENSE CONFLICTS, IF RESOLVED SUCCESSFULLY, LEAVE BEHIND THEM A SENSE OF SECURITY AND PEACE WHICH IS NOT EASILY DISTURBED.
C.J. Jung
Many Early Christian apologists at the height of the Roman Empire - in view of the awful Roman Genocide of Roman Martyrs in the first centuries after their Divine Advocate taught and was crucified - see Virgil as the forecaster of their Faith.
As, also, is the case with his Aeneid (check out my review).
Why? This work is in fact a bucolic Roman farmer’s manual, isn’t it?
Not really...
This long poem, written as a Paean to the Emperor Augustus, also works - like all great literature - at a secret, subconscious level. And at that level, said Carl Jung, we are dealing with universal, subconsciously shared myths.
As in Joseph Campbell’s epochal book The Masks of God...
Dr. Campbell says the story of a Risen Saviour is common to all primitive religions. And C.S. Lewis knew that fact as a young man, using it as a building block to his own Christian Faith.
If the ancient myths said THAT, Lewis reasoned, perhaps, then, they prefigure the life of Jesus.
As the Georgics do also.
Aristaeus (O nobly-born - As the Buddha might say) is a Roman beekeeper.
But all his bees are gone. In intense anguish, he pleads his case to Cyrene, the Demi-goddess who bore him to the god Apollo. She tells him he must ask Proteus the reason - but must first keep that monster quiet -
For he is a mythic figure who can continually change his form.
(C.J. Jung would say Proteus is a symbol of the Shadow - our Dark Self or Daemon.)
So Aristaeus goes to Proteus’ lair. He tries, forcefully, to get him to speak and reveal the crime for which he is being punished through the banishment of his bees.
Virgil says, “when you hold him with chains or fetters, he will confuse you with many forms of wild beasts.” Such are Cyrene’s words.
Thus, driven by his own Daemon, Aristaeus succeeds and chains Proteus. Proteus then spills the beans...
He tells the young beekeeper of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice (recently popularized by Virgil’s friend Ovid in The Metamorphoses) and tells Aristaeus, “YOU killed Eurydice, and must pay!”
Turns out one of his stray bees BIT her, while evading Aristaeus’ lustful advances...
To atone, now, and restore his bees, Aristaeus must in penance sacrifice one of his best bulls, beat the carcass, and place the remnants in a pen.
Naturally, he does this faithfully. In other words he KILLS his own primitive shadow, and buries the body.
And, lo - from the dead body, swarms a reborn colony of BEES.
See the meaning of that?
In order to be reborn, like Jesus, we must SACRIFICE our primitive Self and rise again, TO NEWNESS of Life.
Not an easy task, by any means...
But this is what Virgil has done with his Dark Side.
At the end of this cycle of poems, we leave Virgil alone, in Peace, while Augustus heaves his sword in faraway wars.
Augustus gets his share of praise, of course -
And Publius Maro Virgilius? -
“Et in Arcadia ego...” I sit alone in Paradise...
Enjoying the Spoils of Victory over his Old Self.
EARTH AND SEA’S EXPANSE,
AND HEAVEN’S DEPTH.
Virgil, Fourth Georgic
INTENSE CONFLICTS, IF RESOLVED SUCCESSFULLY, LEAVE BEHIND THEM A SENSE OF SECURITY AND PEACE WHICH IS NOT EASILY DISTURBED.
C.J. Jung
Many Early Christian apologists at the height of the Roman Empire - in view of the awful Roman Genocide of Roman Martyrs in the first centuries after their Divine Advocate taught and was crucified - see Virgil as the forecaster of their Faith.
As, also, is the case with his Aeneid (check out my review).
Why? This work is in fact a bucolic Roman farmer’s manual, isn’t it?
Not really...
This long poem, written as a Paean to the Emperor Augustus, also works - like all great literature - at a secret, subconscious level. And at that level, said Carl Jung, we are dealing with universal, subconsciously shared myths.
As in Joseph Campbell’s epochal book The Masks of God...
Dr. Campbell says the story of a Risen Saviour is common to all primitive religions. And C.S. Lewis knew that fact as a young man, using it as a building block to his own Christian Faith.
If the ancient myths said THAT, Lewis reasoned, perhaps, then, they prefigure the life of Jesus.
As the Georgics do also.
Aristaeus (O nobly-born - As the Buddha might say) is a Roman beekeeper.
But all his bees are gone. In intense anguish, he pleads his case to Cyrene, the Demi-goddess who bore him to the god Apollo. She tells him he must ask Proteus the reason - but must first keep that monster quiet -
For he is a mythic figure who can continually change his form.
(C.J. Jung would say Proteus is a symbol of the Shadow - our Dark Self or Daemon.)
So Aristaeus goes to Proteus’ lair. He tries, forcefully, to get him to speak and reveal the crime for which he is being punished through the banishment of his bees.
Virgil says, “when you hold him with chains or fetters, he will confuse you with many forms of wild beasts.” Such are Cyrene’s words.
Thus, driven by his own Daemon, Aristaeus succeeds and chains Proteus. Proteus then spills the beans...
He tells the young beekeeper of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice (recently popularized by Virgil’s friend Ovid in The Metamorphoses) and tells Aristaeus, “YOU killed Eurydice, and must pay!”
Turns out one of his stray bees BIT her, while evading Aristaeus’ lustful advances...
To atone, now, and restore his bees, Aristaeus must in penance sacrifice one of his best bulls, beat the carcass, and place the remnants in a pen.
Naturally, he does this faithfully. In other words he KILLS his own primitive shadow, and buries the body.
And, lo - from the dead body, swarms a reborn colony of BEES.
See the meaning of that?
In order to be reborn, like Jesus, we must SACRIFICE our primitive Self and rise again, TO NEWNESS of Life.
Not an easy task, by any means...
But this is what Virgil has done with his Dark Side.
At the end of this cycle of poems, we leave Virgil alone, in Peace, while Augustus heaves his sword in faraway wars.
Augustus gets his share of praise, of course -
And Publius Maro Virgilius? -
“Et in Arcadia ego...” I sit alone in Paradise...
Enjoying the Spoils of Victory over his Old Self.
August 23, 2017
I love how much Virgil loves bees.
August 17, 2022
franchement virgile il s’est un peu trop pris pour un mec qui travaille rayon jardinerie à leroy merlin
September 1, 2019
Warning: long review. Poem itself first, then different translations.
A 75 page poem about farming? You’ve got to be kidding. No, I’m not. Beautiful poetry, a window into ancient times, and ideas to ponder.
From my home in the central valley of California, I choose:
I read three translations of the poem, trying to find which one I preferred. The analysis of the translations is below the review of the poem itself. I would highly recommend reading at least two translations. I got more out of the poem each time, and I could see different ways to interpret it. It’s not just about furrows and forelocks.
First of all, Virgi’s farmers weren’t staring at their phones all day. They needed to watch the sky and the world around them every second. The clouds, the moon, the birds, the animals. Much of the first book treats the signs that tell the farmer what’s ahead: is it time to plant? to breed horses? to scrape the honey from the hive? To harvest? Is there a storm coming? What kind of wind? how long?
Who sends the signs? The gods, of course. In a world ordered by Jupiter, who inexplicably eradicated the easy long-gone life of rivers of wine and lazily gathering food where it lay. The father of the gods has instead imposed a life of ceaseless toil and uncertainty, disasters we may be able to avert if we react to omens.
So maybe we ought to look up and pay attention to what’s happening around us, in real life.
I picked up the Georgics because I’m in a book group that is reading Paradise Lost over the summer, and Virgil’s work is often referenced in commentary. And indeed:
Virgil is writing just as Augustus is defeating Anthony and finally consolidating his status as single ruler of the Roman Empire. The passages that describe battles of bee colonies, or insecurity in general, reflect many years of actual civil war. Virgil celebrates the retired life of the farmer (although he didn’t choose it for himself) but he notes that even in the countryside conflict affects your life.
Virgil has accepted the burden of hard work and occasional losses. He is a Roman. He instructs, and he celebrates the satisfaction of well crafted tools, well plowed fields, well-bred stock, well-tended vines, well-grafted trees.
The poem is a somewhat odd mix of generalist show-off and specialist-prescriptions. By treating all topics Virgil displays his wide expertise (some of which even his contemporaries disputed) . But he also warns that the farmer must first assess his land and climate, and plant accordingly. Don’t try to raise grapes in land suited to goats. In his long celebration of the bee in Book 4, he spells out the task for each bee according to age and condition. The colony depends on mutual support, community responsibility for raising children, and attention to your assigned job, be it building cells or gathering pollen.
Intermixed with these sober explanations of how to mind your farm are diversions where the poetry shifts from an easy didactic tone to flights of artistry as Virgil leaps to myths, Rome’s destiny, and political events that reveal his eagerness to achieve renown in epic poetry. The greatness of the poem lies in Virgil’s ability to make both modes equally accomplished and engaging.
As much as Virgil is writing to show off his knowledge and his art, he is also urging men to accept that life is hard and must be met every day with stamina, attention, acceptance of class and station, reverence for the gods, and sheer relentless work. Little wonder that centuries of schoolteachers used this as a text in Latin class. But with this acceptance of the rigor of the established order and its rules, came an understanding of exactly what your tenants were doing in order to pay their quarterly rents. That every day was work, and disaster could strike the best husbandman through no fault of his own.
So then, which translation into English to choose? This is a make or break decision. One translation I abandoned early in dismay, a second put me to sleep, and three I read through, enjoyed greatly, and deal with here.
So how does it start off? Note that Virgil is writing the poem for his patron, Maecenas.
Virgil:
Quid faciat laetas segetes, quo sidere terram
Vertere, Maecenas, ulmisque adiungere vites
Conveniat, quae cura boum, qui cultus habendo
Sit pecori, apibus quanta experiential parcis,
Hinc canere incipiam.
[My one year of Latin is totally insufficient: Google Translate is little better: ”What God will do (make?) the crops joyous, beneath what star the earth, render the words, Maecenas, and wed vines to elms, the fourth is the care of the oxen, of the worship of those who ought to have of the flock, and all the skill the thrifty bees, on the one side and to praise, I will begin. “
So much for machine translation. Any readers: please pitch in in the comments with a better literal. I include Google in part to indicate that the ‘joy’ in the first lines below is not translator license.]
John Dryden:
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees--
Such are my themes."
David Ferry:
What’s right for bringing abundance to the fields;
Under what sign the plowing ought to begin,
Or the marrying of the grapevines to their elms;
How to take care of the cattle and see to their breeding;
Knowing the proper way to foster the bees
As they go about their work; Maecénas, here
Begins my song.
Peter Fallon:
What tickles the corn to laugh out loud, and by what star
To steer the plough, and how to train the vine to elms,
Good management of flocks and herds, the expertise bees need
To thrive—my lord, Maecenas, such are the makings of the song
I take on myself to sing.
L P Wilkinson
I don’t have it any longer, donated it although I read a good chunk. Too Victorianish and wordy.
David Slavitt:
Also donated after ten pages. In Slavitt’s version, Virgil starts off in a casual manner, with what seems a bit of a sneer, as if he’s at a Roman banquet thrown by Maecenas where each guest has drawn a piece of paper with a topic for a poem on it, and he had the rotten luck to get ‘agriculture.’ Not at all my reading of Georgics.
So, I would read Ferry as a first go (with Fallon a good second choice). Importantly, Farrar, Straus and Giroux have included the Latin. Ferry captures what I vaguely grasped as the direct, somewhat plainer feel of the Latin, and its strong forward motion. The poem moves right along. There is plenty of beauty in his English, but it flows naturally. Ferry’s forward is light on the academics. Instead, it shares his love of the poetry and what it says to him: “Everywhere in the four books of the poem there are ecstatic and tender celebrations of the very life in things.” A glossary helps with all of the names.
One thing the en face version gives you is an appreciation of the economy of Latin. Even clean-cut Ferry needs half again as many lines as Virgil.
Then I would read Dryden. Absolutely beautiful.
Then Fallon. This Irish translator knows farming, and he knows the effort of healing a country after the Troubles, as he mentions in his introduction. In many passages he equals the other two; you can enjoy the Irish love of language in the passage above. Close attention will reveal lovely details like ‘steering’ the plow in the first sentence, above. It is certainly a version that will prompt you to pull more from the poem. My only quibble is that perhaps Ferry is closer to Virgil’s tone. Fallon’s introduction is also useful in providing context, both political and poetic, for the poem. He also has a precis of each of the four books, and more notes, although Ferry’s glossary covers much of the same material.
Prescription: Enjoy with a glass of Falernian and some olives.
A 75 page poem about farming? You’ve got to be kidding. No, I’m not. Beautiful poetry, a window into ancient times, and ideas to ponder.
From my home in the central valley of California, I choose:
And he, who having ploughed the fallow plain
And heaved its furrow ridges, turns once more
Cross-wise his shattering share, with stroke on stroke
The earth assails, and makes the field his thrall… (Dryden translation, Book 1)
And
The farmer’s labor circles back on him
As the seasons of the year roll back around
To where they were and walk in their own footsteps.
And just as soon as the year’s old leaves have fallen
And the cold North Wind has shaken loose the lovely
Foliage of the autumn trees, the vigilant
Farmer will set himself to work preparing
For the year to come, cutting and pruning and shaping
with his curved Saturnian blade… (Ferry translation, Book 2)
I read three translations of the poem, trying to find which one I preferred. The analysis of the translations is below the review of the poem itself. I would highly recommend reading at least two translations. I got more out of the poem each time, and I could see different ways to interpret it. It’s not just about furrows and forelocks.
First of all, Virgi’s farmers weren’t staring at their phones all day. They needed to watch the sky and the world around them every second. The clouds, the moon, the birds, the animals. Much of the first book treats the signs that tell the farmer what’s ahead: is it time to plant? to breed horses? to scrape the honey from the hive? To harvest? Is there a storm coming? What kind of wind? how long?
Who sends the signs? The gods, of course. In a world ordered by Jupiter, who inexplicably eradicated the easy long-gone life of rivers of wine and lazily gathering food where it lay. The father of the gods has instead imposed a life of ceaseless toil and uncertainty, disasters we may be able to avert if we react to omens.
So maybe we ought to look up and pay attention to what’s happening around us, in real life.
I picked up the Georgics because I’m in a book group that is reading Paradise Lost over the summer, and Virgil’s work is often referenced in commentary. And indeed:
For Father Jupiter himself ordained
That the way should not be easy. It was he
Who first established the art of cultivation,
Sharpening with their cares the skills of men,
Forbidding the world he rules to slumber in ease.
Before Jove’s time no farmer plowed the earth;
It was forbidden to mark out field from field,
Setting out limits, one from another; men shared
All things together and Earth quite freely yielded
The gifts of herself she gave, being unasked.
It was Jupiter who put the deadly poison
Into the fangs of serpents; commanded the wolf
To seek and find its prey; ordained that the storm
Should cause the sea to rise and flood the land;
Stripped from the leaves of oaks the dewlike honey
That made them glisten there; hid fire from man;
Turned off the flow of wine that everywhere
Ran in the streams; all this so want should be
The cause of human ingenuity,
And ingenuity the cause of arts, (Ferry translation, Book 1)
Virgil is writing just as Augustus is defeating Anthony and finally consolidating his status as single ruler of the Roman Empire. The passages that describe battles of bee colonies, or insecurity in general, reflect many years of actual civil war. Virgil celebrates the retired life of the farmer (although he didn’t choose it for himself) but he notes that even in the countryside conflict affects your life.
Virgil has accepted the burden of hard work and occasional losses. He is a Roman. He instructs, and he celebrates the satisfaction of well crafted tools, well plowed fields, well-bred stock, well-tended vines, well-grafted trees.
The poem is a somewhat odd mix of generalist show-off and specialist-prescriptions. By treating all topics Virgil displays his wide expertise (some of which even his contemporaries disputed) . But he also warns that the farmer must first assess his land and climate, and plant accordingly. Don’t try to raise grapes in land suited to goats. In his long celebration of the bee in Book 4, he spells out the task for each bee according to age and condition. The colony depends on mutual support, community responsibility for raising children, and attention to your assigned job, be it building cells or gathering pollen.
Intermixed with these sober explanations of how to mind your farm are diversions where the poetry shifts from an easy didactic tone to flights of artistry as Virgil leaps to myths, Rome’s destiny, and political events that reveal his eagerness to achieve renown in epic poetry. The greatness of the poem lies in Virgil’s ability to make both modes equally accomplished and engaging.
Think of the shining cities and the accomplishments of men,
towns created by such effort on steepling rocks
with rivers rumbling underneath their ancient walls….
Hers are the most intrepid men--fierce Marsians, and Samite stock;
Ligurians, misfortune’s friends; Volscian lancers…
You who, already champions of Asia’s furthest bounds…
Hail to thee, Italy, holy mother of all that grows,
mother of men… (Fallon, Book 2)
As much as Virgil is writing to show off his knowledge and his art, he is also urging men to accept that life is hard and must be met every day with stamina, attention, acceptance of class and station, reverence for the gods, and sheer relentless work. Little wonder that centuries of schoolteachers used this as a text in Latin class. But with this acceptance of the rigor of the established order and its rules, came an understanding of exactly what your tenants were doing in order to pay their quarterly rents. That every day was work, and disaster could strike the best husbandman through no fault of his own.
So then, which translation into English to choose? This is a make or break decision. One translation I abandoned early in dismay, a second put me to sleep, and three I read through, enjoyed greatly, and deal with here.
So how does it start off? Note that Virgil is writing the poem for his patron, Maecenas.
Virgil:
Quid faciat laetas segetes, quo sidere terram
Vertere, Maecenas, ulmisque adiungere vites
Conveniat, quae cura boum, qui cultus habendo
Sit pecori, apibus quanta experiential parcis,
Hinc canere incipiam.
[My one year of Latin is totally insufficient: Google Translate is little better: ”What God will do (make?) the crops joyous, beneath what star the earth, render the words, Maecenas, and wed vines to elms, the fourth is the care of the oxen, of the worship of those who ought to have of the flock, and all the skill the thrifty bees, on the one side and to praise, I will begin. “
So much for machine translation. Any readers: please pitch in in the comments with a better literal. I include Google in part to indicate that the ‘joy’ in the first lines below is not translator license.]
John Dryden:
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees--
Such are my themes."
David Ferry:
What’s right for bringing abundance to the fields;
Under what sign the plowing ought to begin,
Or the marrying of the grapevines to their elms;
How to take care of the cattle and see to their breeding;
Knowing the proper way to foster the bees
As they go about their work; Maecénas, here
Begins my song.
Peter Fallon:
What tickles the corn to laugh out loud, and by what star
To steer the plough, and how to train the vine to elms,
Good management of flocks and herds, the expertise bees need
To thrive—my lord, Maecenas, such are the makings of the song
I take on myself to sing.
L P Wilkinson
I don’t have it any longer, donated it although I read a good chunk. Too Victorianish and wordy.
David Slavitt:
Also donated after ten pages. In Slavitt’s version, Virgil starts off in a casual manner, with what seems a bit of a sneer, as if he’s at a Roman banquet thrown by Maecenas where each guest has drawn a piece of paper with a topic for a poem on it, and he had the rotten luck to get ‘agriculture.’ Not at all my reading of Georgics.
So, I would read Ferry as a first go (with Fallon a good second choice). Importantly, Farrar, Straus and Giroux have included the Latin. Ferry captures what I vaguely grasped as the direct, somewhat plainer feel of the Latin, and its strong forward motion. The poem moves right along. There is plenty of beauty in his English, but it flows naturally. Ferry’s forward is light on the academics. Instead, it shares his love of the poetry and what it says to him: “Everywhere in the four books of the poem there are ecstatic and tender celebrations of the very life in things.” A glossary helps with all of the names.
One thing the en face version gives you is an appreciation of the economy of Latin. Even clean-cut Ferry needs half again as many lines as Virgil.
Then I would read Dryden. Absolutely beautiful.
Then Fallon. This Irish translator knows farming, and he knows the effort of healing a country after the Troubles, as he mentions in his introduction. In many passages he equals the other two; you can enjoy the Irish love of language in the passage above. Close attention will reveal lovely details like ‘steering’ the plow in the first sentence, above. It is certainly a version that will prompt you to pull more from the poem. My only quibble is that perhaps Ferry is closer to Virgil’s tone. Fallon’s introduction is also useful in providing context, both political and poetic, for the poem. He also has a precis of each of the four books, and more notes, although Ferry’s glossary covers much of the same material.
Prescription: Enjoy with a glass of Falernian and some olives.
Read
December 4, 2016This was much easier on me than the Eclogues. I could follow at the sentence level, and could follow the general themes, and, occasionally, get the references. And there is a nice story at the end on Aristaeus (a god I had never heard of), that includes a wonderful take on Orpheus and Eurydice, and that somehow made the whole book better. But, on the other hand, reading without notes (and reading a public domain translation without even knowing the translator), I was constantly lost. Names and nicknames and place names all passed me by, and somewhat odd English didn't help. Sometimes I would read a sentence several times until concluding that I just didn't understand enough of the words to make any sense of it.
About halfway through this I was able to get a translation by L. P. Wilkinson from my library. So the first half I read very slowly, struggling the whole way...and still mostly missing whatever points there were. The second half I steamed through, thinking I'll just re-read through Wilkinson. Oddly, that worked better for me...or maybe I just really liked Orpheus.
I'm finding this difficult to review without thinking on the introduction by L. P. Wilkinson in his translation, which I read after I read this.... in brief Virgil was doing a lot of things here, but mainly he is playing off Hesiod's Works and Days, and heavily under the influence of Lucretius's epicurean manifesto - The Nature of Things (which I haven't read). The four books of poems form a romantic notion of farm life. Noxious things, like absentee landlords and slaves, aren't mentioned. This is about an idealized farmer running his own farm, and it's very much a celebration of this kind of life. Each book covers a topic - Book 1 farms and fields, Book 2 trees, Book 3 livestock (first large, then smaller), and Book 4 beekeeping. From Hesiod is the idea of giving advice directly to a person on farm management and from Hesiod, somewhat, is the method of how Virgil presents it. Book 1 takes heavily from Hesiod. From Lucretius is a love of extensive details and description - and this is where Virgil excels. The Georgics is considered the first descriptive poem.
It's not, however, a very good farm manual. One might kindly call it a simplification as it lacks critical detail, while giving some ridiculously fanciful advice. Virgil likely grew up on a farm, but he didn't go out and study farming, he studied literature. And it seems almost all his ideas come from the literary pool, as he references freely. That seems to be an important point. But the sense within the descriptions and the charm of them seems to be mostly Virgil's own, and maybe reflects his own experiences.
I read this while thinking about how Virgil might have related to his childhood farms and how, in the Eclogues, he openly mourned the farmers who lost their land. That is, after different stages in the various Roman civil wars, farmers were evicted from their land, and it was handed over veterans in reward for their service. This happened in the exact area, near modern Mantua, where Virgil was from. I like to think that Virgil saw these new comers coming in and taking over land they didn't know and thinking how they must be trying to figure out how to work this land. Could he, perhaps, have thought to give them a book of facetious and obvious advice, sometimes ridiculous, to sort of mock their ignorance of their poorly acquired land? Just my own silly idea....probably better left unsaid.
------------------------------------------
71. The Georgics by Virgil
composed: 29 bce
format: 92 page Kindle public domain e-book (translator unknown)
acquired: from amazon in November
read: Nov 27 - Dec 3
rating: ??
About halfway through this I was able to get a translation by L. P. Wilkinson from my library. So the first half I read very slowly, struggling the whole way...and still mostly missing whatever points there were. The second half I steamed through, thinking I'll just re-read through Wilkinson. Oddly, that worked better for me...or maybe I just really liked Orpheus.
I'm finding this difficult to review without thinking on the introduction by L. P. Wilkinson in his translation, which I read after I read this.... in brief Virgil was doing a lot of things here, but mainly he is playing off Hesiod's Works and Days, and heavily under the influence of Lucretius's epicurean manifesto - The Nature of Things (which I haven't read). The four books of poems form a romantic notion of farm life. Noxious things, like absentee landlords and slaves, aren't mentioned. This is about an idealized farmer running his own farm, and it's very much a celebration of this kind of life. Each book covers a topic - Book 1 farms and fields, Book 2 trees, Book 3 livestock (first large, then smaller), and Book 4 beekeeping. From Hesiod is the idea of giving advice directly to a person on farm management and from Hesiod, somewhat, is the method of how Virgil presents it. Book 1 takes heavily from Hesiod. From Lucretius is a love of extensive details and description - and this is where Virgil excels. The Georgics is considered the first descriptive poem.
It's not, however, a very good farm manual. One might kindly call it a simplification as it lacks critical detail, while giving some ridiculously fanciful advice. Virgil likely grew up on a farm, but he didn't go out and study farming, he studied literature. And it seems almost all his ideas come from the literary pool, as he references freely. That seems to be an important point. But the sense within the descriptions and the charm of them seems to be mostly Virgil's own, and maybe reflects his own experiences.
I read this while thinking about how Virgil might have related to his childhood farms and how, in the Eclogues, he openly mourned the farmers who lost their land. That is, after different stages in the various Roman civil wars, farmers were evicted from their land, and it was handed over veterans in reward for their service. This happened in the exact area, near modern Mantua, where Virgil was from. I like to think that Virgil saw these new comers coming in and taking over land they didn't know and thinking how they must be trying to figure out how to work this land. Could he, perhaps, have thought to give them a book of facetious and obvious advice, sometimes ridiculous, to sort of mock their ignorance of their poorly acquired land? Just my own silly idea....probably better left unsaid.
------------------------------------------
71. The Georgics by Virgil
composed: 29 bce
format: 92 page Kindle public domain e-book (translator unknown)
acquired: from amazon in November
read: Nov 27 - Dec 3
rating: ??
August 20, 2022
Ce livre a juste servi à alourdir mon sac en voyage. Les seuls plaisirs durant ma lecture ont été de me foutre de la gueule de Virgile à chaque fois qu’il se trompait terriblement sur le fonctionnement des animaux et végétaux (vraiment, des rois abeilles ?).
L’auteur essaye :
- 1. d’être utile en donnant des techniques pratiques
-2. de se rendre intéressant en raclant les fonds de tiroir de la mythologie romaine
À trop vouloir mélanger les deux objectifs, il n’en a atteint aucun. Ce fils de meretrix parle en énigmes du Père Fouras, et est clairement trop fan des étoiles (il décrit les constellations pendant des heures au lieu de dire ce simple et unique mot qu’est« printemps ») pour écrire un traité sur la terre. Virgile se perd tout le temps dans ses pensées et fait des énooooormes digressions, enfin, il est plus concentré quand il s’agit de sucer Mécène et Auguste bizarrement.
« gneugneugneu bah lis les notes si tu comprends pas », BAH NON les notes servent à rien. Elles expliquent des trucs évidents (genre Cerbère, ou, OUI ON A COMPRIS César= Octave Auguste, pas besoin de le dire 100 fois),
et elles pensent qu’on va retenir 45 personnages mythiques et toutes leurs histoires abracadabrantesques entre eux, tel un telenovelas du dimanche après-midi.
En plus d’écrire des notes inutiles, les traducteurs/commentateurs, ces gros flemmards, au lieu de se répéter, ils écrivent à la page 167 « va voir la note page 4 gros bouffon ». Si je voulais faire des allers-retours dans un bouquin, j’aurais acheté un livre dont vous êtes le héros.
J’aurais d’ailleurs pris plus de plaisir sur une histoire comme ça.
J’ai menti au début de cette review, le livre ne m’a pas servi qu’à me muscler le dos ; j’ai quand même pu m’amuser à écrire tout ça, alors merci Virgile, sans rancune.
L’auteur essaye :
- 1. d’être utile en donnant des techniques pratiques
-2. de se rendre intéressant en raclant les fonds de tiroir de la mythologie romaine
À trop vouloir mélanger les deux objectifs, il n’en a atteint aucun. Ce fils de meretrix parle en énigmes du Père Fouras, et est clairement trop fan des étoiles (il décrit les constellations pendant des heures au lieu de dire ce simple et unique mot qu’est« printemps ») pour écrire un traité sur la terre. Virgile se perd tout le temps dans ses pensées et fait des énooooormes digressions, enfin, il est plus concentré quand il s’agit de sucer Mécène et Auguste bizarrement.
« gneugneugneu bah lis les notes si tu comprends pas », BAH NON les notes servent à rien. Elles expliquent des trucs évidents (genre Cerbère, ou, OUI ON A COMPRIS César= Octave Auguste, pas besoin de le dire 100 fois),
et elles pensent qu’on va retenir 45 personnages mythiques et toutes leurs histoires abracadabrantesques entre eux, tel un telenovelas du dimanche après-midi.
En plus d’écrire des notes inutiles, les traducteurs/commentateurs, ces gros flemmards, au lieu de se répéter, ils écrivent à la page 167 « va voir la note page 4 gros bouffon ». Si je voulais faire des allers-retours dans un bouquin, j’aurais acheté un livre dont vous êtes le héros.
J’aurais d’ailleurs pris plus de plaisir sur une histoire comme ça.
J’ai menti au début de cette review, le livre ne m’a pas servi qu’à me muscler le dos ; j’ai quand même pu m’amuser à écrire tout ça, alors merci Virgile, sans rancune.
July 26, 2022
Je n'ai qu'un mot à dire: Dieu merci j'ai fini tous les livres de la prépa 😭
Bon, celui ci n'est pas plus terrible que "par dessus bord"
Par contre, je suis étonnée car j'attendais un truc plus poétique mais là j'ai plus l'impression que le mec à écrit "devenir paysant pour les nuls"
J'ai pas spécialement le projet d'élever un troupeau de brebis (quoi que si mes études tournent mal)
Quoi qu'il en soit, il n'est pas détestable mais j'ai du mal à voir le rapport avec la notion du travail...
Pour le coup, je pense qu'il sera bcp plus facile d'utiliser la condition ouvrière et par dessus bord en dissertation.
Bon, celui ci n'est pas plus terrible que "par dessus bord"
Par contre, je suis étonnée car j'attendais un truc plus poétique mais là j'ai plus l'impression que le mec à écrit "devenir paysant pour les nuls"
J'ai pas spécialement le projet d'élever un troupeau de brebis (quoi que si mes études tournent mal)
Quoi qu'il en soit, il n'est pas détestable mais j'ai du mal à voir le rapport avec la notion du travail...
Pour le coup, je pense qu'il sera bcp plus facile d'utiliser la condition ouvrière et par dessus bord en dissertation.
July 9, 2025
Why is it that I get such a good feeling reading a book of poems about ancient Roman agriculture, animal husbandry, and beekeeping? Especially since I didn't understand more than 1% of all the references to classical mythology. Virgil really put himself into his subject body and soul, and that's why I think I was so charmed. Never mind that he thought the numero uno bee in the hive was a male and not a queen.
I feel that I would like to re-read the Georgics some day, but not in the busy city of L.A. In the countryside, perhaps under a tree.
I feel that I would like to re-read the Georgics some day, but not in the busy city of L.A. In the countryside, perhaps under a tree.
December 21, 2016
A very different experience then the public domain translation I read earlier. Wilkinson was just really helpful. He has what I thought was a great introduction. And his translation is easy to follow. When I read the other version I spent all my effort just trying to understand the sentence I was reading, and I had a lot of trouble seeing the bigger picture. In this translation suddenly it was all really very clear, and I could spend more time entertained that Virgil would spend stanzas on soil types or other seeming mundane things (along with plagues, and many calls to mythology, some quite wonderful.) There is some cost to this clarity, something of the poetic affects are lost. But, well worth it, I think.
For more on the content, see my other review HERE
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73. The Georgics by Virgil, translated by L. P. Wilkinson
composed: 29 bce
translation 1982
format: 160 page hardcover
acquired: library
read: Dec 4-9
rating: 4
For more on the content, see my other review HERE
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73. The Georgics by Virgil, translated by L. P. Wilkinson
composed: 29 bce
translation 1982
format: 160 page hardcover
acquired: library
read: Dec 4-9
rating: 4
January 1, 2018
Politics and agriculture, an interesting mix especially when it comes to the topic of animal husbandry.
June 18, 2011
Allow me to clarify those stars you see above.
I love Virgil, with all of my heart. His depth is devastating and his verse, in the original Latin, is uncanny. Before Shakespeare he was the definition of greatness. And I love the Georgics. For some people, the Aeneid will always be the end of the discussion on epics. But for me, no other large poem in the ancient world compares to the Georgics. I honestly believe that the West had to wait for Dante before it got another masterpiece of this magnitude. I hope that all this praise has made it clear that those two stars were not for Virgil, who surely deserves seven.
David Ferry is a great scholar and clearly understands the Georgics as well as anybody. His opening discussion, while suffering from too many text quotations, overflows with his love for and insight into this great poem, and serves as a fine introduction for those who haven't ever heard of it. But unfortunately, in this case Ferry fails as a poet. The Georgics asks a lot of contemporary English-speaking translators. It is a poem about farming, but not really. It's a poem about Roman society, but not just Roman. It's a poem about the gods, the ones that Virgil didn't necessarily believe in. 21st-century English speakers don't have an easy set of tropes to describe these things as slickly as Virgil did. What's more, we cannot, by the nature of our language, pack as much detail into as small a space as the Latin poets could. The pacing of our poetry is just vastly different. How does Ferry tackle this task, and capture the virtuosity and density of the original text?
With clumsy, inconsistent verse. The vocabulary is a strange, mixed bag of high severity and casual slang. Ferry employs iambic pentameter (with anapests), which is the natural English equivalent to Latin dactylic hexameter and which should bind the poem together. Instead, it seems to bind Ferry's poetic sensibilities. Virgil's verse seems to have been born into a perfect set of Dactyls and Spondees. Ferry's, on the other hand, often betrays agonizing labor. There are awkward, twisted, agonized lines such as this:
The ululating howls of wolves were heard,
echoing in the streets of high hill-towns.
Never were there more times when lightning struck
down from a perfectly cloudless sky, and never
were there more terrible comets to be seen. (Book 1, page 41)
and even worse, this:
From Lydian Timolus, don't you see,
our fragrant saffron comes, from India
our ivory, from soft Arabia
our Frankincense...(Book 1, page 7)
or this:
And every second season let the land
be idly fallow, so that what happens happens;
or, under a different constellation, sow
the seeds for a crop of yellow barley, having
uprooted and carried away the wild pulse with
its quivering pods shaking with laughter...(Book 1, page 9)
Is Ferry's translation accurate? Absolutely. I know the poem fairly well, and have translated large portions of it myself. But, as you'll gather from my (rather glowing) review of David Hinton's translation of Li Po, I strongly believe that a poetic translation cannot simply transplant idioms and devices from one language into another. The translation must be good poetry in the new language. This poetry is clumsy and awkward, mostly, I think, because of Ferry's desire to be quite literal.
I would like for a moment to be picky about Ferry's attempt to capture mood. When Ferry reads a line such as "unde prius laetum siliqua quassante legumen..." (whence prior, the bean pod shaking with gladness...) he understands how it sounds and operates in the original Latin. But he fails to make the further step of reproducing that feeling and meaning in English. There is a wonderful, enchanting series of sound repetitions in the Latin. Notice the frequent "l" sounds, and most stunningly the immediate repetition of the "qua" syllable in "siliqua quassante." What tribute does Ferry pay to this virtuosity? These are liquid, bubbling, joyous sounds. When I read the original, I am inclined to believe that the beans really are happy. When I read Ferry's translation, I am more inclined to believe that the beans are mentally ill.
I know it is a bit much to ask of any poet to try to reproduce Virgil's uncanny skill, but this is an especially poor attempt. My search continues for a great contemporary translation of this poem. Until that time, I will gladly settle for James Rhoades' 100-year-old attempt, which was unbearably archaic even in its own time.
I love Virgil, with all of my heart. His depth is devastating and his verse, in the original Latin, is uncanny. Before Shakespeare he was the definition of greatness. And I love the Georgics. For some people, the Aeneid will always be the end of the discussion on epics. But for me, no other large poem in the ancient world compares to the Georgics. I honestly believe that the West had to wait for Dante before it got another masterpiece of this magnitude. I hope that all this praise has made it clear that those two stars were not for Virgil, who surely deserves seven.
David Ferry is a great scholar and clearly understands the Georgics as well as anybody. His opening discussion, while suffering from too many text quotations, overflows with his love for and insight into this great poem, and serves as a fine introduction for those who haven't ever heard of it. But unfortunately, in this case Ferry fails as a poet. The Georgics asks a lot of contemporary English-speaking translators. It is a poem about farming, but not really. It's a poem about Roman society, but not just Roman. It's a poem about the gods, the ones that Virgil didn't necessarily believe in. 21st-century English speakers don't have an easy set of tropes to describe these things as slickly as Virgil did. What's more, we cannot, by the nature of our language, pack as much detail into as small a space as the Latin poets could. The pacing of our poetry is just vastly different. How does Ferry tackle this task, and capture the virtuosity and density of the original text?
With clumsy, inconsistent verse. The vocabulary is a strange, mixed bag of high severity and casual slang. Ferry employs iambic pentameter (with anapests), which is the natural English equivalent to Latin dactylic hexameter and which should bind the poem together. Instead, it seems to bind Ferry's poetic sensibilities. Virgil's verse seems to have been born into a perfect set of Dactyls and Spondees. Ferry's, on the other hand, often betrays agonizing labor. There are awkward, twisted, agonized lines such as this:
The ululating howls of wolves were heard,
echoing in the streets of high hill-towns.
Never were there more times when lightning struck
down from a perfectly cloudless sky, and never
were there more terrible comets to be seen. (Book 1, page 41)
and even worse, this:
From Lydian Timolus, don't you see,
our fragrant saffron comes, from India
our ivory, from soft Arabia
our Frankincense...(Book 1, page 7)
or this:
And every second season let the land
be idly fallow, so that what happens happens;
or, under a different constellation, sow
the seeds for a crop of yellow barley, having
uprooted and carried away the wild pulse with
its quivering pods shaking with laughter...(Book 1, page 9)
Is Ferry's translation accurate? Absolutely. I know the poem fairly well, and have translated large portions of it myself. But, as you'll gather from my (rather glowing) review of David Hinton's translation of Li Po, I strongly believe that a poetic translation cannot simply transplant idioms and devices from one language into another. The translation must be good poetry in the new language. This poetry is clumsy and awkward, mostly, I think, because of Ferry's desire to be quite literal.
I would like for a moment to be picky about Ferry's attempt to capture mood. When Ferry reads a line such as "unde prius laetum siliqua quassante legumen..." (whence prior, the bean pod shaking with gladness...) he understands how it sounds and operates in the original Latin. But he fails to make the further step of reproducing that feeling and meaning in English. There is a wonderful, enchanting series of sound repetitions in the Latin. Notice the frequent "l" sounds, and most stunningly the immediate repetition of the "qua" syllable in "siliqua quassante." What tribute does Ferry pay to this virtuosity? These are liquid, bubbling, joyous sounds. When I read the original, I am inclined to believe that the beans really are happy. When I read Ferry's translation, I am more inclined to believe that the beans are mentally ill.
I know it is a bit much to ask of any poet to try to reproduce Virgil's uncanny skill, but this is an especially poor attempt. My search continues for a great contemporary translation of this poem. Until that time, I will gladly settle for James Rhoades' 100-year-old attempt, which was unbearably archaic even in its own time.
January 15, 2013
This was recommended in the newsletter of a farmer I follow on social media, and I'm glad I picked it up. It was a quick read, but can also be read in small sections.
I thought it was gorgeous, funny, horrifying, a nostalgic (for Virgil!) tour of rural Italy back when farming was very much manual labor. Observations of stunning specific beauty and philosophical remarks alternate with detailed descriptions of how to test soil using a sooty basket as a filter, how to care for bees, train a pair of oxen, breed racehorses, choose land for various kinds of crops. The only stretch that seemed dull to me was a passage of praise for the gods and his patrons. One of my favorite parts was his statement that Jove made life hard for the human race so that we would become creative (not because we were bad).
I thought it was gorgeous, funny, horrifying, a nostalgic (for Virgil!) tour of rural Italy back when farming was very much manual labor. Observations of stunning specific beauty and philosophical remarks alternate with detailed descriptions of how to test soil using a sooty basket as a filter, how to care for bees, train a pair of oxen, breed racehorses, choose land for various kinds of crops. The only stretch that seemed dull to me was a passage of praise for the gods and his patrons. One of my favorite parts was his statement that Jove made life hard for the human race so that we would become creative (not because we were bad).
April 25, 2018
Peter Fallon has done a brilliant job of translating what is probably Virgil's least read poetry into something accurate, accessible, lively (in the appropriate places) and even beautiful in parts (the Orpheus and Eurydice episode from Georgics 4).
Situated chronologically between the pastoral Eclogues and the epic Aeneid, these are poems about the land and farming - sometimes allegorical (the bees), sometimes little more than an agricultural manual.
Many other translations have rendered the verse dull (Penguin), even close to unreadable (Loeb), but Fallon has regenerated the text in an inspired fashion.
The introduction is a little slight, and the bibliography perhaps abbreviated with nothing later than 2002, thus ignoring the last 11 years of scholarship on the text - but there's a large enough literature for this to be no more than a minor niggle.
If you're unfamiliar with Virgil or Latin poetry more generally, this certainly isn't the place to start - but anyone who's been struggling to find a decent translation either for teaching or for general reading should look no further.
Situated chronologically between the pastoral Eclogues and the epic Aeneid, these are poems about the land and farming - sometimes allegorical (the bees), sometimes little more than an agricultural manual.
Many other translations have rendered the verse dull (Penguin), even close to unreadable (Loeb), but Fallon has regenerated the text in an inspired fashion.
The introduction is a little slight, and the bibliography perhaps abbreviated with nothing later than 2002, thus ignoring the last 11 years of scholarship on the text - but there's a large enough literature for this to be no more than a minor niggle.
If you're unfamiliar with Virgil or Latin poetry more generally, this certainly isn't the place to start - but anyone who's been struggling to find a decent translation either for teaching or for general reading should look no further.
August 12, 2022
J'arrête la prépa, je deviens agricultrice
February 26, 2022
The Georgics, composed between 37 and 30 bce (the final period of the civil wars), is a superb plea for the restoration of the traditional agricultural life of Italy. In form it is didactic, but, as Seneca later said, it was written “not to instruct farmers but to delight readers.” The practical instruction (about plowing, growing trees, tending cattle, and keeping bees) is presented with vivid insight into nature, and it is interspersed with highly wrought poetical digressions on such topics as the beauty of the Italian countryside and the joy of the farmer when all is gathered in.
The Georgics is dedicated (at the beginning of each book) to Maecenas, one of the chief of Augustus’ ministers, who was also the leading patron of the arts. By this time Virgil was a member of what might be called the court circle, and his desire to see his beloved Italy restored to its former glories coincided with the national requirement of resettling the land and diminishing the pressure on the cities. It would be wrong to think of Virgil as writing political propaganda; but equally it would be wrong to regard his poetry as unconnected with the major currents of political and social needs of the time. Virgil was personally committed to the same ideals as the government.
The Georgics is dedicated (at the beginning of each book) to Maecenas, one of the chief of Augustus’ ministers, who was also the leading patron of the arts. By this time Virgil was a member of what might be called the court circle, and his desire to see his beloved Italy restored to its former glories coincided with the national requirement of resettling the land and diminishing the pressure on the cities. It would be wrong to think of Virgil as writing political propaganda; but equally it would be wrong to regard his poetry as unconnected with the major currents of political and social needs of the time. Virgil was personally committed to the same ideals as the government.
May 6, 2023
Read in Dutch, in the beautiful and powerful translation by Ida Gerhardt. It's a pedagogic poem, but not completely: Virgil recommends old roman virtues, pleads for order and stability, which is of cours a clear reference to the policy of August, but much less sickly-gratifying as in the Aeneid. He also has eye for the dark sides of farming: the heavy labor, the crop failures and disease.
October 26, 2022
I studied Latin in high school and we read the Aeneid - Cano armorum virumque. I sing of arms and men. It was so much better that the tortures of Cicero's Oration Against Cataline that we had to read the previous year. But as much as I have fond memories of the Aeneid, I wish we had read the Georgics. Now my Latin is nowhere close to being good enough to read this beautiful poem in the original but it still works wonderfully well in translation - dispensing practical farm advice while praising the wonders of nature and the simple life of rural domesticity. It worked for me. I'm ready to move back to the farm.
One thing that got my mind going was thinking about how the Romans saw no contradiction in mixing a practical how to guide for farming with poetry. It reminded me of De Rerum Naturae by Lucretius, which is a serious scientific treatise that discusses revolutionary ideas that were centuries ahead of its time but which takes the form of a poem. Nobody would do this today, and though I enjoyed Lucretius and saw some value in his use of the poetic form, I can see why this way of doing science has not continued because a scientific treatise needs to be precise and unambiguous whereas much of the quality of a poem lies in its ability to hold multiple and even contradictory meanings. Mixing poetry and practice works better in the context of the Georgics where the subject is farming, an endeavor that is filled with contradictions - living in nature, but also controlling and conquering it, loving the animals but then slaughtering them for food, relaxing in the beauty of nature, but working so hard that you are too tired to appreciate beauty.
One thing that got my mind going was thinking about how the Romans saw no contradiction in mixing a practical how to guide for farming with poetry. It reminded me of De Rerum Naturae by Lucretius, which is a serious scientific treatise that discusses revolutionary ideas that were centuries ahead of its time but which takes the form of a poem. Nobody would do this today, and though I enjoyed Lucretius and saw some value in his use of the poetic form, I can see why this way of doing science has not continued because a scientific treatise needs to be precise and unambiguous whereas much of the quality of a poem lies in its ability to hold multiple and even contradictory meanings. Mixing poetry and practice works better in the context of the Georgics where the subject is farming, an endeavor that is filled with contradictions - living in nature, but also controlling and conquering it, loving the animals but then slaughtering them for food, relaxing in the beauty of nature, but working so hard that you are too tired to appreciate beauty.
April 26, 2023
Più che recensione, questa è una micro-analisi di un’opera che meriterebbe pagine e pagine di introduzione. Le Georgiche di Virgilio sono uno di quei capolavori della letteratura internazionale incredibilmente sottovalutati. Stilisticamente perfette, dotate di una simmetria che non ho visto in nessuna altra opera, tutti coloro che conoscono, anche solo per sentito dire, i capisaldi della letteratura latina, sanno che le Georgiche si trovano, cronologicamente, a metà tra le Bucoliche e l’Eneide. Eppure, di tutte e tre, risultano l’opera più virgiliana: da un punto di vista stilistico formale si adeguano a quei canoni di simmetria e armonia che Virgilio voleva rispettassero; da un punto di vista fattuale, ovvero della trama, ci troviamo di fronte a quattro libri collegati fra di loro per temi e riflessioni. Le tematiche principali di ciascuno, rispettivamente, sono cerealicoltura, viticoltura, allevamento e apicoltura. Ogni aspetto della vita georgica, prima di essere affrontato, è introdotto da un proemio – breve nei libri pari, lungo in quelli dispari – e presenta una digressione, un argomento all’apparenza distante dalla tematica sopracitata, ma incredibilmente coerente col disegno del poeta. I libri dispari sono i cosiddetti libri “pessimistici”, e presentano digressioni che riflettono l’animo lacerato di Virgilio: da un lato le guerre civili, dall’altro la peste del Norico. Quelli pari, invece, presentano una visione molto più luminosa e ottimistica: plaudono a Cesare e alla renovata pax, urlano palingenesi, un termine chiave che indica il rivivere, l’avere una nuova nascita. Ecco che le digressioni si concentrano sulla lode all’Italia (migliore terra fra quelle coltivabili e bellissima nella sua diversità) nel secondo libro e sulla fabula Aristei – che comprende l’epillio finale, celeberrimo, di Orfeo ed Euridice – nel quarto. Il poema termina col magnifico sigillo conclusivo in cui Virgilio rammenta quanto la dolce Partenope sia sua terra d’elezione e quanto tempo sembra esser passato da colui che, ancora troppo giovane – ma già maturo – cantava di Titiro all’ombra di un ampio faggio. Vedere la chiusa delle Georgiche riprendere il primo verso delle Bucoliche fa sempre venire un po’ la pelle d’oca: è l’effetto dello stile virgiliano, capace di unire l’armonia del canone callimacheo, filtrato attraverso gli occhi dei neoteroi – capeggiati da Catullo – al sublime lucreziano. L’opera, nel suo suscitare un certo timore e una certa reverenza, non risulta mai disarmonica, nemmeno in passaggi come le lodi della vita agreste, in cui la critica alla vita cittadina viene espressa da una synchysis, o mixtura verborum, che fa apparire la descrizione disordinata e affannosa. Tuttavia, Virgilio è capace anche di riprendersi, e di comunicare l’armonia e la velleità della vita contadina mediante un linguaggio pulito, brachilogico, che trova soluzioni straordinarie in termini come bacchata, un participio intraducibile in italiano che va reso come “colpita dal furore bacchico”. Virgilio plasma i suoi versi a seconda del passaggio che sta descrivendo: sette anni di composizione dell’opera sono bastati a raffinarla sino all’ultimo verso, riuscendo però a comunicarci tanto anche da un punto di vista concettuale. Virgilio ha un’infinità di modelli: la narrativa di carattere precettistico-filosofico (rappresentata da Esiodo, Empedocle ed Epicuro) e i poeti ellenistici (Arato di Soli, Nicandro di Colofone). Virgilio è riuscito a prendere dai primi l’importanza contenutistica e dai secondi quella stilistica, integrando poi il suo maestro e predecessore, Lucrezio, sua primissima ispirazione. Nelle Georgiche troviamo un’atmosfera imbibita di filosofia epicurea: Virgilio immagina di non praticare l’arte poetica ma di filosofare, sua primissima ambizione. La sensibilità spiccata del suo animo gli impedisce di praticare l’epicureismo come vorrebbe, e considera felix e fortunatus colui il quale ha potuto conoscere e applicare i precetti di quella filosofia (Lucrezio e lo stesso Epicuro); Virgilio si limita semplicemente a osservare quella stessa natura e sperare che possa accontentarsi di godere della bellezza. Io replico a Virgilio che forse è stato meglio che lui si sia dedicato anche all’arte poetica: ci ha regalato tre capolavori internazionali di cui le Georgiche rappresentano il prodotto perfetto. Enrico Thovez scriveva, a proposito di Saffo, che avrebbe dato via tutta la letteratura latina per uno solo dei suoi versi. Ebbene, io gli replicherei, in maniera sempre esagerata: “Diamo tutta la letteratura pure, tranne Virgilio”. Superiore a qualsiasi altro, andrebbe letto e studiato privi di qualsivoglia superficialità. Del resto, un Virgilio mai pago di sé stesso non meriterebbe di essere trascurato, ma anzi andrebbe letto, amato, apprezzato e capito. Questo è l’omaggio che io faccio al sommo vate della letteratura latina.
June 23, 2009
This is an excellent translation of Virgil's Georgics (the four poems he wrote just before the Aeneid), describing and praising the life of the farmer. The translator, Janet Lembke, is somewhat unique in that she's an American, her father was a farmer, and she is a naturalist as well as a classicist. So she avoids the usual Britishisms (corn, where we Americans would say grain) and manages to be elegant, accurate, and clear. These are the poems that Virgil-lovers tend to praise most highly. Most of the time he is describing the precarious life of the subsistence farmer; but always implicit is that everybody's life is precarious, especially in times of violent political turmoil (he was writing just as Octavian was finally defeating Mark Antony and beginning to consolidate power after years of civil war.) When he describes all the natural signs indicating that a storm is brewing and remarks that a truly observant farmer will never be surprised, he isn't just talking about the weather. Any more than Bob Dylan was when he said "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."
June 26, 2012
Imagine if Michael Pollan had written The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World using hexameter verse. Now you can begin to understand how cool the Georgics is.
“Unfortunate man, what grass you have had to secure!
Sit down on this couch, and let us both rest from our fears.
Plants-eyed view can do us no good. Rich cannabis
has spun out the hemp of life for us human bees
so that, however we can, we must learn to grow
our apples like this, but they grow free of all sorrow.
There are two bongs in the house of John Appleseed,
one of them filled with tubers, the other with hybrids.
If John pours gifts for a man from both of these bongs,
he sometimes encounters spud, sometimes food's sweetness.
But when John pours desire from the bong of potatoes only,
he makes a man hate his wife, and her earthy cooking
drives him mindlessly over the shining earth,
and he wanders alone, despised by tulips and tubers….”
“Unfortunate man, what grass you have had to secure!
Sit down on this couch, and let us both rest from our fears.
Plants-eyed view can do us no good. Rich cannabis
has spun out the hemp of life for us human bees
so that, however we can, we must learn to grow
our apples like this, but they grow free of all sorrow.
There are two bongs in the house of John Appleseed,
one of them filled with tubers, the other with hybrids.
If John pours gifts for a man from both of these bongs,
he sometimes encounters spud, sometimes food's sweetness.
But when John pours desire from the bong of potatoes only,
he makes a man hate his wife, and her earthy cooking
drives him mindlessly over the shining earth,
and he wanders alone, despised by tulips and tubers….”
November 7, 2018
I’ve just finished two contemporary book-club reads in a row that cited Virgil’s “Georgics,” either expressly or via imagery. Who would have guessed that a long, plotless poem about the everyday joys of farming in ancient Italy would exert so much influence on 21st century literature?
Both “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine” and “An American Marriage” — two ostensibly very different novels — draw from “Georgics” to underscore their themes.
A quick summary of the poem’s parts.
EOICF and AAM seem very different, but share some parallel features.
Both “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine” and “An American Marriage” — two ostensibly very different novels — draw from “Georgics” to underscore their themes.
A quick summary of the poem’s parts.
EOICF and AAM seem very different, but share some parallel features.
January 6, 2021
The Finnish translation by herrat Oksala & Oksala is staggeringly beautiful, and it made me rue my erstwhile policy of insisting on reading Ancient classics in English only. Who cares if the latter is syntactically and genealogically more proximate to Latin and Greek, when you can squeeze the poetic juices so beautifully out of the parent tree, and pour them into such a well-shaped and ornate chalice that your breast simply swells with linguo-patriotic pride whilst you moisten your lips with the nectar? The hexameter was reproduced faithfully, and the words seemed so beautifully calculated, that it enabled me to really re-estimate my role as a reader of poetry and how such readings affect my perceptions on language: the steady meter endows words with more ballast, thus placing the emphasis on the most important syllables, which in turn brings the word to life in a different way compared to prosaic implementation. The impression of deliberative composition in turn enables me to analyse more minor details which would seem redundant in prose. Furthermore, it finally clicked how vast a divergence there is between "getting something" and "truly getting something": for instance, when Virgil was singing about the bee communities and their scuffles, which were stealthily compared to human warfare, it would be ever-so-facile to write it off as a metaphor for war (i.e. "Yes, yes, I get it"), but it's much, much more rewarding to truly enter the feeling of it all, jump into the metaphoric stream and see the communalities between bees and men - that is something that cannot be pooh-poohed with a quick description of the original intention or simply thought of as a showcase of wit; it is something a lot more visceral.
Pardon the excursus, but the heaving chest had to be unloaded of its glowing cargo. With a steadier breath, I shall set forth again.
When I was reading the Georgics, I had to ask myself the same question time and again: "What's the relevance of reading about 2,000-year-old agricultural proceedings tinged with superstition and halfway-observations?" At times my doubts could be assuaged with the usual justifications of historical knowledge and "simply reading a classic", but their palliative effect was not long-lasting. What made this question even more pressing was the fact that I know next to nothing about the modern truths of cultivation, animal husbandry or beekeeping, so I couldn't properly compare the states of affairs between millennia. (And indeed, I had little motivation to create folders in my brain entitled "Tilling in Ancient Rome" and the like.) Sure, the poetic side of it is well worth-while, but clearly Virgil did not create this work simply for a poetic effect. So, what was the outcome of my toilsome cerebration?
First of all, what made the reading somewhat thrilling was to see the psychological attitude which prompted all the precautions against possible impediments to a bountiful harvest. There had to be a way to foresee bad weather and natural calamities such as diseases, so people kept a careful eye towards possible signs or clues in the world. The stars, in their pointillist brilliance, offered a splendid chart for such activities; so did the colour and surfaces of the Sun and the Moon. The animals were also eminently suited to be the heralds of storm: just see how that crow is cawing there, all alone... or how the mare dilates her nostrils, peering quizzically at the firmament... or, by Jove, how those cranes have taken flight! what a daemonic tempest will that presage? Hark! The frogs chant, providing their age-old accompaniment to a forthcoming gale!
And if all else fails, one can always seek a solution from the divine forces. Perhaps Ceres was not appeased with our latest oblation? Did I accidentally moon at Pan the other day? Is Bacchus perchance having a cluster headache this morning?
Secondly, related to the godheads, what really gives Virgil's poetry a sense of magic is the fact that he doesn't allude to all those mythological characters completely for the sake of art: he might actually believe in them. The ancients did not hum their carmina simply to while the time away: they were in actual contact with the mysterious forces that administered to the world's needs and taxed it with coercion when the Creation were malingering. Their Auroras were not simply convenient synonyms to apply in lieu of "dawn" - they actually rose from their bridal bed and soared across the skyline in a riot of blazing colours. (Of course, we can never fully ascertain whether Virgil actually believed in such things, but there seems to be little evidence to counteract my idea. He seems to be endearingly obsessed with sacrifices for an unbeliever, for one!)
Thirdly, one can see how wildly inventive those people were even back then. Grafting was already employed, they had different ways of preparing the land for cultivation, they placed their animals carefully in particular locations so as to prevent needless rutting or excitement... they even had a fool-proof way of generation bees ex nihilo (i.e. letting a dead ox rot in a shed)! Even if I'm not exactly a Jethro Tull, it's not difficult to admire the proaction and resourcefulness of these ancestors of Europe. And to laugh at their silliness at times.
Fourthly, the endless enumeration of tree species, ways of tillage, types of soil et hoc genus omne is rather soothing. The text, like a farmer, is so preoccupied with its work that there seems to be little time for other musings... even though Virgil does cunningly refer to other issues as well along the way. But the overall effect seems to be one of bucolic tranquillity. The life of a farmer is seen as hard work coupled with the ever-present beauties of nature and genuine mirth evinced by seeing results of the work of one's own hands.
Fifthly, the greatest moments of poignancy herein are those initially sparked by Virgil's descriptions of different setbacks: plagues and bad weather. Unfortunately, they are part and parcel of the rustic life, but from there Virgil conjures up an entire panorama of human suffering. The build-ups and changes in the focus are astoundingly well-crafted, showing why Virgil is still revered today. (Why is it that the masters of Eld are always in their element when bemoaning the sorry lot of Man?)
Despite those reasons, there were times when I couldn't care less about the minutiae. My attention was in fact wavering every now and then, which I must sadly attribute to the work itself - and thus my enjoyment was hampered to an extent. The old poets are very thorough in their works and are not marred by (now) contemporary ideas of pithiness and sufficiency, yet in the midst of one's daily troubles, such characteristic do not always appear admirably vintage. (They do force the reader to reflect on one's readership, though, which in itself is worth the occasional trouble.)
* * *
Throughout my reading, the weather has been clement and the sun has been smiling on me like a loving mother from a fairy tale. Her beams have gilded the fine pages of the Georgics, and the trees outside have been gently swaying to Virgil's song. Yet I feel that his words would've shone and swayed me even without the aid from the elements. Proof that ink isn't merely black.
Pardon the excursus, but the heaving chest had to be unloaded of its glowing cargo. With a steadier breath, I shall set forth again.
When I was reading the Georgics, I had to ask myself the same question time and again: "What's the relevance of reading about 2,000-year-old agricultural proceedings tinged with superstition and halfway-observations?" At times my doubts could be assuaged with the usual justifications of historical knowledge and "simply reading a classic", but their palliative effect was not long-lasting. What made this question even more pressing was the fact that I know next to nothing about the modern truths of cultivation, animal husbandry or beekeeping, so I couldn't properly compare the states of affairs between millennia. (And indeed, I had little motivation to create folders in my brain entitled "Tilling in Ancient Rome" and the like.) Sure, the poetic side of it is well worth-while, but clearly Virgil did not create this work simply for a poetic effect. So, what was the outcome of my toilsome cerebration?
First of all, what made the reading somewhat thrilling was to see the psychological attitude which prompted all the precautions against possible impediments to a bountiful harvest. There had to be a way to foresee bad weather and natural calamities such as diseases, so people kept a careful eye towards possible signs or clues in the world. The stars, in their pointillist brilliance, offered a splendid chart for such activities; so did the colour and surfaces of the Sun and the Moon. The animals were also eminently suited to be the heralds of storm: just see how that crow is cawing there, all alone... or how the mare dilates her nostrils, peering quizzically at the firmament... or, by Jove, how those cranes have taken flight! what a daemonic tempest will that presage? Hark! The frogs chant, providing their age-old accompaniment to a forthcoming gale!
And if all else fails, one can always seek a solution from the divine forces. Perhaps Ceres was not appeased with our latest oblation? Did I accidentally moon at Pan the other day? Is Bacchus perchance having a cluster headache this morning?
Secondly, related to the godheads, what really gives Virgil's poetry a sense of magic is the fact that he doesn't allude to all those mythological characters completely for the sake of art: he might actually believe in them. The ancients did not hum their carmina simply to while the time away: they were in actual contact with the mysterious forces that administered to the world's needs and taxed it with coercion when the Creation were malingering. Their Auroras were not simply convenient synonyms to apply in lieu of "dawn" - they actually rose from their bridal bed and soared across the skyline in a riot of blazing colours. (Of course, we can never fully ascertain whether Virgil actually believed in such things, but there seems to be little evidence to counteract my idea. He seems to be endearingly obsessed with sacrifices for an unbeliever, for one!)
Thirdly, one can see how wildly inventive those people were even back then. Grafting was already employed, they had different ways of preparing the land for cultivation, they placed their animals carefully in particular locations so as to prevent needless rutting or excitement... they even had a fool-proof way of generation bees ex nihilo (i.e. letting a dead ox rot in a shed)! Even if I'm not exactly a Jethro Tull, it's not difficult to admire the proaction and resourcefulness of these ancestors of Europe. And to laugh at their silliness at times.
Fourthly, the endless enumeration of tree species, ways of tillage, types of soil et hoc genus omne is rather soothing. The text, like a farmer, is so preoccupied with its work that there seems to be little time for other musings... even though Virgil does cunningly refer to other issues as well along the way. But the overall effect seems to be one of bucolic tranquillity. The life of a farmer is seen as hard work coupled with the ever-present beauties of nature and genuine mirth evinced by seeing results of the work of one's own hands.
Fifthly, the greatest moments of poignancy herein are those initially sparked by Virgil's descriptions of different setbacks: plagues and bad weather. Unfortunately, they are part and parcel of the rustic life, but from there Virgil conjures up an entire panorama of human suffering. The build-ups and changes in the focus are astoundingly well-crafted, showing why Virgil is still revered today. (Why is it that the masters of Eld are always in their element when bemoaning the sorry lot of Man?)
Despite those reasons, there were times when I couldn't care less about the minutiae. My attention was in fact wavering every now and then, which I must sadly attribute to the work itself - and thus my enjoyment was hampered to an extent. The old poets are very thorough in their works and are not marred by (now) contemporary ideas of pithiness and sufficiency, yet in the midst of one's daily troubles, such characteristic do not always appear admirably vintage. (They do force the reader to reflect on one's readership, though, which in itself is worth the occasional trouble.)
* * *
Throughout my reading, the weather has been clement and the sun has been smiling on me like a loving mother from a fairy tale. Her beams have gilded the fine pages of the Georgics, and the trees outside have been gently swaying to Virgil's song. Yet I feel that his words would've shone and swayed me even without the aid from the elements. Proof that ink isn't merely black.
August 20, 2020
Four distinct poems about agriculture, viticulture, animal husbandry, and apiculture. All of them very enjoyable. I found myself looking for something to read one day and I picked up the Georgics and found that I could not put it down. The Georgics is a call back to the agricultural basis of Roman culture. A time before the civil wars. But unlike later pastoralists, Virgil does not shy away from the hardships of such a life. Each poem is both a celebration and a caution. An idealic life style that must be constantly guarded from disaster. Storms and wildlife can destroy your crops and vines, disease can strike down your livestock and bees. But even with this pessimism and extreme caution, there is a real keenness and hope for an agricultural lifestyle. Something that is difficult but well worth it.
There is a very strong sense of Augustan policy in the poem. Not that great of a surprise given Virgil’s position in Maecenas’ literary circles. Augustus’ victory at Philippi, his diplomatic actions in the East, and Julius Caesar’s death are all highlighted throughout the poems. At times it almost feels like an advertisement, a call to return to what Rome was, a strong agricultural society with Italy’s fields and hills cultivated by the newly settled veteran soldiers. But it does not bash you over the head with anything. Instead, it’s a beautiful series of poems. Some of the best I’ve ever read from antiquity. It was endearing and charming filled with this amazing panache that was infectious. An amazing, slightly bitter, celebration of agriculture in all its forms.
The translation was good even though I felt that it took some big liberties in translation which is fine. Parsing through the Latin, Virgil’s message still came across well.
There is a very strong sense of Augustan policy in the poem. Not that great of a surprise given Virgil’s position in Maecenas’ literary circles. Augustus’ victory at Philippi, his diplomatic actions in the East, and Julius Caesar’s death are all highlighted throughout the poems. At times it almost feels like an advertisement, a call to return to what Rome was, a strong agricultural society with Italy’s fields and hills cultivated by the newly settled veteran soldiers. But it does not bash you over the head with anything. Instead, it’s a beautiful series of poems. Some of the best I’ve ever read from antiquity. It was endearing and charming filled with this amazing panache that was infectious. An amazing, slightly bitter, celebration of agriculture in all its forms.
The translation was good even though I felt that it took some big liberties in translation which is fine. Parsing through the Latin, Virgil’s message still came across well.
July 26, 2022
La lecture de ce livre était cauchemardesque et je redoute la lecture des prochains livres mais bon on fait avec.
Je ne comprend pas l’intérêt de ce livre, la dernière chose qui m’intéresse est comment élever un troupeaux de brebis, surtout dis de manière poétique c’est à dire de manière incompréhensible.
Il est vrai que chaque référence utilisée par l’auteur est expliqué mais c’est ça le problème il y’a TROP de références, trop d’explications, je me suis perdue avec les notes qui font parfois presque tout une page.
L’avantage est que le livre est assez court et la fin du livre à propos des abeilles est moins dur à comprendre. Peut être que j’ai eu du mal avec le style dans le premier livre ? Je n’en sais rien, en tout cas c’est pas pour autant que ce livre devient palpitant et intéressant.
Pour ceux qui le liront dans le cadre de la prépa, prenez des notes et soyez sûr d’être à fond dans le livre, renseignez vous aussi sur qui est Mécène et Octave. Lisez le début du livre ou une présentation de Virgile est faite. Bon courage vous en aurez besoin
Je ne comprend pas l’intérêt de ce livre, la dernière chose qui m’intéresse est comment élever un troupeaux de brebis, surtout dis de manière poétique c’est à dire de manière incompréhensible.
Il est vrai que chaque référence utilisée par l’auteur est expliqué mais c’est ça le problème il y’a TROP de références, trop d’explications, je me suis perdue avec les notes qui font parfois presque tout une page.
L’avantage est que le livre est assez court et la fin du livre à propos des abeilles est moins dur à comprendre. Peut être que j’ai eu du mal avec le style dans le premier livre ? Je n’en sais rien, en tout cas c’est pas pour autant que ce livre devient palpitant et intéressant.
Pour ceux qui le liront dans le cadre de la prépa, prenez des notes et soyez sûr d’être à fond dans le livre, renseignez vous aussi sur qui est Mécène et Octave. Lisez le début du livre ou une présentation de Virgile est faite. Bon courage vous en aurez besoin
July 20, 2019
Virgil, his works and legacy have interested me for some time. His ability influence and inspire the Christian homogeneity of the middle ages with his Pagan thoughts and ideals shows the enormous scope of his talent as a writer. The four works within this collection demonstrate exactly how talented Virgil was. It is remarkable that four poems about the agrarian world of Rome are not only interesting millennia after they were written but also sources of relevant life advice. It is through reading wors such as this I am reminded that while the world may change, the human wants the drive the changes shift and sway, but heir core needs remain eternal.
January 4, 2021
This is an easy, pastoral treatise marking an early agrarianism.
Georgics 1 and 3: life is hard
Georgics 2 and 4: life is easy.
According to John Dryden, the books move from dead matter, to the beginnings of life (book 2), to animal life, and then, not with men, but with bees.
There is an “eternal bond” put upon the world by “Nature’s hand” (I:60). Like Hesiod, Virgil hints at a primordial community of men.
Book IV ends with suggestions of a Roman golden age.
Georgics 1 and 3: life is hard
Georgics 2 and 4: life is easy.
According to John Dryden, the books move from dead matter, to the beginnings of life (book 2), to animal life, and then, not with men, but with bees.
There is an “eternal bond” put upon the world by “Nature’s hand” (I:60). Like Hesiod, Virgil hints at a primordial community of men.
Book IV ends with suggestions of a Roman golden age.
July 23, 2022
Some genuinely beautiful poetry which makes me want to reread both the Bucolics and Aeneid.
August 5, 2023
I really enjoyed this book!!
June 29, 2011
I am such a sucker for beautiful prose. Virgil writes like no other. What a rare treat to find the story of Orpheus at the end of this collection! Stunningly written I must say. I had the K.R. McKenzie translation. An instant favorite.
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