iam quae seminibus iactis se sustulit arbos, tarda venit, seris factura nepotibus umbram, pomaque degenerant sucos oblita priores et turpis avibus praedam fert uva racemos.
Again, the tree which rears itself from chance-dropped seeds rises slowly and will yield its shade to our children of later days; its fruits, too, degenerate, forgetting their olden flavour, and the vine bears sorry clusters, for the birds to pillage.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json