tum victus abiere feri, tum consita pomus, tum bibit inriguas fertilis hortus aquas, aurea tum pressos pedibus dedit uva liquores mixtaque securo est sobria lympha mero.
Then savage habits passed away; then was the fruit-tree planted, and the thriving garden drank the water from the rills. Then the golden grapes gave up their juices to the trampling feet, and sober water was mixed with cheering wine
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json