quid tibi odorato referam sudantia ligno balsamaque et bacas semper frondentis acanthi? quid nemora Aethiopum molli canentia lana, velleraque ut foliis depectant tenuia Seres? aut quos Oceano propior gerit India lucos, extremi sinus orbis, ubi ara vincere summum arboris haud ullae iactu potuere sagittae? et gens illa quidem sumptis non tarda pharetris.
Why should I tell you of the balsams that drip from the fragrant wood, or of the pods of the ever blooming acanthus? Why tell of the Ethiopian groves, all white with downy wool, or how the Seres comb from leaves their fine fleeces? Or, nearer the Ocean, of the jungles which India rears, that nook at the worlds end where no arrows can surmount the air at the treetop? And yet not slow is that race in handling the quiver.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json