namque sub Oebaliae memini me turribus arcis, qua niger umectat flaventia culta Galaesus, Corycium vidisse senem, cui pauca relicti iugera ruris erant, nec fertilis illa iuvencis nec pecori opportuna seges nec commoda Baccho: hic rarum tamen in dumis olus albaque circum lilia verbenasque premens vescumque papaver regum aequabat opes animis, seraque revertens nocte domum dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis.
For I call to mind how once under the towers of the Oebalian citadel, where dark Galaesus waters the yellowing corn, I saw an old Cilician, who occupied a few acres of unclaimed land, not rich enough for ploughing, nor fit for pasturage, nor suited to the vine. Even so, planting cabbages here and there among the brambles, and white lilies and vervain and fine-seeded poppies, in happiness he equalled the wealth of kings, and returning home late at night he used to load his table with an unbought banquet.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json