nec requies, quin aut pomis exuberet annus aut fetu pecorum aut Cerealis mergite culmi, proventuque oneret sulcos atque horrea vincat.
No respite is there, but the season teems either with fruits, or with increase of the herds, or with the sheaves of Ceres corn, loading the furrows with its yield and bursting the barns.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json