Atque equidem, extremo ni iam sub fine laborum vela traham et terris festinem advertere proram, forsitan et, pinguis hortos quae cura colendi ornaret, canerem, biferique rosaria Paesti, quoque modo potis gauderent intiba rivis et virides apio ripae, tortusque per herbam cresceret in ventrem cucumis; nec sera comantem narcissum aut flexi tacuissem vimen acanthi pallentisque hederas et amantis litora myrtos.
In fact, were I not, with my task well-nigh done, about to furl my sails and making haste to turn my prow to land, perchance I might sing what careful tendance clothes rich gardens in flower, and might sing of Paestum whose rose beds bloom twice yearly, how the endive rejoices in drinking streams, the verdant banks in celery; how the cucumber, coiling through the grass, swells into a paunch. Nor should I have passed in silence the late-flowering narcissus, the twining tendril of the acanthus, pale ivy sprays, or the shore-loving myrtle.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json