• Vineyards and shining harvests, pastures, arbors, And all this our very utmost toil Can hardly care for, we wear down our strength Whether in oxen or in men, we dull The edges of our ploughshares, and in return Our fields turn mean and stingy, underfed, And so today the farmer shakes his head, More and more often sighing that his work, The labour of his hands, has come to naught.

    Lucretius: Vineyards and shining harvests, pastures, arbors,
 And all this our very utmost toil
 Can hardly care for, we wear down our strength
 Whether in oxen or in men, we dull
 The edges of our ploughshares, and in return
 Our fields turn mean and stingy, underfed,
 And so today the farmer shakes his head,
 More and more often sighing that his work,
 The labour of his hands, has come to naught.