Maxioms by Virgil Or Vergil (publius Virgilius Maro Vergil)
E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have read more
E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,
And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend,
Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,
The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne,
As light straw and rapid stubble fly
In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
Accursed thirst for gold! what dost thou not compel mortals to
do?
[Lat., Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
read more
Accursed thirst for gold! what dost thou not compel mortals to
do?
[Lat., Quid non mortalia pectora cogis,
Auri sacra fames?]
