Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields read more

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers,
free from all anxieties of gain.
[Lat., Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
Solutus omni faenore.]

Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro read more

Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro oculum domini esse dixerunt.]

Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.

Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for read more

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for every three acres of land.

A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]

A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with read more

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and, greatly independent, scorned
All the vile stores corruption can bestow.

"Ten acres and a mule."

"Ten acres and a mule."

The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens read more

The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens agricola, quarum adspiciet baccam
ipse numquam.]

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day read more

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.