magis relictis, non, ut adsit, auxili latura plus praesentibus. libenter hoc et omne militabitur bellum in tuae spem gratiae, 25non ut iuvencis illigata pluribus aratra nitantur mea, pecusve Calabris ante sidus fervidum Lucana mutet pascuis, neque ut superni villa candens Tusculi 30Circaea tangat moenia. satis superque me benignitas tua ditavit: haud paravero, quod aut avarus ut Chremes terra premam, discinctus aut perdam nepos.
Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis, ut prisca gens mortalium, paterna rura bobus exercet suis, solutus omni faenore, 5neque excitatur classico miles truci, neque horret iratum mare, forumque vitat et superba civium potentiorum limina. ergo aut adulta vitium propagine 10altas maritat populos, aut in reducta valle mugientium prospectat errantis greges,
she has left them unguarded—not that she could protect them any better if she were present in their nest. I shall gladly serve in this or any other war in the hope of pleasing you, not with the intention that more bullocks may be yoked to my hard-working ploughs, or that my flocks may move from Calabrian to Lucanian pastures before the coming of the blazing star,1 or that I may have a shining villa close to the Circaean walls of lofty Tusculum.2 Your kindness has given me enough and more than enough in the way of riches. I do not mean to amass something simply to bury it in the ground like that miser Chremes, or to squander it like a slovenly wastrel.
Happy the man who, far from business concerns, works his ancestral acres with his oxen like the men of old, free from every kind of debt; he is not wakened, like a soldier, by the harsh bray of the bugle, and has no fear of the angry sea; he avoids both the city centre and the lofty doorways of powerful citizens. And so he marries the fully grown layers of the vine to tall poplars, or in a secluded valley he watches his lowing herd as they wander about; he prunes