Classic Poem

The fields that Julius my namesake know
For owner, though they be but few, I trow,
On the Janiculum more happy rest
Than all the fabled islands of the blest.
Their sheltered acres from the hills rise high,
Whose level summit takes the clearer sky,
And even when thick mists the valley drown
It shines with brightness that is all its own,
While in the night the farmhouse gables seem
To lift to heaven to catch the starry gleam.
On this side, you may see the Seven Hills
And mark the space that our great city fills,
The heights of Tusculum and Alba's home
And all the cool suburban haunts of Rome,
Red Roofs, and old Fidenae, and the trees
Where with a maiden's blood we Anna please.
On that, the Flaminian and Salarian way
Their noiseless stream of travellers display,
Whose distant wheels disturb not your repose,
And though near by the sacred Tiber flows
Beneath the Milvian Bridge, no bargemen's noise
Nor sailors' shout breaks in upon your joys.
Whether 'tis country or a town estate,
Its master most doth grace it, and his gate
Is ever open, generous and free;
You'ld think it might your own dominion be.
Alcinoüs was not a kinder host,
Molorchus could not readier welcome boast.
Let those who this a tiny cot suppose,
Till all Praeneste with a hundred hoes,
Give to one tenant Setia on the hill,
But let me choose my friend's few acres still.