Carrots, and leeks owing to height their name;
The poppy, cold, and noxious, too, to life;
And grateful lettuce, change from grosser food,
And heavy gourd, spreading abroad its bulk.
Yet not for him they grew-too frugal he-
For others they were rear'd. On market-days
Bundles of herbs for sale he bore to town,
Returning light of shoulder, weigh'd with coin,
But seldom bringing food purchased in town.
Red onion and th' cut portion of a leek
Repress'd his hunger; and nasturtia,
Which by their bitter taste the face distort;
And endive; and eruca, calling back
Venus, when loath and tardy to return.
Intent on this, he to his garden hies,
And, with his fingers, turning up the earth,
Takes out four stems of close-grown garlic thence,
And plucks fine slips of parsley and stiff rue.
These gather'd, he sits joyous at the fire,
And to his servant for the mortar calls.
Then of each stem its husky rind he clears,
And peals off outer skins: the refuse all
He casts upon the floor and sweeps away.
Washing the onions moist retain'd in grass,
He lays them in the hollow orb of stone,
And sprinkles next some grains of pounded salt;
Cheese season'd (well) with salt is added (too);
And over these he casts the forenamed herbs.
And while his left hand tucks his apron up;
His right strong garlic with the pestle pounds;
Allia; tum pariter mixto terit omnia suco.
It manus in gyrum; paulatim singula vires
Deperdunt proprias; color est e pluribus unus,
Nec totus viridis, quia lactea frusta repugnant,
Nec de lacte nitens, quia tot variatur ab herbis.
Sæpe viri nares acer jaculatur apertas
Spiritus, et simo damnat sua prandia vultu.
Sæpe manu summa lacrimantia lumina tergit,
Immeritoque furens dicit convicia fumo.
Procedebat opus: non jam salebrosus, ut ante,
Sed gravior lentos ibat pistillus in orbes.
Ergo Palladii guttas instillat olivi,
Exiguique super vires infundit aceti,
Atque iterum commiscet opus, mixtumque recurat.
Tum demum digitis mortaria tota duobus
Circuit, inque globum distantia contrahit unum,
Constet ut effecti species nomenque Moreti.
Eruit interea Cybale quoque sedula panem ;
Quem lotis recipit manibus, pulsoque timore
Jam famis, inque diem securus Simulus illam,
Ambit crura ocreis paribus, tectusque galero
Sub juga parentes cogit lorata juvencos,
Atque agit in segetes, et terræ condit aratrum.
Then he grinds all with moisture mix'd alike.
His hand keeps stirring round, till, by degrees,
Each losing strength, one colour all become;
Nor all is green, for milky parts oppose;
Nor milky shine, for much is tinged with herbs.
The scent his open nostrils oft disturbs ;
And with wry face he frowns upon the meal;
Oft with his hand he wipes his wat❜ry eyes,
And in his rage says many words uncouth.
The work proceeds; not jolting, as before,
But heavier moves the pestle through the lump.
Therefore he Pallas' olive-oil drops in,
And adds a very little acid's strength,
(Then) once again he mixes up the mass,
And last of all, he with two fingers makes
A circuit round (about) the mortar's edge
And in a heap collects the several parts;
Thus is the salad named Moretum form'd.
(But) meanwhile Cybale, as diligent,
Brings out the bread, which with wash'd hands he takes; And, now his fear of hunger being dispell'd,
Simulus, feeling sure as to that day,
His legs encloses in a pair of boots,
And, with a fur-cap cover'd, harnesses
Two docile bullocks 'neath the thong-bound yoke,
And drives to th' fields, and sets the plough to work.
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