MY Martial¹ owns a garden, famed to please,

Beyond the glades² of the Hesperides;

Along Janiculum lies the chosen block

Where the cool grottos³ trench⁴ the hanging rock.

The moderate summit, something plain and bare,

Tastes overhead of a serener⁵ air;

And while the clouds besiege⁶ the vales below,

Keeps the clear heaven and doth with sunshine glow.

To the June stars that circle in the skies

The dainty roofs of that tall villa⁷ rise.

Hence do the seven imperial hills appear;

And you may view the whole of Rome from here;

Beyond, the Alban and the Tuscan hills;

And the cool groves⁸ and the cool falling rills,

Rubre Fidenae, and with virgin⁹ blood

Anointed once Perenna’s orchard¹⁰ wood.

Thence the Flaminian, the Salarian way,

Stretch far broad below the dome¹¹ of day;

And lo! the traveller toiling¹² towards his home;

And all unheard, the chariot speeds to Rome!

For here no whisper of the wheels; and tho’

The Mulvian Bridge, above the Tiber’s flow,

Hangs all in sight, and down the sacred stream

分享到：