I thuswise fashionèd by rustic art
And from dried poplar-trunk (O traveller!) hewn,
This fieldlet, leftwards as thy glances fall,
And my lord's cottage with his pauper garth
Protect, repelling thieves' rapacious hands. 5
In spring with vari-coloured wreaths I'm crown'd,
In fervid summer with the glowing grain,
Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch,
And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold.
The dainty she-goat from my pasture bears 10
Her milk-distended udders to the town:
Out of my sheep-cotes ta'en the fatted lamb
Sends home with silver right-hand heavily charged;
And, while its mother lows, the tender calf
Before the temples of the Gods must bleed. 15
Hence of such Godhead, (traveller!) stand in awe,
Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands.
Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard;
"I'm willing, 'faith" (thou say'st) but 'faith here comes
The boor, and plucking forth with bended arm 20
Makes of this tool a club for doughty hand.
I, O traveller, shaped with rustic art from a dry poplar, guard this little
field which thou seest on the left, and the cottage and small garden of its
indigent owner, and keep off the greedy hands of the robber. In spring a
many-tinted wreath is placed upon me; in summer's heat ruddy grain; [in
autumn] a luscious grape cluster with vine-shoots, and in the bitter cold
the pale-green olive. The tender she-goat bears from my pasture to the town
milk-distended udders; the well-fattened lamb from my sheepfolds sends back
[its owner] with a heavy handful of money; and the tender calf, 'midst its
mother's lowings, sheds its blood before the temple of the Gods. Hence,
wayfarer, thou shalt be in awe of this God, and it will be profitable to
thee to keep thy hands off. For a punishment is prepared--a roughly-shaped
mentule. "Truly, I am willing," thou sayest; then, truly, behold the farmer
comes, and that same mentule plucked from my groin will become an apt
cudgel in his strong right hand.