With heapy Fires our chearful Hearth is crown’d;â
And Firs for Torches in the Woods abound:
We fear not more the Winds, and wintry Cold,
Than Streams the Banks, or Wolves the bleating Fold.[Hic focus et taedae pingues, hic plurimus ignis
semper, et adsidua postes fuligine nigri;
hic tantum Boreae curamus frigora, quantum
aut numerum lupus, aut torrentia flumina ripas.]Virgil (70-19 BC) Roman poet [b. Publius Vergilius Maro; also Vergil]
Eclogues [Eclogae, Bucolics, Pastorals], No. 7 “Meliboeus,” l. 49ff (7.49-52) [Thyrsis] (42-38 BC) [tr. Dryden (1709), l. 70ff]
(Source)
Francis Bacon refers to Virgil's use of a Latin proverb about wolves not caring about the numbers of sheep they face.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:A hearth, fat Pyne, nor ample fire we lack,
With daily smoke, our Chimney peeces black:
The cold of Boreas here we fear no more,
Than Wolves our Cattell, or fierce streams the shore.
[tr. Ogilby (1649)]Here on this hearth, with resinous billets piled,
The pine-branch blazes; and the rafters, soil'd
With constant smoke, bespeak the warmth within:
Nor more we care for winter's snow-clad scene
Than wolves respect the numbers of the fold,
Or streams their banks, in mountain-torrent rolled.
[tr. Wrangham (1830), l. 67ff]Here is a glowing hearth, and resinous torches; here is always a great fire, and lintels sooted with conitnual smoke. here we just as much regard the cold of Boreas, as either wolf does the number [of sheep], or impetuous rivers their banks.
[tr. Davidson (1854)]Warm hearth, good faggots, and great fires you'll find
In my home: black with smoke are all its planks:
We laugh, who're in it, at the chill north wind,
As wolves at troops of sheep, mad streams at banks.
[tr. Calverley (c. 1871)]Here is a glowing hearth, and oily brands of pine, here an everblazing fire, and door-posts black with never-ceasing soot; sitting here we heed the chilly blasts of Boreas just as much as the wolf heeds the number of the flock, or torrent floods the bank.
[tr. Wilkins (1873)]Great store of wood, the unctuous pine.
The smoke-stained rafter, all are mine:
I fear no more the northern cold
Than floods the reeds, or wolves the fold.
[tr. King (1882), l. 648ff]Here with fat logs heap'd up for winter store,
Plenty as heart could wish, our fagots roar:
With smoke the groins and girders always black,
And boar's chine seasoning in the chimney rack,
We care as much for the North wind or frost,
As wolves for number of the fleecy host,
Or mountain torrent for its bank, when first
O'er granite peaks a lowering cloud has burst.
[tr. Palmer (1883)]Here is a hearth, and resinous logs, here fire
unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.
Here heed we Boreas' icy breath as much
as the wolf heeds the number of the flock,
or furious rivers their restraining banks.
[tr. Greenough (1895)]Here is a glowing hearth, and resinous torches ; here is always plenty of fire, and lintels blackened with continual smoke. Here we as much regard the cold of Boreas as either the wolf does the number [of the sheep], or foaming rivers their banks.
[tr. Bryce (1897)]Here is the hearth and resinous billets; here the fire ever burns high and the doorposts are black with constant soot: here we care as much for the freezing North as the wolf for the flock's multitude, or rivers in flood for their banks.
[tr. Mackail (1899)]Here glows a ruddy hearth, with pitch pine logs
Ever alight -- and doorposts, black with smoke.
We heed no more the northern cold, than does
The wolf the flock, or flooded streams their banks.
[tr. Mackail/Cardew (1908)]My hearth is piled with faggots of pitch-pine.
Free burns my faithful fire, and every hour
My walls are black with smoke; we heed no more
The frosts of Boreas than the wild wolf fears
The gathered sheep, or swollen stream its shore.
[tr. Williams (1915)]With me you will find a hearth and pitchy brands; with me a good fire ever blazing and doorposts black with many a layer of soot. Here we care as much for the chill blasts of Boreas as the wolf for the number of sheep or rushing torrents for their banks.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1916)]Here are fires never-failing and pine-faggots good
Under soot-blackened rafter we laugh at the cold,
As high banks are laught at by rivers in flood,
Or as one wolf derideth the numberless fold.
[tr. Royds (1922)]Here is the hearth, logs rich in resin, a big fire all the time, and doorposts blackened by the constant smoke. We care as little here about the North Wind and the cold as a wolf cares for numbers, or rivers for their banks in time of spate.
[tr. Rieu (1949)]Here we have pitch-pine logs and a blazing hearth-fire
With uprights always sootily flagged: we are harassed
No more by northern blizzards than wolves are flustered
By sheep in hosts or torrents by bordering boulders.
[tr. Johnson (1960)]Oh here’s a hearth and pine logs in plenty,
doorposts black with winter-long smoke:
What are sheep-hordes to wolf, or high banks to flood-water?
what do we care for the north wind’s cold stroke?
[tr. Day Lewis (1963)]We have a hearth with a fire that's always going,
Fed with resiny pinelogs from the woods;
Doorposts black with soot; we're bothered by
The winter cold no more than wolves by sheep
Or torrents by the banks that try to hold them.
[tr. Ferry (1999)]Here is a hearth, and soaked pine torches, here a good fire
always, and door posts ever black with soot:
here we care as much for the freezing Northern gale,
as wolves for counting sheep, foaming rivers for their banks.
[tr. Kline (2001)]Here is the hearth and the well-fueled torches, here
there's always an abundant fire, and the doorposts
are black with constant soot. Here we heed the
North Wind's blasts just as much as the wolf heeds
the number or the raging rivers heed their banks.
[tr. Bestiara Latina (2006)]
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