136But neither the land of the Medes, richest in forests, nor the beautiful Ganges, nor the Hermus muddy with gold, could vie with the praises of Italy, not Bactra nor the Indians, nor all Panchaia, rich in incense-bearing sands. 140This land no bulls breathing fire from their nostrils ever ploughed for the sowing of the monstrous hydra's teeth, nor did a crop of men bristle with helmets and serried spears; 143but heavy crops and the Massic liquor of Bacchus have filled it; 144olives and fat herds possess it. 145From here the warhorse prances proudly onto the plain; 146from here, Clitumnus, your white flocks and the bull, greatest of victims, often bathed in your sacred stream, have led Roman triumphs to the temples of the gods.
149Here is unceasing spring, and summer in months not its own; twice the cattle bear young, twice the tree yields its fruit. 151But ravening tigers are absent, and the savage brood of lions, nor does aconite deceive the wretched men who gather it, nor does the scaly snake sweep its huge coils over the ground, or gather itself into a spiral with so long a train. 155Add so many outstanding cities and the labour of their works, so many towns piled up by hand on sheer rocks, and rivers gliding beneath ancient walls. 158Or should I tell of the sea that washes it above, and that which washes it below, or of such great lakes?
159You, greatest Larius, and you, Benacus, swelling with the waves and roar of the sea? Or should I tell of the harbours, and the barrier added to the Lucrine, and the sea indignant with great roarings, where the Julian water resounds far off as the sea is thrust back, and the Tyrrhenian tide is let into the straits of Avernus? 165This same land has shown streams of silver and copper ore in its veins, and has flowed abundantly with gold. 167This land has brought forth a fierce race of men, the Marsi and the Sabellian youth, the Ligurian inured to hardship, and the Volscian spearmen; she brought forth the Decii, the Marii, and the great Camilli, the Scipios hardened in war, and you, greatest Caesar, who now, already victorious on the farthest shores of Asia, ward off the unwarlike Indian from the citadels of Rome.
173Hail, great mother of crops, land of Saturn, great mother of men; 174for you I embark on themes of ancient praise and art, daring to unseal the sacred springs, and I sing the song of Ascra through the towns of Rome.