O mortals, from your fellows' blood abstain, Nor taint your bodies with a food profane: While corn, and pulse… — Ovid

O mortals, from your fellows' blood abstain,

Nor taint your bodies with a food profane:

While corn, and pulse by Nature are bestow'd,

And planted orchards bend their willing load;

While labour'd gardens wholesom herbs produce,

And teeming vines afford their gen'rous juice;

Nor tardier fruits of cruder kind are lost,

But tam'd with fire, or mellow'd by the frost;

While kine to pails distended udders bring,

And bees their hony redolent of Spring;

While Earth not only can your needs supply,

But, lavish of her store, provides for luxury;

A guiltless feast administers with ease,

And without blood is prodigal to please.

Parcite, mortales, dapibus temerare nefandis

corpora! sunt fruges, sunt deducentia ramos

pondere poma suo tumidaeque in vitibus uvae,

sunt herbae dulces, sunt quae mitescere flamma

mollirique queant; nec vobis lacteus umor

eripitur, nec mella thymi redolentia florem:

prodiga divitias alimentaque mitia tellus

suggerit atque epulas sine caede et sanguine praebet.

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