A
true hexameter, with Latin verse structure replicated, cannot be
written in English, but an approximation forms the medium of
Longfellow's Evangeline, {23} one of his more popular poems. 
            
 In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
            
 Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
            
 Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
            
 Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
            
 Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
            
 Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
            
 Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
            
 West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and corn-fields.
 
        
     The difficulty, as Highet {24} pointed out, is that the style pleases no one. To English readers it sounds rather prosaic, each line unnecessarily hobbled with a final disyllable. English generally lacks spondees, and to classicists the disyllable pressed into service hardly matches what a quantitative language provides.
Something more than a
careful quietness is difficult to achieve with this form, and it seems
not to have been used to translate the Georgics.
            
Hexameters: Free Form
            
            
Here
only requirement is that the verse be a strict iambic, and that the
lines invariably consist of six feet. It is the metre I've adopted for
this translation, building on the free verse example given earlier. The
hexameter is a difficult form, however, and requires a good ear for
phrasing and wordchoice even to get the following, which has a natural
but perhaps not very pleasing rhythm (from the Aeneid, by the classics
translator of a generation back, Patric Dickinson): {25} 
            
There are others assuredly I believe,
            
 Shall work in bronze more sensitively, moulding
            
 Breathing images, or carving from the marble
            
 More lifelike features: some shall plead more eloquently,
            
 Or gauging with instruments the sky's motion
            
 Forecast the rising of the constellations:
            
 But yours, my Roman, is the gift of government,
            
 That is your bent — 
to impose upon the nations
            
 The code of peace; to be clement to the conquered,
            
 But utterly to crush the intransigent.
            
            
The
hexameter is also much less controlling than the pentameter, giving a
'quieter' line — which allows more varied phrases to be strung
together, but also needs a wide range of verse craft to give continuity
to the lines.hexameter is also much less controlling than the
pentameter, giving a 'quieter' line — which allows more varied phrases
to be strung together, but also needs a wide range of verse craft to
give continuity to the lines.
1.
A few liberties have been taken in completing lines and phrases, but
not so much that any short section, selected at random, could not be
immediately identified with the original. The translation is as line
for line as I can reasonably make it. 
            
2. Occasionally I have had to add a
word or lose one to keep within an acceptable hexameter form, but
significant departures are very few and noted in the Glossary. 
            
3. Virgil, and Latin writers of the
period generally, do not employ striking images, but stock epithets. My
policy here has been to: 
            
a. Write a fuller line than the
Latin strictly says on the rare occasions that space allows something
more worthy of the original. Some examples: 
            
 1.83: she's warmly bountiful when left asleep
            
            
 1.313: the spring come blustering in with rainy showers
            
            
 1.433 she sail the tranquil heavens with her horns undimmed
            
            
 2.313-4: then comes the useless, sour-leafed oleaster
            
            
 3.14-5: For where the broad and slowly winding Mincius
            
 meanders through its water-reeded banks
            
            
 3.144: where fields are green with moss and plumpest grass
            
            
 3.333-4: where darkness seems to congregate
            
 and give an air of holiness to shadowed depths.
            
            
 3.521-2: nor can the water coursing through the plains
            
 that falls as quick electrum over tinkling rocks.
            
            
 4.30-2: a wealth
            
 of thyme and savory that fills the air with pungent
            
 scent, and violets that drink from bubbling springs.
            
            
 4.64: the dissonance of Cybele's soft cymbals sound.
            
            
 4.63: or sound of flames when roaring through a furnace flue.
            
            
 4. 466. from daylight's first of dawning till the day retired.
            
            
b.
Respect the deeper sense of the original. In 1.450, for example, many
translators have introduced the image of dancing, which is not
appropriate to the destructive power of hail, and not one Virgil uses: 
            
Trevelyan:
            
            
such pelting multitudes of hailstones will dance ratting of the roofs.
            
            
Wilkinson:
            
            
such showers of myriad hail
            
 Will dance their pattering tap-dance on the roof.
            
            
Simple onomatopoeia seems better:
            
            
when heavy hail comes down and rattles horribly on roofs.
            
            
c.
Otherwise return the translation to a more literal rendering than those
of my predecessors, though still aiming for a pleasing integration of
sound and sense. So the opening to the famous praise of Italy: 
            
2.136-40: Trevelyan:
            
            
But neither Media's wealth of citron groves,
            
 Nor fair Ganges, nor Hermus rolling down
            
 his golden silt, may vie with Italy's glory -
            
 Not Bactria, no, not India, or all Panchaia
            
 So rich in spicy sands.
            
            
Lembke:
            
            
But not the groves of Persia, that land of fabled wealth,
            
 not the Ganges, nor that Asian river that's muddy with gold
            
 may vie with Italy's excellence, no, not the Afghan's land,
            
 not India nor the fabled place of sand with frankincense.
            
            
Here becomes:
            
            
Not Persia with its sumptuous groves and soils, nor handsome
            
 Ganges, nor the stormy Hermus with its gold
            
 can match the fame of Italy. Not even Bactria,
            
 India, nor Panchaïa with its incense sands.
            
            
4.
Informal contractions of can't, 's, etc. have been used occasionally,
which was certainly taboo a half century ago and even now is often
thought to be too colloquial for Virgil. But it's little more than the
elision of Latin, and to forbid its use is often to leave out words, as
the English hexameter is never as terse as the Latin. 
            
5. I've generally written a strict
iambic, only breaking the metre for special effects. The impetuous
chariot race that closes Book One: (1.510-12) where the extra syllables
of 'oblivious' that have to be swallowed 
echo the wild confusion of horse and rider:
            
            
 as, from the opening barrier, the chariot
            
 but races yet more reckless round the track, horses
            
 oblivious of burden, rider's tangled words or rein.
            
            
The dreadful description of Cocytes, where the patterning is more free verse:
            
            
4.477-79: -all that the black mud
            
 and loathsome reeds of Cocytes within the sluggish
            
 waters of that hated lake bind fast.
            
And the 'singing' lines that end the work (4. 565-6):
            
 So Virgil: a youth once dallying with shepherd's lays,
            
 who sang of Tityrus beneath the beech tree's shade.
            
            
Often
I've maintained the iambic across whole sections, following a feminine
line ending with an opening trochaic on the next line. Continuity is
the aim, the content being picked up by a sentence, developed naturally
and handed to the next. 
            
6. In contrast to translators from
Dryden down, I've tried to avoid poeticisms and adopt Virgil's manner,
which is to write sturdy sense and make what verse is possible by word
choice and arrangement. 
            
7. The content is sometimes carried
over two or more lines, further than Virgil does, though I have
generally tried to avoid too weak an ending for any particular line,
i.e. not with an article, or even prepositions unless in idiomatic use.
The English hexameter lacks the concluding spondee of the Latin, but,
by way of compensation, can be fashioned into organized paragraphs in
the matter expected of extended compositions. In lines 1. 63-70, for
example, where my rendering forms phrases with these numbers of feet:
5. 7. 4. 7. 6. 6. 6. 6, the lines still conclude forcefully: 
            
So where the earth is rich and heaviest | I'd have
            
 the teams of oxen ploughing from the earliest months, | |
            
 and, with the furrows heaped in lines, | then leave the force
            
 of summer sun to crumble clods to dust.|| But should
            
 the land prove unrewarding all the same, | it can
            
 be laid in shallow ridges till Arcturus rise, |
            
 for weeds will not there suffocate the smiling crops, |
            
 nor moisture here evaporate from sandy soils.||
            
            
Nonetheless,
the corresponding division by content in the Latin is quite different,
the concluding spondees pointing the lines in a way the simple English
hexameter cannot. 
            
Ergo age, terrae
            
 pingue solum | primis extemplo a mensibus anni
            
 fortes invertant tauri glaebasque iacentis |
            
 pulverulenta coquat maturis solibus aestas;||
            
 at si non fuerit tellus fecunda, | sub ipsum
            
 Arcturum tenui sat erit suspendere sulco: |
            
 illic, officiant laetis ne frugibus herbae,|
            
 hic, sterilem exiguus ne deserat humor harenam.||
            
            
8.
My aim was for an expressive and pleasing verse, but not one that
replicates the features of the Latin, which is well beyond my powers.
Where, for example, Virgil chooses his goddesses for the verbal
patterns their names make, I have only (with difficulty) been able to
retain the metre. 1.343: 
            
atque Ephyre | atque Opis | et Asia Deiopea Ephyre, |
            
 Opis, | and the | Asian | Deïo | pea,
            
            
And for the concluding lines of the Orpheus and Eurydice story (4. 523-7) I have had to employ quite different effects:
            
            
Tum quoque marmorea caput a cervice revulsum
            
 gurgite cum medio portans Oeagrius Hebrus
            
 volveret, Eurydicen vox ipsa et frigida lingua
            
 ah miseram Eurydicen! anima fugiente vocabat:
            
 Eurydicen toto referebant flumine ripae.
            
            
But even then, the head torn off from marble neck
            
 and midway floating down the Oegian Hebrus stream,
            
 the voice cried out : Eurydice, and from his ice-
            
 cold lips and fleeting breath Eurydice was heard
            
 reverberating and murmuring down the river's length.
            
            
And so on: Latin has many advantages over English verse.
Virgil's
text can be condensed, gnomic in places, and what we understand of the
Georgics as a whole determines how we translate individual lines.
Generations of scholars have studied Virgil, and those interpretations,
if coloured by the preoccupations of their times, are still relevant,
making what is needed, it seems to me, not so much a strikingly
original translation {31} {32}, but one of considered richness. The
eighteeth century rhapsodized over the beauties of Virgil's landscapes.
The nineteenth century spoke of Virgils brooding and intense pity for
human nature. The twentieth century looked more closely at its
ambiguities and relationships to other poets' work. All observations
reverberate in the text, and problems appear with the simplest lines: 
            
1.4: apibus quanta experientia parcis (literarily: with thrifty bees how much experience) has been translated as:
            
            
Trevelyan: For keeping thrifty bees what knowledge
            
            
Lembke: how much practical knowledge to keep frugal bees.
            
            
Putnam: what skill the thrifty bees possess.
            
            
I
incline to Putnam's reading, not simply for the partnership of man and
nature in the Georgics noted in the ebook Introduction, but because
thrifty otherwise makes little sense. We have to change thrifty to
something like fastidious. What trials are best to settle the
fastidious bees? Is an attractive line, but a vast expansion of what
Virgil wrote. 
            
In the same spirit I render line
1.41-2 as regret / with me the ignorance of country ways, Suggesting
that it is our ignorance of country ways after extended civil wars that
Virgil is lamenting, not rural stupidity. It is those who have left the
land, the likely readers of the Georgics, that may have lost their way.
            
Further notes can be found in the
ebook Glossary, but I have kept the annotation light, or (shades of
Nabokov) it would swell to a book in itself, quite out of keeping with
a literary translation. Also largely unnoted are the individual
departures from previous renderings, though I have greatly benefited
from reading the work, as from the academic studies listed in the
References and Resources. To them all I owe an immense debt of
gratitude.
References can now be found in a free pdf compilation of Ocaso Press's Latin pages.