The Four Ages

The golden age was first, which — with no compeller — of its own will, without a law, kept faith and did the right. Punishment and fear were absent, and no threatening words were read on plates of bronze, nor did a suppliant crowd dread the face of its own judge: they were safe without a guardian. Not yet had the pine, cut from her mountains, come down into the liquid waves to visit a foreign world; mortals knew no shores but their own shores. Not yet did deep ditches ring the steep towns; no straight trumpet, no horns of bent brass, no helmets, no swords were: without a soldier's use the soft nations passed their secure repose. Earth herself, unburdened, untouched by harrow, wounded by no ploughshares, gave all things of herself, and, content with foods created under no constraint, they gathered arbutus berries, and mountain strawberries, cornel cherries, and blackberries clinging to the tough brambles, and acorns fallen from the broad tree of Jove.

Spring was everlasting, and the gentle zephyrs, with their warm breath, caressed the flowers born of no seed; soon, too, the untilled earth bore her grain, and the field, unturned, grew white with heavy ears. Rivers of milk, then rivers of nectar flowed, and golden honey dripped from the green ilex. After Saturn had been sent down to dark Tartarus, the world was under Jove: the silver race arose, worse than gold, more precious than tawny bronze. Jupiter shortened the length of the ancient spring, and through winters, and heats, and unequal autumns, and brief spring, drew out the year in four spaces. Then first the air, scorched by parching heats, glowed white, and ice hung frozen by the winds; then first men entered houses: houses were caves, and thick-set thickets, and twigs bound with bark. Then first the seeds of Ceres were buried in long furrows, and the young oxen groaned beneath the yoke.

Third came after those the race of bronze, crueler in temper, readier for savage arms, yet not wicked: the last was of hard iron. At once there burst into the age of a worse vein every evil: shame fled, and truth, and faith; in their place came cheats and wiles, treacheries, and force, and the wicked love of having. Sails were given to the winds, which the sailor did not yet know well; and keels that once had stood upon the high mountains danced on unknown waves; and the ground, which before had been common like the sunlight and the breezes, the careful surveyor marked out with a long-drawn line. Nor was the rich earth asked only for crops and the food she owed: men went into her bowels, and the riches she had hidden, and had drawn near the shades of Stygia, were dug out — provocations to evil.

Now iron came, and gold more deadly than iron; war was born, which fights with both, and shook its clashing arms in a blood-stained hand. Men live by plunder: guest has no trust from host, father-in-law none from son-in-law; rare is the grace between brothers; the husband hangs over his wife's death, she over his; terrible stepmothers mix their ghastly aconites; the son asks, before his day, his father's years: goodness lies vanquished, and virgin Astraea, last of the immortals, left the blood-soaked earth.

The golden age came first, the age that — with no one to compel it — kept the faith and did what was right of its own free will. There was no punishment to fear, no laws engraved on bronze plates, no crowd of suppliants frightened by the face of a judge: they lived safe, without any guard. The tall pine tree had not yet been felled on her mountains and sent down to visit the waves of a foreign world, and mortals knew no shores except their own. The steep towns were not yet ringed by deep moats. There were no straight trumpets, no horns of bent brass, no helmets, no swords. Without soldiers, the gentle nations lived in ease, and the earth herself, untouched, unwounded by any plough or harrow, gave everything freely. Content with food that came without asking, people gathered arbutus berries, wild strawberries, cornel cherries, blackberries hanging on the prickly bushes, and acorns fallen from the wide-spreading tree of Jove. It was spring forever; the soft west wind breathed on flowers that needed no planting, and the unploughed earth brought forth her grain, and the untilled field grew white with heavy ears. Rivers of milk and rivers of nectar flowed, and golden honey dripped from the green holm oak.

After Saturn had been banished to the dark underworld, the world came under Jove, and the silver race arose — worse than gold, dearer than yellow bronze. Jupiter shortened the length of the old springtime, and divided the year into four seasons: winter, summer, a changeable autumn, and a brief spring. Then for the first time the air burned with parching heat, and ice hung frozen in the biting winds. Then people first built houses: before that, caves were their homes, and thick thickets, and huts woven from bark. Then for the first time the seeds of Ceres were buried in long furrows, and the young oxen groaned under the yoke.

Third came the race of bronze, crueler in spirit, readier for savage war — but not yet wicked. Last of all came the hard age of iron. At once every kind of evil burst out into this age of baser metal: modesty, truth, and faith fled the earth, and in their place came trickery and fraud and violence and the wicked love of possessions. Men gave sails to winds they did not yet understand well, and keels that had once stood high on the mountaintops now danced over strange waves. The ground, which had been common to all like the sunlight and the air, was measured out and marked with long boundary lines by careful surveyors. People were not content to ask the rich earth only for crops and the food she owed them: they dug into her very body, and the riches she had hidden away, buried close beside the shades below, were dug out — and became temptations to evil. Iron came — and gold, deadlier than iron — and war was born, which fights with both, shaking its clashing arms in a bloodstained hand. People lived by plunder. A guest was not safe from his host, a father-in-law not safe from his son-in-law; kindness between brothers was rare. Husbands longed for their wives' deaths, wives for their husbands'. Terrible stepmothers mixed deadly poisons; sons asked about their fathers' years before their time. Piety lay vanquished, and virgin Astraea, last of the immortals, abandoned the blood-soaked earth.