The Gift of Work

In his ‘Georgics,’ the ancient Roman poem by Virgil shows that although humankind’s work can be backbreaking, it’s also a divine gift.

Virgil's "Georgics" teach us the greatness of work. Horace, Virgil and Varius at the house of Maecenas, by Charles Jalabert. Public Domain

One thing truer than human beings finding work unpleasant is that work is a great gift to us. The ancient Roman poem by Virgil, “Georgics,” wrestles with this paradox. While its first 29 lines may look like a random list of gods, goddesses, and different kinds of country matters, it’s actually a summary of three themes that the rest of the poem will meditate on: that work is a gift, that work is painful, and that this pain is somehow necessary for higher gifts.

The First Lines of ‘Georgics’

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer; What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;- Such are my themes.

O universal lights Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild, If by your bounty holpen earth once changed Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear, And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift, The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing. And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first Sprang from earth’s womb at thy great trident’s stroke, Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes, The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power, Thy native forest and Lycean lawns, Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too, Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung; And boy-discoverer of the curved plough; And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn, Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses, Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse The tender unsown increase, and from heaven Shed on man’s sowing the riches of your rain.

Work Is a Gift

The poem begins by listing basic human tasks: raising crops, tending to fruit trees and vines, raising animals, and beekeeping. While these first lines are about what humans do, they are followed by a much longer section describing what gods do—and what human beings receive. It is almost as if Virgil was rushing to this point. Since he knows that even the mention of work is often distasteful, he does so only to immediately challenge this human attitude and then propose a higher perspective.