I'm re-reading Virgil's Aeneid this summer. I translated the first book a thousand years ago in my high school senior year Latin class. Now I'm reading it voluntarily. Virgil wrote this epic poem about the founding of Rome over a ten year period 29-14 BC. Came across a passage in Book One where Aeneas and his ships have been blown onto the shores of Libya. Lost and shipwrecked, they set out to investigate the land they are now in. Coming up over a ridge overlooking the now thriving city of Tyre, Aeneas describes the hustle and bustle of the Tyrians as they press on with their work,

"As hard at their tasks as bees in early summer,
that work the blooming meadows under the sun,
they escort a new brood out, young adults now,
or press the oozing honey into the combs, the nectar
brimming the bulging cells, or gather up the plunder
workers haul back in, or close ranks like an army,
driving the drones, that lazy crew, from home.
The hive seethes with life, exhaling the scent
of honey sweet with thyme."
'How lucky they are,'
Aeneas cries, gazing up at the city's heights,
'their walls are rising now!' And on he goes,"

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