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There are social pleasures, family affections and fellowship, sympathy and co-operation in the struggles of life. And there is love. Omne adeo genus in terris hominumque ferarumque, Et genus aequoreum, pecudes, pictaeque volucres, In furias ignemque ruunt: amor omnibus idem.
It is this philosophy, at once so magnificent and so fabulous, which Virgil so gracefully expresses in the following verses upon bees: "Esse apibus partem divinae mentis, et haustus AEtherios dixere: Deum namque ire per omnes Terrasque, tractusque maris, caelumque profundum. Hinc pecudes, armenta viros, genus omne ferarum, Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas.
When Shakespeare wishes to describe a silent night he does so with a single stroke of detail 'not a mouse stirring'! And Virgil adds touch upon touch of exquisite minutiae: Cum tacet omnis ager, pecudes, pictaeque volucres, Quaeque lacus late liquidos, quaeque aspera dumis Rura tenent, etc. Racine's way is different, but is it less masterly? Mais tout dort, et l'armée, et les vents, et Neptune.
"Jamque per emeriti surgens confima Phoebi Titanis, late mundo subvecta silenti Rorifera gelidum tenuaverat aera biga Jam pecudes volucresque tacent. jam somnus avaris Inserpit curis, pronusque per aera nutat, Grata laboratae referens oblivia vitae" Theb I 336-341.
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