"Cease from grinding, ye women who toil at the mill; sleep late, even if the crowing cocks announce the dawn. For has ordered the s to perform the work of your hands, and they, leaping down on top of the wheel, turn its axle which, with its revolving spokes, turns the heavy concave Nisyrian mill-stones. We taste again the joys of the primitive life, learning to feast on the products of Demeter without labour."