Among the woods and the shores of the streams, among the still myrtles and the springing laurels, Benacus moves his shining flood. Around the fire the lads and maid-servants sing while the country meal cooks in the swinging pot; crackling flames burn up the great oak logs; grapes hang from the ceiling, apples and chestnuts and an open-bellied pipe (passo fistula ventre). Women, men, and all the children make use of the night. Some are weary with labour; some weave soft baskets from the rushes of Amerius; and an old woman beguiles languid eyes with a foolish tale as she spins the fleece and turns the spindle with trembling hands.