“A vineyard in gold he next created, with vines hung heavy with grapes;
Yet the hanging clusters appeared deep purple and draped on silver supports.
The encircling channel appeared clear blue, and the fence around this was tin;
And there was only one way out for the vintagers with their harvest.
Here were children with well-woven baskets loaded with honey-sweet fruit;
On a rustic lyre a youth sang sweetly a delicate song of Linos,
While others sang out in unrestrained joy, keeping time as they skipped together.”
[Homer’s Iliad, Book 18, Lines 561-572, Vail’s translation]