Canusium

quattuor hinc rapimur viginti et milia redis, mansuri oppidulo, quod versu dicere non est, signis perfacile est: venit vilissima rerum hic aqua; sed panis longe pulcherrimus, ultra callidus ut soleat umeris portare viator; nam Canusi lapidosus, aquae non ditior urna qui locus a forti Diomede est conditus olim.

From there we were whirled twenty-four miles in carriages, to stay the night in a little town whose name won’t fit into verse. But it is easy to describe. Here they sell water, the cheapest thing in the world. But the bread is far the best anywhere, so a clever traveler usually carries a load of it on his shoulders for the road ahead. For at Canusium the bread is gritty. And that town, founded long ago by brave Diomedes, has not a jug more water.