The gods, alas! are witnesses in vain:

Yet shall my dying breath to heaven complain. Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian

strain.

"The pines of Mænalus, the vocal grove, Are ever full of verse and full of love: They hear the hinds, they hear their god complain, Who suffer'd not the reeds to rise in vain. [strain. Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian

"Mopsus triumphs: he weds the willing fair. When such is Nisa's choice, what lover can despair ?

Now griffons join with mares; another age
Shall see the hound and hind their thirst assuage,
Promiscuous at the spring. Prepare the lights,
O Mopsus! and perform the bridal rites.
Scatter thy nuts among the scrambling boys:
Thine is the night, and thine the nuptial jovs.
For thee the sun declines: O happy swain! [strain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Mænalian

"O Nisa! justly to thy choice condemn'd! Whom hast thou taken, whom hast thou contemn'd?

For him, thou hast refused my brow zing herd,
Scorn'd my thick eye-brows, and my shaggy beard.
Unhappy Damon sighs and sings in vain,
While Nisa thinks no god regards a lover's pain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian
strain.

"I view'd thee first, (how fatal was the view!)
And led thee where the ruddy wildings grew, [dew.
High on the planted hedge, and wet with morning
Then soarce the bending branches I could win;
The callow down began to clothe my chin.
I saw; I perish'd; yet indulged my pain. [strain.
Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian

"I know thee, Love! in deserts thou wert bred, And at the dugs of savage tigers fed; Alien of birth, usurper of the plains! [strains. Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian

"Relentless Love the cruel mother led The blood of her unhappy babes to shed: Love lent the sword; the mother struck the blow; Inhuman she; but more inhuman thou: Alien of birth, usurper of the plains! [strains. Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian

"Old doting Nature, change thy course anew; And let the trembling lamb the wolf pursue: Let oaks now glitter with Hesperian fruit, And purple daffodils from alder shoot: Fat amber let the tamarisk distil, And hooting owls contend with swans in skill: Hoarse Tityrus strive with Orpheus in the woods, And challenge famed Arion on the floods. Or, oh! let Nature cease, aud Chaos reign! [strain. Begin with me, my flute, the sweet Manalian

"Let earth be sea; and let the whelming tide The lifeless limbs of luckless Damon hide: Farewell, ye secret woods, and shady groves, Haunts of my youth and conscious of my loves! From yon high cliff I plunge into the main : Take the last present of thy dying swain: [strain." And cease, my silent flute, the sweet Mænalian

Now take your turns, ye Muses, to rehearse His friend's complants, and mighty magic verse. "Bring running water: bind those altars round With fillets, and with vervain strow the ground: Make fat with frankincense the sacred fires, To re-inflame my Daphnis with desires. "Tis done: we want but verse.-Restore, my charms,

My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Pale Phoebe, drawn by verse, from heaven
descends;

And Circe changed with charms Ulysses' friends.
Verse breaks the ground, and penetrates the brake,
And in the winding cavern splits the snake.
Verse fires the frozen veins.-Restore, my charms,
My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Around his waxen image first I wind Three woollen fillets, of three colours join'd;

Thrice bind about his thrice-devoted head,
Which round the sacred altar thrice is led.
Unequal numbers please the gods.-My charms,
Restore my Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Knit with three knots the fillets: knit them
straight;

Then say, 'These knots to Love I consecrate.'
Haste, Amaryllis, haste !-Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.

"As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,
And this of wax with fire consumes away;
Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be-
Hard to the rest of women, soft to me.
Crumble the sacred mole of salt and corn:
Next in the fire the bays with brimstone burn;
And, while it crackles in the sulphur, say,
This I for Daphnis burn; thus Daphnis burn
away!

This laurel is his fate.'-Restore, my charms,
My lovely Daphnis to my longing arms.

"As when the raging heifer, through the grove,
Stung with desire, pursues her wandering love;
Faint at the last, she seeks the weedy pools,
To quench her thirst, and on the rushes rolls,
Careless of night, unmindful to return;
Such fruitless fires perfidious Daphnis burn,
While I so scorn his love -Restore, my charms,
My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.

"These garments once were his, and left to me, The pledges of his promised loyalty, Which underneath my threshold I bestow. [owe. These pawns, O sacred earth to me my Daphnis As these were his, so mine is he.-My charms, Restore their lingering lord to my deluded arms.

"These poisonous plants, for magic use design'd, (The noblest and the best of all the baneful kind) Old Moeris brought me from the Pontic strand, And cull'd the mischief of a bounteous land. Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain, He howls a wolf among the hungry train; And oft the mighty necromancer boasts, With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts, And from the roots to tear the standing corn, Which, whirl'd aloft, to distant fields is borne: Such is the strength of spells.--Restore, my charms, My lingering Daphnis to my longing arms.

"Bear out these ashes: cast them in the brook; Cast backwards o'er your head; nor turn your look: Since neither gods nor godlike verse can move, Break out, ye smother'd fires, and kindle smother'd love.

Exert your utmost power, my lingering charms;
And force my Daphnis to my longing arms.

"See, while my last endeavours I delay,
The waking ashes rise, and round our altars play!
Run to the threshold, Amaryllis-bark!
Our Hylax opens, and begins to bark.

Good heaven! may lovers what they wish believe? Or dream their wishes, and those dreams deceive? No more! my Daphnis comes! no more, my charms! He comes, he runs, he leaps, to my desiring arms."

PASTORAL IX,

OR,

LYCIDAS AND MERIS.

ARGUMENT.

When Virgil, by the favour of Augustus, had recovered his patrimony near Mantua, and went in hope to take possession, he was in danger to be slain by Arius the centurion, to whom those lands were assigned by the emperor, in reward of his service against Brutus and Cassius. This pastoral therefore is filled with complaints of his hard usage; and the persons introduced are the bailiff of Virgil, Maris, and his friend Lycidas.

LYCIDAS.

Ho, Maris! whither on thy way so fast? This leads to town.

MERIS.

O Lycidas! at last The time is come, I never thought to see, Strange revolution for my farm and me !) When the grim captain in a surly tone Cries out, "Pack up, ye rascals, and be gone.' Kick'd out, we set the best face on't we could; And these two kids, t' appease his angry mood,. 1 bear, of which the Furies give him good!

LYCIDAS.

Your country friends were told another taleThat, from the sloping mountain to the vale, And dodder'd oak, and all the banks along, Menalcas saved his fortune with a song.

MERIS.

Such was the news, indeed; but songs and rhymes
Prevail as much in these hard iron times,
As would a plump of trembling fowl, that rise
Against an eagle sousing from the skies.

And had not Phoebus warn'd' me, by the croak

⚫ Of an old raven from a hollow oak,

To shun debate, Menalcas had been slain,
And Moris not survived him, to complain.

LYCIDAS.

Now heaven defend! could barbarous rage induce
The brutal son of Mars t' insult the sacred Muse?
Who then should sing the nymphs? or who re-
The waters gliding in a smoother verse? [hearse
Or Amaryllis praise that heavenly lay,
That shorten'd, as we went, our tedious way-
"O Tityrus, tend my herd, and see them fed;
To morning pastures, evening waters, led;
And 'ware the Libyan ridgil's butting head."

MERIS.

Or what unfinish'd he to Varus read-
"Thy name, O Varus, (if the kinder powers
Preserve our plains, and shield the Mantuan towers,
Obnoxious by Cremona's neighbouring crime)
The wings of swains, and stronger-pinion'd rhyme,
Shall raise aloft, and soaring bear above-
Th' immortal gift of gratitude to Jove."

LYCIDAS.

Sing on, sing on: for I can ne'er be cloy'd.
So may thy swarms the baleful yew avoid :
So may thy cows their burden'd bags distend,
And trees to goats their willing branches bend.
Mean as I am, yet have the Muses made
Me free, a member of the tuneful trade:
At least the shepherds seem to like my lays:
But I discern their flattery from their praise:
I nor to Cinna's ears, nor Varus', dare aspire,
But gabble, like a goose amidst the swan-like choir.

MERIS.

"Tis what I have been conning in my mind;
Nor are thy verses of a vulgar kind.
"Come, Galatea! come! the seas forsake!
What pleasures can the tides with their hoarse
murmurs make?

See, on the shore inhabits purple spring;
Where nightingales their love-sick ditty sing:
See, meads with purling streams, with flowers the
ground,

The grottos cool, with shady poplars crown'd,
And creeping vines on arbours weaved around.
Come then, and leave the waves' tumultuous roar;
Let the wild surges vainly beat the shore."

LYCIDAS.

Or that sweet song I heard with such delight; The same you sung alone one starry night. The tune I still retain, but not the words.

MORIS.

"Why, Daphnis, dost thou search in old records,
To know the seasons when the stars arise?
See, Cæsar's lamp is lighted in the skies
The star, whose rays the blushing grapes adorn,
And swell the kindly ripening ears of corn.
Under this influence graft the tender shoot;
Thy children's children shall enjoy the fruit."
The rest I have forgot; for cares and time
Change all things, and untune my soul to rhyme.
I could have once sung down a summer's sun:
But now the chime of poetry is done:

My voice grows hoarse; I feel the notes decay,
As if the wolves had seen me first to-day.

But these, and more than I to mind can bring, Menalcas has not yet forgot to sing.

LYCIDAS.

[bower

Thy faint excuses but inflame me more:
And now the waves roll silent to the shore;
Hush'd winds the topmost branches scarcely bend,.
As if thy tuneful song they did attend:
Already we have half our way o'ercome;
Far off I can discern Bianor's tomb.
Here, where the labourer's hands have form'd a
Of wreathing trees, in singing waste an hour-
Rest here thy weary limbs; thy kids lay down-
We've day before us yet, to reach the town;
Or if, ere night, the gathering clouds we fear,
A song will help the beating storm to bear.
And, that thou may'st not be too late abroad,
Sing, and I'll ease thy shoulders of thy load.

MERIS.

Cease to request me; let us mind our way:
Another song requires another day.
When good Menalcas comes, if he rejoice,
And find a friend at court, I'll find a voice.

PASTORAL X.

OR,
GALLUS.

ARGUMENT.

Gallus a great patron of Virgil, and an excellent poet, was very deeply in love with one Cytheris, whom he calls Lycoris, and who had forsaken him for the company of a soldier. The poet therefore supposes his friend Gallus retired, in his height of melaneholy, into the solitudes of Arcadia (the celebrated scene of pastorals,) where he represents him in a very languishing condition, with all the rural deities about him, pitying his hard usage, and condoling his misfortune.

THY sacred succour, Arethusa, bring,
To crown my labour ('tis the last I sing,)
Which proud Lycoris may, with pity view:-
The Muse is mournful, though the numbers few,
Refuse me not a verse, to grief and Gallus due.
So may thy silver streams beneath the tide,
Unmix'd with briny seas, securely glide.
Sing then my Gallus, and his hopeless vows;
Sing, while my cattle crop the tender browse.
The vocal grove shall answer to the sound, [bound.
And Echo, from the vales, the tuneful voice re-
What lawns or woods withheld you from his aid,
Ye nymphs, when Gallus was to love betray'd,
To love, unpitied by the cruel maid?
Not steepy Pindus could retard your course,
Nor cleft Parnassus, nor th' Aonian source:
Nothing that owns the Muses, could suspend
Your aid to Gallus :-Gallus is their friend.
For him the lofty laurel stands in tears, [pears.
And hung with humid pearls the lowly shrub ap-
Mænalian pines the godlike swain bemoan,
When spread beneath a rock, he sigh'd alone;
And cold Lycæus wept from every dropping stone.
The sheep surround their shepherd, as he lies:
Blush not, sweet poet, nor the name despise:
Along the streams, his flock Adonis fed;
And yet the queen of beauty bless'd his bed.
The swains and tardy neatherds came, and last
Menalcas, wet with beating winter mast.
Wondering, they ask'd from whence arose thy
Yet more amazed, thy own Apollo came. [flame.
Flush'd were his cheeks, and glowing were his eyes:
"Is she thy care? is she thy care ?" he cries,
"Thy false Lycoris flies thy love and thee,
And, for thy rival, tempts the raging sea,
The forms of horrid war, and heaven's inclemency."
Silvanus came: his brows a country crown
Of fennel, and of nodding lilies, drown.
Great Pan arrived,; and we beheld him too,
His cheeks and temples of vermillion hue.
"Why, Gallus, this immoderate grief?" he cried:
"Think'st thou that love with tears is satisfied?
The meads are sooner drunk with morning dews,
The bees with flowery shrubs, the goats with

65

70

Her frozen bosom to the western winds;
While mountain snows dissolve against the sun,
And streams, yet new, from precipices run;
E'en in this early dawning of the year,
Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer,
And goad him till he groans beneath his toil,
Till the bright share is buried in the soil.
That crop rewards the greedy peasant's pains,
Which twice the sun, and twice the cold sustains,
And bursts the crowded barns with more than
promised gains.

But, ere we stir the yet unbroken ground,
The various course of seasons must be found;
The weather, and the setting of the winds,
The culture suiting to the several kinds

75

80

85

Of seeds and plants, and what will thrive and rise,
And what the genius of the soil denies.
This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres, suits :
That other loads the trees with happy fruits:
A fourth, with grass unbidden decks the ground.
Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crown'd:
India black ebon and white ivory bears;
And soft Idume weeps her odorous tears.
Thus Pontus sends her beaver-stones from far;
And naked Spaniards temper steel for war:
Epirus, for th' Elean chariot, breeds
(In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds.
This is th' original contract; these the laws
Imposed by Nature, and by Nature's cause,
On sundry places, when Deucalion hurl'd
His mother's entrails on the desert world;
Whence men, a hard laborious kind, were born. 95
Then borrow part of winter for thy corn;
And early, with thy team, the glebe in furrows
turn;

That, while the turf lies open and unbound,
Succeeding suns may bake the mellow ground.
But, if the soil be barren, only scar

90

100

The surface, and but lightly print the share,
When cold Arcturus rises with the sun;
Lest wicked weeds the corn should overrun
In watery soils, or lest the barren sand
Should suck the moisture from the thirsty land.
Both these unhappy soils the swain forbears,
And keeps a sabbath of alternate years,
That the spent earth may gather heart again,
And, better'd by cessation, bear the grain.
At least where vetches, pulse, and tares, have
stood,

106

And stalks of lupines grew (a stubborn wood,)
Th' ensuing season, in return, may bear
The bearded product of the golden year:
For flax and oats will burn the tender field,

And sleepy poppies harmful harvests yield. But sweet vicissitudes of rest and toil

115

110

Make easy labour, and renew the soil.
Yet sprinkle sordid ashes all around,
And load with fatt'ning dung thy fallow ground.
Thus change of seeds for meagre soils is best; 120
And earth manured, not idle, though at rest.

125

Long practice has a sure improvement found,
With kindled fires to burn the barren ground,
When the light stubble, to the flames resign'd,
Is driven along, and crackles in the wind.
Whether from hence the hollow womb of earth
Is warm'd with secret strength for better birth;
Or, when the latent vice is cured by fire,
Redundant humours through the pores expire; 129
Or that the warmth distends the chinks, and makes
New breathings, whence new nourishment she
takes;

Or that the heat the gaping ground constrains,
New knits the surface, and new strings the veins;
Lest soaking showers should pierce her secret seat.
Or freezing Boreas chill her genial heat,
Or scorching suns too violently beat.

135

140

146

The crumbling clods: nor Ceres from on high
Regards his labours with a grudging eye;
Nor his, who ploughs across the furrow'd grounds,
And on the back of earth inflicts new wounds;
For he, with frequent exercise, commands
Th' unwilling soil, and tames the stubborn lands.
Ye swains, invoke the powers who rule the sky
For a moist summer, and a winter dry;
For winter drought rewards the peasant's pain,
And broods indulgent on the buried grain.
Hence Mysia boasts her harvests, and the tops
Of Gargarus admire their happy crops.
When first the soil receives the fruitful seed,
Make no delay, but cover it with speed:
So fenced from cold the pliant furrows break,
Before the surly clod resists the rake;

150

[yield,

162

176

180

And call the floods from high, to rush amain 155
With pregnant streams, to swell the teeming grain.
Then, when the fiery suns too fiercely play,
And shrivel'd herbs on withering stems decay,
The wary ploughman, on the mountain's brow,
Undams his watery stores-huge torrents flow, 160
And, rattling down the rocks, large moisture
Tempering the thirsty fever of the field-
And, lest the stem, too feeble for the freight,
Should scarce sustain the head's unwieldy weight,
Sends in his feeding flocks betimes, t'invade
The rising bulk of the luxuriant blade,
Ere yet th' aspiring offspring of the grain
O'ertops the ridges of the furrow'd plain;
And drains the standing waters, when they yield
Too large a beverage to the drunken field: 170
But most in autumn, and the showery spring,
When dubious months uncertain weather bring;
When fountains open, when impetuous rain
Swells hasty brooks, and pours upon the plain;
When earth with slime and mud is covered o'er,
Or hollow places spew their watery store.
Nor yet the ploughman, nor the labouring steer,
Sustain alone the hazards of the year:
But glutton geese, and the Strymonian crane,
With foreign troops invade the tender grain;
And towering weeds malignant shadows yield;
And spreading succ'ry chokes the rising field.
The sire of gods and men, with hard decrees,
Forbids our plenty to be bought with ease,
And wills that mortal men, inured to toil,
Should exercise, with pains, the grudging soil;
Himself invented first the shining share,
And whetted human industry by care;
Himself did handicrafts and arts ordain,
Nor suffered sloth to rust his active reign.
Ere this, no peasant vex'd the peaceful ground,
Which only turfs and greens for altars found:
No fences parted fields, nor marks nor bounds
Distinguish'd acres of litigious grounds:
But all was common, and the fruitful earth
Was free to give her unexacted birth.
Jove added venom to the vipèr's brood,
And swell'd, with raging storms, the peaceful
Commission'd hungry wolves t' infest the fold,
And shook from oaken leaves the liquid gold; 200
Removed from human reach the cheerful fire,
And from the rivers bade the wine retire;
That studious need might useful arts explore;
From furrow'd fields to reap the foodful store,
And force the veins of clashing flints t' expire 205
The lurking seeds of their celestial fire.
Then first on seas the hollow'd alder swam;
Then sailors quarter'd heaven, and found a name
For every fix'd and every wandering star-
The Pleiads, Hyads, and the Northern Car.
Then toils for beasts, and lime for birds, were

And deep-mouth'd dogs did forest-walks surround;
And casting-nets were spread in shallow brooks,
Drags in the deep, and baits were hung or hooks.
Then saws were tooth'd, and sounding axes made
(For wedges first did yielding wood invade)
And various arts in order did succeed,
(What cannot endless labour, urged by need?)
First Ceres taught, the ground with grain to sow,
And arm'd with iron shares the crooked plough;
When now Dodonian oaks no more supplied
Their mast, and trees their forest-fruits denied.
Soon was his labour doubled to the swain,
And blasting mildews blacken'd all his grain:
Though thistles choked the fields, and kill'd the
225

corn,

And an unthrifty crop of weeds was born: Then burs and brambles, an unbidden crew Of graceless guests, th' unhappy field subdue;

321

And oats unbless'd, and darnel domineers,
And shoots its head above the shining ears,
So that, unless the land with daily care
Is exercised, and, with an iron war

230

240

250

Of rakes and harrows, the proud foes expell'd,
And birds with clamours frighted from the field-
Unless the boughs are lopp'd that shade the
plain,
235
And heaven invoked with vows for fruitful rain-
On others' crops you may with envy look,
And shake for food the long-abandon'd oak,
Nor must we pass untold what arms they wield,
Who labour tillage and the furrow'd field;
Without whose aid the ground her corn denies,
And nothing can be sown, and nothing rise-
The crooked plough, the share, the towering height
Of waggons, and the cart's unwieldy weight,
The sled, the tumbril, hurdles, and the flail, 245
The fan of Bacchus, with the flying sail-
These all must be prepared, if ploughmen hope
The promised blessing of a bounteous crop.
Young elms, with early force, in copses bow,
Fit for the figure of the crooked plough.
Of eight feet long a fasten'd beam prepare:
On either side the head, produce an ear;
And sink a socket for the shining share.
Of beech the plough-tail and the bending yoke,
Or softer linden harden'd in the smoke.
I could be long in precepts; but I fear
So mean a subject might oflend your ear.
Delve of convenient depth your threshing floor.
With tempered clay, then fill and face it o'er;
And let the weighty roller run the round,
To smoothe the surface of th' unequal ground;
Lest, crack'd with summer heats, the flooring flies,
Or sinks, and through the crannies weeds arise:
For sundry foes the rural realm surround:
The field mouse builds her garner under ground
For gather'd grain: the blind laborious mole
In winding mazes works her hidden hole:
In hollow caverns vermine make abode-
The hissing serpent, and the swelling toad:
The corn-devouring weasel here abides,
And the wise ant her wintry store provides.
Mark well the flowering almonds in the wood:
If odorous blooms the bearing branches load,
The glebe will answer to the silvan reign;
Great heats will follow, and large crops of grain.
But, if a wood of leaves o'ershade the tree,
Such and so barren will thy harvest be:

255

260

264

270

271

279

285

In vain the hind shall vex the thrashing-floor;
For empty chaff and straw will be thy store.
Some steep their seed, and some in caldrons boil,
With vigorous nitre and with lees of oil,
O'er gentle fires, th' exuberant juice to drain,
And swell the flattering husks with fruitful grain.
Yet is not the success for years assured,
Though chosen is the seed, and fully cured,
Unless the peasant, with his annual pain,
Renews his choice, and culls the largest grain.
Thus all below, whether by Nature's curse,
Or Fate's decree, degenerate still to worse.
So the boat's brawny crew the current stem,
And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream:
But, if they slack their hands, or cease to strive,
Then down the flood with headlong haste they
drive.

290

[sea.

300

Nor must the ploughman less observe the skies, When the Kids, Dragon, and Arcturus, rise, 295 Then sailors homeward bent, who cut their way Through Helle's stormy straits, and oyster-breeding But, when Astrea's balance, hung on high, Betwixt the nights and days divides the sky, Then yoke your oxen, sow your winter grain, Till cold December comes with driving rain. Linseed and fruitful poppy bury warm, In a dry season, and prevent the storm. Sow beans and clover in a rotten soil, And millet rising from your annual toil, When with his golden horns, in full career, The Bull beats down the barriers of the year, And Argo and the Dog forsake the northern sphere. But, if your care to wheat alone extend, Let Maia with her sisters first descend. And the bright Gnossian diadem downward bend, Before you trust in earth your future hope; Or else expect a listless lazy crop.

305

310

Some swains have sown before; but most have

319

336

Begin when the slow Waggoner descends;
Nor cease your sowing till mid-winter ends.
For this, through twelve bright signs Apollo guides
The year, and earth in several climes divides.
Five girdles bind the skies: the torrid zone
Glows with the passing and repassing sun:
Far on the right and left, th' extremes of heaven
To frosts and snows and bitter blasts are given :
Betwixt the midst and these, the gods assign'd 326
Two habitable seats for human kind,
And, 'cross their limits, cut a sloping way,
Which the twelve signs in beauteous order sway.
Two poles turn round the globe; one seen to rise
O'er Scythian hills, and one in Libyan skies: 331
The first sublime in heaven, the last is whirl'd
Below the regions of the nether world.
Around our pole the spiry Dragon glides,
And, like a winding stream, the Bears divides-
The less and greater, who by Fate's decree
Abhor to dive beneath the northern sea.
There, as they say, perpetual night is found
In silence brooding on th' unhappy ground:
Or, when Aurora leaves our northern sphere, 340
She lights the downward heaven, and rises there;
And, when on us she breathes the living light,
Red Vesper kindles there the tapers of the night.
From hence uncertain seasons we may know;
And when to reap the grain, and when to sow; 345
Or when to fell the furzes; when 'tis meet
To spread the flying canvas for the fleet.
Observe what stars arise or disappear;
And the four quarters of the rolling year.
But, when cold weather and continued rain
The labouring husband in his house restrain,
Let him forecast his work with timely care,
Which else is huddled, when the skies are fair:
Then let him mark the sheep, or whet the shining
share,

350

335

360

380

Or hollow trees for boats, or number o'er
His sacks, or measure his increasing store,
Or sharpen stakes, or head the forks, or twine
The sallow twigs to tie the straggling vine;
Or wicker baskets weave, or air the corn,
Or grinded grain betwixt two marbles turn.
No laws, divine or human, can restrain
From necessary works the labouring swain.
Even holy-days and feasts permission yield
To float the meadows, or to fence the field,
To fire the brambles, snare the birds, and steep 365
In wholesome waterfalls the woolly sheep.
And oft the drudging ass is driven, with toil,
To neighbouring towns with apples and with oil;
Returning, late and loaden, home with gain
Of barter'd pitch, and hand-mills for the grain. 370
The lucky days, in each revolving moon,
For labour choose: the fifth be sure to shun;
That gave the Furies and pale Pluto birth,
And arm'd, against the skies, the sons of earth. 374
With mountains piled on mountains, thrice they
To scale the steepy battlements of Jove; [strove
And thrice his lightning and red thunder play'd,
And their demolish'd works in ruin laid.
The seventh is, next the tenth, the best to join
Young oxen to the yoke, and plant the vine.
Then, weavers, stretch your stays upon the weft.
The ninth is good for travel, bad for theft.
Some works in dead of night are better done,
Or when the morning dew prevents the sun.
Parch'd meads and stubble mow by Phoebe's light,
Which both require the coolness of the night;
For moisture then abounds, and pearly rains
Descend in silence to refresh the plains.
The wife and husband equally conspire
To work by night, and rake the winter fire:
He sharpens torches in the glimmering room;
She shoots the flying shuttle through the loom,
Or boils in kettles must of wine, and skims,
With leaves, the dregs that overflow the brims:
And, till the watchful cock awakes the day,
She sings to drive the tedious hours away.
But, in warm weather, when the skies are clear,
By daylight reap the product of the year;
And in the sun your golden grain display,
And thrash it out and winnow it by day.
Plough naked, swain, and naked sow the land;
For lazy winter numbs the labouring hand.
In genial winter, swains enjoy their store,
Forget their hardships and recruit for more.
The farmer to full bowls invites his friends,
And, what he got with pains, with pleasure spends.
So sailors, when escaped from stormy seas,
First crown their vessels, then indulge their ease.

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