No laws, divine or human, can restrain From necessary works the lab'ring swain. Ev'n holidays and feasts permission yield To float the meadows, or to fence the field, To fire the brambles, snare the birds, and steep

In wholesome waterfalls the woolly sheep. And oft the drudging ass is driv'n, with toil,

To neighb'ring towns with apples and with oil;

Returning late, and loaden, home with gain Of barter'd pitch, and handmills for the grain.

370

The lucky days, in each revolving moon, For labor 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.

With mountains pil'd on mountains, thrice they strove

To scale the steepy battlements of Jove; And thrice his lightning and red thunder play'd,

And their demolish'd works in ruin laid. The sev'nth is, next the tenth, the best to join

Young oxen to the yoke, and plant the vine: 380 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:

390

He sharpens torches in the glimm'ring room;

She shoots the flying shuttle thro' 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. Plow naked, swain, and naked sow the land;

401

Oft have I seen a sudden storm arise From all the warring winds that sweep the skies:

The heavy harvest from the root is torn, And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble borne;

With such a force the flying rack is driv'n, And such a winter wears the face of heav'n: And oft whole sheets descend of sluicy rain,

Suck'd by the spongy clouds from off the main;

The lofty skies at once come pouring down, The promis'd crop and golden labors drown.

The dykes are fill'd, and with a roaring sound

The rising rivers float the nether ground; And rocks the bellowing voice of boil

ing seas rebound.

440

The Father of the Gods his glory shrouds, Involv'd in tempests, and a night of clouds; And, from the middle darkness flashing out,

By fits he deals his fiery bolts about. Earth feels the motions of her angry god;) Her entrails tremble, and her mountains nod,

And flying beasts in forests seek abode: Deep horror seizes ev'ry human breast; 451 Their pride is humbled and their fear confess'd,

While he from high his rolling thunder throws,

And fires the mountains with repeated blows.

The rocks are from their old foundations

Soft whispers run along the leavy woods, And mountains whistle to the murm'ring floods.

Ev'n then the doubtful billows scarce abstain

From the toss'd vessel on the troubled main;

When crying cormorants forsake the sea, And stretching to the covert wing their

way;

When sportful coots run skimming o'er the strand;

When watchful herons leave their wat❜ry

stand,

Her silver crescent, tipp'd with sable clouds, Conclude she bodes a tempest on the main, And brews for fields impetuous floods of rain;

Or, if her face with fiery flushing glow, Expect the rattling winds aloft to blow. 580 But, four nights old, (for that's the surest sign,)

With sharpen'd horns if glorious then she shine,

Next day, nor only that, but all the moon,
Till her revolving race be wholly run,
Are void of tempests, both by land and sea,
And sailors in the port their promis'd vow
shall pay.

Above the rest, the sun, who never lies, Foretells the change of weather in the skies:

For if he rise unwilling to his race,
Clouds on his brows, and spots upon his

face,

590

sky.

619

Th' unerring sun by certain signs declares What the late ev'n or early morn prepares, And when the south projects a stormy day, And when the clearing north will puff the clouds away.

The sun reveals the secrets of the sky; And who dares give the source of light the lie ?

The change of empires often he declares,
Fierce tumults, hidden treasons, open wars.
He first the fate of Cæsar did foretell,
And pitied Rome, when Rome in Cæsar
fell;

In iron clouds conceal'd the public light, 630
And impious mortals fear'd eternal night.

Nor was the fact foretold by him alone: Nature herself stood forth, and seconded the sun.

Earth, air, and seas with prodigies were sign'd;

And birds obscene, and howling dogs divin'd. What rocks did Etna's bellowing mouth expire

From her torn entrails! and what floods of fire!

What clanks were heard, in German skies afar,

Of arms and armies, rushing to the war! Dire earthquakes rent the solid Alps below,

640 And from their summets shook th' eternal snow;

Pale specters in the close of night were

The subject of the following book is planting: in handling of which argument the poet shews all the different methods of raising trees, describes their variety, and gives rules for the management of each in particular. He then points out the soils in which the several plants thrive best, and thence takes occasion to run out into the praises of Italy: after which he gives some directions for discovering the nature of every soil, prescribes rules for the dressing of vines, olives, &c., and concludes the Georgic with a panegyric on a country life.

THUS far of tillage, and of heav'nly signs: Now sing, my Muse, the growth of gen'rous vines,

The shady groves, the woodland progeny, And the slow product of Minerva's tree.

Great Father Bacchus! to my song re

pair;

For clust'ring grapes are thy peculiar care: For thee, large bunches load the bending vine,

And the last blessings of the year are thine. To thee his joys the jolly Autumn owes, When the fermenting juice the vat o'erflows.

ΤΟ