And heav'n invok'd 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 tow'ring
height

Of wagons and the cart's unwieldly weight,
The sled, the tumbril, hurdles, and the flail,
The fan of Bacchus, with the flying sail-
These all must be prepar'd if ploughmen hope
The promis'd 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 offend your ear.
Delve of convenient depth your threshing
floor:

With temper'd clay, then fill and face it o'er;
And let the weighty roller run the round,
To smooth 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 vermin 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 flow'ring almonds in the wood: If od'rous blooms the bearing branches load, The glebe will answer to the sylvan reign; Great heats will follow, and large crops of grain.

With vig'rous nitre and with lees of oil,
O'er gentle fires, th' exub'rant juice to drain,
And swell the flatt'ring husks with fruitful
grain.

Yet, the success is not for years assur'd,
Though chosen is the seed, and fully cur'd,
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, degen'rate 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.

Nor must the ploughman less observe the

ckies,

When the Kids, Dragon, and Arcturus rise, Then sailors homeward bent, who cut their way

Thro' Helle's stormy straits, and oyster-breed

ing sea.

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 careet
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.
Some swains have sown before; but most have
found

A husky harvest from the grudging ground.
Vile vetches would you sow, or lentils lean,
The growth of Egypt, or the kidney bean,
Begin when the slow Wagoner descends
Nor cease your sowing till midwinter ends.
For this, through twelve bright signs Apollo
guides

The year, and earth in sev'ral 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 heav'n
To frosts and snows and bitter blasts are giv'n:
Betwixt the midst and these, the gods assign'd
Two habitable seats for human kind,
And 'cross their limits, cut a sloping way,
Which the twelve signs in beauteous order
sway.
[rise
Two poles, turn round the globe; one seen to
O'er Scythian hills, and one in Libyan skies;
The first sublime in heav'n, 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
She lights the downward heav'n, 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;
Or when to fell the furzes : when 't is meet
To spread the flying canvass for the fleet.
Observe what stars arise or disappear;
And the four quarters of the rolling year.
But, when cold weather and continu'd rain
The lab'ring 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 shin-
ing share,

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 lab'ring swain.
E'en holy days 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 driven, with toil,
To neighb'ring towns with apples and with oil;
Returning, late and laden, home with gain
Of barter'd pitch, and handmills for the grain.
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.
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 work in ruin laid.
The sev'nth 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 glim'ring 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 thresh it out and winnow it by day.
Plough naked, swain, and naked sow the land;
For lazy winter numbs the lab'ring 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 escap'd from stormy seas,
First crown their vessels,then indulge their ease.
Yet that's the proper time to thresh the wood
For mast of oak, your father's homely food;
To gather laurel-berries, and the spoil
Of bloody myrtles, and to press your oil:
For stalking cranes to set the guileful snare;
T' inclose the stags in toils, and hunt the hare;
With Balearic slings, or Gnossian bow,
To persecute from far the flying doe,
Then, when the fleecy skies new clothe the wood,
And cakes of rustling ice come rolling down the
flood.

Now sing we stormy stars, when autumn

weighs

The year, and adds to nights, and shortens days, And suns declining shine with feeble rays: What cares must then attend the toiling swain, Or when the low'ring spring, with lavish rain, Beats down the slender stem and bearded grain, While yet the head is green, or, lightly swell'd With milky moisture, overlooks the field. E'en when the farmer, now secure of fear, Sends in the swains to spoil the finish'd year,

E'en while the reaper fills his greedy hands, And binds the golden sheaves in brittle bands, 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 labours drown.
The dikes are fill'd; and, with a roaring sound,
The rising rivers float the nether ground;
And rocks the bellowing voice of boiling seas
rebound.

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;
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 rent;
The winds redouble, and the rains augment:
The waves on heaps are dash'd against the
shore ;

And now the woods, and now the billows, roar
In fear of this, observe the starry signs,
Where Saturn houses, and where Hermes joins.
But first to heav'n thy due devotions pay,
And annual gifts on Ceres' altar lay.
When winter's rage abates, when cheerful
hours

Awake the spring, the spring awakes the flow'rs,
On the green turf thy careless limbs display,
And celebrate the mighty Mother's day:
For then the hills with pleasing shades are
crown'd,

And sleeps are sweeter on the silken ground:
With milder beams the sun serenely shines:
Fat are the lambs, and luscious are the wines.
Let ev'ry swain adore her pow'r divine,
And milk and honey mix with sparkling wine:
Let all the choir of clowns attend the show,
In long procession, shouting as they go
Invoking her to bless their yearly stores,
Invoking plenty to their crowded floors.
Thus in the spring, and thus in summer's heat,
Before the sickles touch the rip'ning wheat,
On Ceres call; and let the lab'ring hind
With oaken wreaths his hollow temples bind:

For, ere the rising winds begin to roar,
The working seas advance to wash the shore:
Soft whispers run along the leafy woods;
And mountains whistle to the murm'ring floods.
E'en 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,
And, mounting upward with erected flight,
Gain on the skies, and soar above the sight.
And oft, before tempestuous winds arise,
The seeming stars fall headlong from the skies,
And, shooting through the darkness, gild the
night

With sweeping glories, and long trails of light;
And chaff with eddy-winds is whirl'd around,
And dancing leaves are lifted from the ground;
And floating feathers on the waters play.
But, when the winged thunder takes his way
From the cold north, and east and west engage,
And at their frontiers meet with equal rage,
The clouds are crush'd: a glut of gather'd rain
The hollow ditches fills, and floats the plain;
And sailors furl their dropping sheets amain.
Wet weather seldom hurts the most unwise;
So plain the signs, such prophets are the skies.
The wary crane foresees it first, and sails
Above the storm, and leaves the lowly vales:
The cow looks up, and from afar can find
The change of heaven, and snuffs it in the wind:
The swallow skims the river's wat'ry face:
The frogs renew the croaks of their loquacious

mands,

And single stalks along the desert sands.
The nightly virgin, while her wheel she plies
Foresees the storm impending in the skies,
When sparkling lambs their sputt'ring light ad-

vance,

And in the sockets oily bubbles dance.

Then, after showers, 'tis easy to descry
Returning suns and a serener sky:

The stars shine smarter; and the moon adorns,
As with unborrow'd beams, her sharpen'd horns.
The filmy gossamer now flits no more,
Nor halcyons bask on the short sunny shore:
Their litter is not toss'd by sows unclean;
But a blue droughty mist descends upon the
plain;

And owls, that mark the setting sun, declare
A star-light evening, and a morning fair.
Tow'ring aloft avenging Nisus flies,
While, dar'd, below the guilty Scylla lies.
Wherever frighted Scylla flies away
Swift Nisus follows, and pursues his prey:
Where injured Nisus takes his airy course,
Thence trembling Seylla flies, and shuns his
force,

This punishment pursues th' unhappy maid,
And thus the purple hair is dearly paid:
Then, thrice the ravens rend the liquid air,
And croaking notes proclaim the settled fair.
Then round their airy palaces they fly,
To greet the sun; and, seiz'd with secret joy,
When storms are overblown, with food repair
To their forsaken nests, and callow care.
Not that I think their breasts with heav'nly
souls

Inspir'd, as man, who destiny controls.
But with the changeful temper of the skies,
As rains condense, and sunshine rarifies,
So turn the species in their alter'd minds,
Compos'd by calms and discompos'd by winds :
From hence proceeds the bird's harmonious
voice;

From hence the cows exult, and frisking lambs rejoice.

Observe the daily circle of the sun,

And the short year of each revolving moon:
By them thou shalt foresee the following day;
Nor shall a starry night thy hopes betray.
When first the moon appears, if then she
shrouds

Her silver crescent tipp'd with sable clouds,
Conclude she bodes a tempest on the main,
And brews for fields impetuous floods of rain.
O-. if her face with fiery flushing glow,
Expect the rattling winds aloft to blow.
But, four nights old, (for that's the surest sign)
With sharpen'd horns if glorious then she shine,

'Till her revolving race be wholly run, Are void of tempests, linth 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 brow, and spots upon his face,
Or if through mists he shoots his sullen beams,
Frugal of light, in loose and straggling streams,
Suspect a drizzling day, with southern rain,
Fatal to fruits and flocks, and promis'd grain.
Or, if Aurora, with half open'd eyes,
And a pale sickly cheek, salute the skies
How shall the vine, with tender leaves, defend
Her teeming clusters, when the storms descend
When ridgy roofs and tiles can scarce avail
To bar the ruin of the rattling hail?
But more than all, the setting sun survey,
When down the steep of heav'n he drives the
day:

For oft we find him finishing his race,
With various colours erring on his face.
If fiery red his glowing globe descends,
High winds and furious tempests he portends:
But, if his cheeks are swoln with livid blue,
He bodes wet weather by his wat'ry hue:
If dusky spots are varied on his brow,
And streak'd with red, a troubled colour show,
That sullen mixture shall at once declare
Winds, rain, and storms, and elemental war.
What desp'rate madman then would venture o'e
The frith, or haul his cables from the shore?
But, if with purple rays he brings the light,
And a pure heav'n reigns to quiet night,
No rising winds, or falling storms are nigh;
But northern breezes through the forests fly,
And drive the rack, and purge the ruffled sky.
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;
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 Ætna'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,
And from their summits shook th' eternal

snow,

Pale spectres in the close of night were seen;
And voices heard of more than mortal men,
In silent groves: dumb sheep and oxen spoke;
And streams ran backward, and their beds
forsook:

The yawning earth disclos'd th' abyss of hell:
The weeping statues did the wars foretell;
And holy sweat from brazen idols fell.
Then, rising in his might, the king of floods
Rush'd through the forest, tore the lofty woods,
And, rolling onward, with a sweepy sway,
Bore houses, herds, and lab'ring hinds away,
Blood sprang from wells; wolves howl'd in towns

by night,

And boding victims did the priests affright. Such peals of thunder never pour'd from high, Nor forky light'nings flash'd from such a sullen sky.

Red meteors ran across the etherial space; Stars disappear'd, and comets took their place. For this th' Emathian plains once more were strew'd

[good With Roman bodies, and just heav'n thought To fatten twice those fields with Roman blood. Then, after length of time, the lab'ring swains, Who turn the turfs of those unhappy plains, Shall rusty piles from the plough'd furrows take,

And over empty helmets pass the rake-
Amaz'd at antique titles on the stones,
And mighty relics of gigantic bones

Ye home-born deities of mortal birth!
Thou father Romulus, and mother Earth,
Goddess unmov'd! whose guardian arms ex-
tend,

O'er Tuscan Tiber's course, and Roman tow'rs defend;

With youthful Cæsar your joint pow'rs engage,
Nor hinder him to save the sinking age.
O! let the blood, already spilt, atone
For the past crimes of curst Laomedon!
Heav'n wants thee there: and long the gods, we
know,

Have grudg'd thee, Cæsar, to the world below, Where fraud and rapine right and wrong confound,

Where impious arms from ev'ry part resound, And monstrous crimes in ev'ry shape are crown'd.

The peaceful peasant to the wars is press'd;
The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest;

The plain no pasture to the flock affords;
The crooked scythes are straighten'd inte
swords;

And there Euphrates her soft offspring arms,
And here the Rhine rebellows with alarms;
The neighb'ring cities range on several sides,
Perfidious Mars long plighted leagues divides,
And o'er the wasted world in triumph rides.
So four fierce coursers, starting to the race,
Scour through the plain, and lengthen every
pace;

Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threat'ning cries, they fear,

But force along the trembling charioteer

GEORGIC II.

ARGUMENT.

The subject of the following book is planting; in handling of which argument, the poet shows 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 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 repair;
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.
Come, strip with me, my god! come drench
all o'er

Thy limbs in must of wine, and drink at ev'ry pore. [owe;

Some trees their birth to bounteous nature For some, without the pains of planting, grow. With osiers thus the banks of brooks abound, Sprung from the wat'ry genius of the ground. From the same principles gray willows come Herculean poplar, and the tender broom But some, from seeds inclos'd in earth arise; For thus the mastful chestnut mates the skies. Hence rise the branching beech and vocal oak, Where Jove of old oraculously spoke. Some from the root a rising wo

Thus elms, and thus the savage cherry grows : Thus the green bay, that binds the poet's brows, Shoots, and is shelter'd by the mother's boy gha,