But when the golden spring reveals the year,
And the white bird returns, whom serpents fear;
That season deem the best to plant thy vines,
Next that, is when autumnal warmth declines;
Ere heat is quite decay'd, or cold begun,
Or Capricorn admits the winter Sun.

The spring adorns the woods, renews the leaves,
The womb of Earth the genial seed receives.
For then almighty Jove descends, and pours
Into his buxom bride his fruitful showers:
And, mixing his large limbs with hers, he feeds
Her birth with kindly juice, and fosters teeming
seeds.

Then joyous birds frequent the lonely grove,
And beasts, by Nature stung, renew their love.
Then fields the blades of bury'd corn disclose,
And, while the balmy western spirit blows,
Earth to the breath her bosom dares expose.
With kindly moisture then the plants abound,
The grass securely springs above the ground;
The tender twig shoots upward to the skies,
And on the faith of the new Sun relies.
The swerving vines on the tall elms prevail
Unhurt by southern showers or northern bail.
They spread their gems the genial warmth to share,
And boldly trust the buds in open air.
In this soft season (let me dare to sing)
The world was hatch'd by Heaven's imperial king:
In prime of all the year, and holydays of spring.
Then did the new creation first appear;
Nor other was the tenour of the year:
When laughing Heaven did the great birth attend,
And eastern winds their wintery breath suspend:
Then sheep first saw the Sun in open fields;
And savage beasts were sent to stock the wilds:
And golden stars flew up to light the skies,
And man's relentless race from stony quarries rise.
Nor could the tender, new creation, bear
Th' excessive heats or coldness of the year;
But, chill'd by winter, or by summer fir'd,
The middle temper of the Spring requir'd.
When warmth and moisture did at once abound,
And Heaven's indulgence brooded on the ground.
For what remains, in depth of earth secure
Thy cover'd plants, and dung with hot manure;
And shells and gravel in the ground enclose;
For through their hollow chinks the water flows:
Which, thus imbib'd, returns in misty dews,
And, steaming up, the rising plant renews.
Some husbandmen, of late, have found the way,
A hilly heap of stones above to lay,
And press the plants with shreds of potters' clay.
This fence against immoderate rain they found
Or when the Dog-star cleaves the thirsty ground.
Be mindful, when thou hast entomb'd the shoot,
With store of earth around to feed the root;
With iron teeth of rakes and prongs to move
The crusted earth, and loosen it above.
Then exercise thy sturdy steers to plough
Betwixt thy vines, and teach the feeble row
To mount on reeds and wands, and, upward led,
On ashen poles to raise their forky head.
On these new crutches let them learn to walk,
Till, swerving upwards, with a stronger stalk,
They brave the winds, aud, clinging to their guide,
On tops of elms at length triumphant ride.
But in their tender nonage, while they spread
Their springing leaves, and lift their infant head,
And upward while they shoot in open air,
Indulge their childhood, and the nursling spare.

Nor exercise thy rage on newborn life,
But let thy hand supply the pruning-knife;
And crop luxuriant stragglers, nor be loth
To strip the branches of their leafy growth:
But when the rooted vines, with steady hold,
Can clasp their elms, then, husbandmen, be bold
To lop the disobedient boughs, that stray'd
Beyond their ranks: let crooked steel invade
The lawless troops, which discipline disclaim,
And their superfluous growth with rigour tame.
Next, fenc'd with hedges and deep ditches round,
Exclude th' encroaching cattle from thy ground,
While yet the tender germs but just appear,
Unable to sustain th' uncertain year;
Whose leaves are not alone foul winter's prey,
But oft by summer suns are scorch'd away;
And, worse than both, become th' unworthy browse,
Of buffalos, salt goats, and hungry cows.
For not December's frost that burns the boughs,
Nor dog-days parching heat that splits the rocks,
Are half so harmful as the greedy flocks; [stocks.
Their venom'd bite, and scars indented on the
For this the malefactor goat was laid
On Bacchus' altar, and his forfeit paid.
At Athens thus old comedy began,
When round the streets the reeling actors ran;
In country villages, and crossing ways,
Contending for the prizes of their plays:
And glad, with Bacchus, on the grassy soil,
Jept o'er the skins of goats besmear'd with oil.
Thus Roman youth, deriv'd from ruin'd Troy,
In rude Saturnian rhymes express their joy:
With taunts, and laughter loud, their audience
please,

Deform'd with vizards, cut from barks of trees:
In jolly hymns they praise the god of wine,
Whose earthen images adorn the pine,
And there are hung on high, in honour of the vine;
A madness so devout the vineyard fills,
In hollow vallies and on rising hills;
On whate'er side he turns his honest face,
And dances in the wind, those fields are in his grace.
To Bacchus therefore let us tune our lays,
And in our mother-tongue resound his praise.
Thin cakes in chargers, and a guilty goat,
Dragg'd by the horns, be to his altars brought;
Whose offer'd entrails shall his crime reproach,
And drip their fatness from the hazle broach.
To dress thy vines new labour is requir'd,
Nor must the painful husbandman be tir'd:
For thrice, at least, in compass of a year,
Thy vineyard must employ the sturdy steer,
To turn the glebe; besides thy daily pain
To break the clods, and make the surface plain:
'T' unload the branches, or the leaves to thin,
That suck the vital moisture of the vine.
Thus in a circle runs the peasant's pain,
And the year rolls within itself again.

Ev'n in the lowest months, when storms have shed
From vines the hairy honours of their head,
Not then the drudging hind his labour ends,
But to the coming year his care extends :
Ev'n then the naked vine he persecutes ;
His pruning-knife at once reforms and cuts.
Be first to dig the ground, be first to burn
The branches lopt, and first the props return
Into thy house, that bore the burden'd vines;
But last to reap the vintage of thy wines.
Twice in the year luxuriant leaves o'ershade
Th' encumber'd vine; rough brambles twice invade;

:

Hard labour both! commend the large excess
Of spacious vineyards; cultivate the less.
Besides, in woods the shrubs of prickly thorn,
Sallows and reeds, on banks of rivers born,
Remain to cut f. vineyards useful found,
To stay thy vines, and fence thy fruitful ground.
Nor when thy tender trees at length are bound;
When peaceful vines from pruning-hooks are free,
When husbands have survey'd the last degree,
And utmost files of plants, and order'd every tree;
Ev'n when they sing at ease in full content,
Insulting o'er the toils they underwent ;
Yet still they find a future task remain :
To turn the soil, and break the clods again;
And after all, their joys are unsincere,

While falling rains on ripening grapes they fear.
Quite opposite to these are olives found,
No dressing they require, and dread no wound;
No rakes nor harrows need, but fix'd below,
Rejoice in open air, and unconcern'dly grow.
The soil itself due nourishment supplies:
Plough but the furrows, and the fruits arise;
Content with small endeavours till they spring.
Soft peace they figure, and sweet plenty bring:
Then olives plant, and hymns to Pallas sing.
Thus apple-trees, whose trunks are strong to bear
Their spreading boughs, exert themselves in air;
Want no supply, but stand secure alone,
Not trusting foreign forces, but their own;
Till with the ruddy freight the bending branches

groan.

Thus trees of Nature, and each common bush, Encultivated thrive, and with red berries blush; Vile shrubs are shorn for browse: the towering

height

Of unctuous trees are torches for the night.
And shall we doubt (indulging easy sloth)
To sow, to set, and to reform their growth?
To leave the lofty plants; the lowly kind
Are for the shepherd or the sheep design'd.
Eva humble broom and osiers have their use,
And shade for sheep, and food for flocks, produce;
Hedges for corn, and honey for the bees:
Besides the pleasing prospect of the trees.
How goodly looks Cytorus, ever green
With boxen groves! with what delight are seen
Narycian woods of pitch, whose gloomy shade
Seems for retreat of heavenly Muses made!
But much more pleasing are those fields to see,
That need not ploughs, nor human industry.
Ev'n old Caucasean rocks with trees are spread,
And wear green forests on their hilly head.
Though bending from the blast of eastern storms,
Though shent their leaves, and shatter'd are their

Now balance with these gifts the fumy joys
Of wine, attended with eternal noise.
Wine urg'd to lawless lust the Centaurs' train,
Through wine they quarrel'd, and through wine
were slain.

O happy, if he knew his happy state!
The swain, who, free from business and debate,
Receives his easy food from Nature's hand,
And just returns of cultivated land!
No palace, with a lofty gate, he wants,
T" admit the tides of early visitants,
With eager eyes devouring, as they pass,
The breathing figures of Corinthian brass.
No statues threaten from high pedestals;
No Persian arras hides his homely walls,
With antic vests; which, through their shady fold,
Betray the streaks of ill-dissembled gold.
He boasts no wool, whose native white is dy'd
With purple poison of Assyriau pride.
No costly drugs of Araby defile

With foreign scents the sweetness of his oil.
But easy quiet, a secure retreat,

A harmless life that knows not how to cheat,
With homebred plenty the rich owner bless,
And rural pleasures crown his happiness.
Unvex'd with quarrels, undisturb'd with noise,
The country king his peaceful realm enjoys :
Cool grots, and living lakes, the flowery pride
Of meads, and streams that through the valley
And shady groves that casy sleep invite, [glide,
And after toilsome days a soft repose at night.
Wild beasts of nature in his woods abound;
And youth, of labour patient, plough the ground,
Inur'd to hardship, and to homely fare,
Nor venerable age is wanting there,
In great examples to the youthful train ;
Nor are the gods ador'd with rites profane.
From hence Astrea took her flight, and here
The prints of her departing steps appear.

Ye sacred Muses, with whose beauty fir'd,
My soul is ravish'd, and iny brain inspir'd;
Whose priest I am, whose holy fillets wear,
Would you your poet's first petition hear:
Give me the ways of wandering stars to know:
The depths of Heaven above, and Earth below.
Teach me the various labours of the Moon,
And whence proceed th' eclipses of the Sun.
Why flowing tides prevail upon the main,
And in what dark recess they shrink again,
What shakes the solid earth, what cause delays
The summer nights, and shortens winter days.
But if my heavy blood restrain the flight,
Of my free soul, aspiring to the height
Of Nature and unclouded fields of light;
My next desire is, void of care and strife,
To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life:
A country cottage near a crystal flood,
A winding valley, and a lofty wood.
Some god conduct me to the sacred shades,
Where bacchanals are sung by Spartan maids,
Or lift me high to Hemus' hilly crown;
Or in the plains of Tempe lay rae down:
Or lead me to some solitary place,
And cover my retreat from human race.

Happy the man, who, studying Nature's laws, Through known effects can trace the secret cause. His mind possessing in a quiet state, Fearless of Fortune, and resign'd to Fate. And happy too is he, who decks the bowers Of sylvaus, and adores the rural powers:

Whose mind, unmov'd, the bribes of courts can see;
Their glittering baits and purple slavery.
Nor hopes the people's praise, nor fears their frown,
Nor when contending kindred tear the crown,
Will set up one, or pull another down.

Without concern he hears, but hears from far,
Of tumults and descents, and distant war:
Nor with a superstitious fear is aw'd,
For what befals at home, or what abroad.
Nor envies he the rich their heapy store,
Nor his own peace disturbs, with pity for the poor.
He feeds on fruits, which, of their own accord,
The willing ground and laden trees afford.
From his lov'd home no lucre him can draw;
The senate's mad decrees he never saw;
Nor heard, at bawling bars, corrupted law.
Some to the seas and some to camps resort,
And some with impudence invade the court.
In foreign countries others seek renown;
With wars and taxes others waste their own,
And houses burn, and household gods deface,
To drink in bowls which glittering gems enchase:
To loll on couches, rich with Cytron steds,
And lay their guilty limbs on Tyrian beds,
This wretch in earth intombs his golden ore,
Hovering and brooding on his bury'd store.
Some patriot fools to popular praise aspire
Of public speeches, which worse fools admire;
While from both benches, with redoubled sounds,
Th' applause of lords and commoners abounds.
Some through ambition, or through thirst of gold,
Have slain their brothers, or their country sold;
And leaving their sweet homes, in exile run
To lands that lie beneath another sun

The peasant, innocent of all these ills,
With crooked ploughs the fertile fallows tills;
And the round year with daily labour fills.
And hence the country-markets are supply'd:
Enough remains for household charge beside :
His wife and tender children to sustain,
And gratefully to feed his dumb deserving train.
Nor cease his labours, till the yellow field
A full return of bearded harvest yield:
A crop so plenteous as the land to load,
O'ercome the crowded barns, and lodge on ricks
abroad.

Thus every several season is employ'd:
Some spent in toil, and some in ease enjoy'd.
The yeaning ewes prevent the springing year;
The laded boughs their fruits in autumn bear:
"Tis then the vine her liquid harvest yields,
Bak'd in the sunshine of ascending fields.
The winter comes, and then the falling mast
For greedy swine provides a full repast.
Then olives, ground in mills, their fatness boast,
And winter fruits are mellow'd by the frost.
His cares are eas'd with intervals of bliss;
His little children climbing for a kiss,
Welcome their father's late return at night;
His faithful bed is crown'd with chaste delight.
His kine, with swelling udders, ready stand,
And, lowing for the pail, invite the milker's hand.
His wanton kids, with budding horns prepar'd,
Fight harmless battles in his homely yard:
Himself in rustic pomp, on holidays,
To rural powers a just oblation pays;
And on the green his careless limbs displays.
The hearth is in the midst; the herdsmen, round
The cheerful fire, provoke his health in goblets
crown'd.

He calls on Bacchus, and propounds the prize;
The groom his fellow-groom at buts defies;
And bends his bows, and levels with his eyes,
Or, stript for wrestling, smears his limbs with oil,
And watches with a trip his foe to foil.
Such was the life the frugal Sabínes led;
So Remus and his brother god were bred:
From whom th' austere Etrurian virtue rose,
And this rude life our homely fathers chose.
Old Rome from such a race deriv'd her birth,
(The seat of empire, and the conquer'd Earth ;)
Which now on seven high hills triumphant reigns,
And in that compass all the world contains.
Ere Saturn's rebel son usurp'd the skies,
When beasts were only slain for sacrifice;
While peaceful Crete enjoy'd her ancient lord;
Ere sounding hammers forg'd th' inhuman sword;
Ere hollow drums were beat, before the breath
Of brazen trumpets rung the peals of death;
The good old god his hunger did assuage
With roots and herbs, and gave the golden age;
But, overlabour'd with so long a course,
'Tis time to set at ease the smoking horse.

THE THIRD BOOK OF

THE GEORGICS.

THE ARGUMENT.

THIS book begins with the invocation of some rural deities, and a compliment to Augustus: after which Virgil directs himself to Mæcenas, and enters on his subject. He lays down rules for the breeding and management of horses, oxen, sheep, goats, and dogs; and interweaves several pleasant descriptions of a chariot-race, of the battle of the bulls, of the force of love, and of the Scythian winter. In the latter part of the book he relates the diseases incident to cattle; and ends with the description of a fatal murrain that formerly raged among the Alps.

Tuy fields, propitious Pales, I rehearse;
And sing thy pastures in no vulgar verse,
Amphrysian shepherd; the Lycæan woods;
Arcadia's flowery plains, and pleasing floods.

All other themes that careless minds invite,
Are worn with use, unworthy me to write.
Busiris' altars, and the dire decrees
Of hard Eurystheus, every reader sees:
Hylas the boy, Latona's erring isle,
And Pelops' ivory shoulder, and his toil
For fair Hippodame, with all the rest
Of Grecian tales, by poets are exprest;
New ways I must attempt, my groveling name
To raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame.

I, first of Romans, shall in triumph come From conquer'd Greece, and bring her trophies

home:

With foreign spoils adorn my native place;
And with Idume's palins my Mantua grace.
Of Parian stone a temple will I raise,
Where the slow Mincius thro' the valley strays;
Where cooling streams invite the flocks to drink;
And reeds defend the winding water's brink.

In vain he burns like hasty stubble fires;
And in himself his former self requires.

His age and courage weigh: nor those alone,
But note his father's virtues and his own;
Observe, if he disdains to yield the prize;
Of loss impatient, proud of victories.

Hast thou beheld, when from the goal they start,
The youthful charioteers with heaving heart
Rush to the race; and, panting, scarcely bear
Th' extremes of fev'rish hope, and chilling fear;
Stoop to the reins, and lash with all their force;
The flying chariot kindles in the course:
And now a-low, and now aloft they fly,

As borne through air, and seem to touch the sky.
No stop, no stay, but clouds of sand arise,
Spurn'd and cast backward on the follower's eyes.
The hindmost blows the foam upon the first;
Such is the love of praise, an honourable thirst.
Bold Ericthonius was the first, who join'd
Four horses for the rapid race design'd;
And o'er the dusty wheels presiding sate;
The Lapitha to chariots add the state

Of bits and bridles; taught the steed to bound;
To run the ring, and trace the mazy round.
To stop, to fly, the rules of war to know:
T'obey the rider, and to dare the foe.

To choose a youthful steed, with courage fir'd;
To breed him, break him, back him, are requir'd
Experienc'd masters, and in sundry ways:
Their labours equal, and alike their praise.
But once again the batter'd horse beware,
The weak old stallion will deceive thy care.
Though famous in his youth for force and speed,
Or was of Argos or Epirian breed,

[ceed.

[time

Or did from Neptune's race, or from himself pro-
These things premis'd, when now the nuptial
Approaches for the stately steed to climb;
With food enable him to make his court;
Distend his chine, and pamper him for sport.
Feed him with herbs, whatever thou canst find,
Of generous warmth, and of salacious kind.
Then water him, and (drinking what he can)
Encourage him to thirst again, with bran.
Instructed thus, produce him to the fair:
And join in wedlock to the longing mare.
For, if the sire be faint, or out of case,
He will be copied in his famish'd race:
And sink beneath the pleasing task assign'd:
(For all's too little for the craving kind.)

As for the females, with industious care
Take down their mettle, keep them lean and bare;
When conscious of their past delight, and keen
To take the leap, and prove the sport again;
With scanty measure then supply their food;
And, when athirst, restrain them from the flood;
Their bodies harass, sink them when they run;
And fry their melting marrow in the Sun.
Starve them, when barns beneath their burthen

groan;

And winnow'd chaff by western winds is blown;
For fear the rankness of the swelling womb
Should scant the passage, and confine the room.
Lest the fat furrows should the sense destroy
Of genial lust, and dull the seat of joy.
But let them suck the seed with greedy force,
And close involve the vigour of the horse.

The male has done; thy care must now proceed
To teeming females, and the promis'd breed.
First let them run at large, and never know
The taming yoke, or draw the crooked plough.

Let them not leap the ditch, or swim the flood,
Or lumber o'er the meads, or cross the wood:
But range the forest, by the silver side
Of some cool stream, where Nature shall provide
Green grass, and fattening clover, for their fare,
And mossy caverns for their noontide lare:
With rocks above to shield the sharp nocturnal air.
About th' Alburnian groves, with holly green,
Of winged insects mighty swarms are seen:
This flying plague (to mark its quality)
Estros the Grecians call: asylus, we:

A fierce loud buzzing breeze; their stings draw blood,
And drive the cattle gadding through the wood.
Seiz'd with unusual pains, they loudly cry;
Tanagrus hastens thence, and leaves his channel dry.
This curse the jealous Juno did invent,
And first employ'd for lo's punishment.
To shun this ill, the cunning leach ordains
In summer's sultry heats (for then it reigns)
To feed the females, ere the Sun arise,
Or late at night, when stars adorn the skies.
When she has calv'd, then set the dam aside;
And for the tender progeny provide.
Distinguish all betimes, with branding fire;
To note the tribe, the lineage, and the sire.
Whom to reserve for husband of the herd,
Or who shall be to sacrifice preferr'd;
Or whom thou shalt to turn thy glebe allow;
To smooth the furrows, and sustain the plough:
The rest, for whom no lot is yet decreed,
May run in pastures, and at pleasure feed.
The calf, by nature and by genius made
To turn the glebe, breed to the rural trade;
Set him betimes to school, and let him be
Instructed there in rules of husbandry:
While yet his youth is flexible and green,
Nor bad examples of the world has seen.
Farly begin the stubborn child to break;
For his soft neck a supple collar make
Of bending osiers; and (with time and care
Inur'd that easy servitude to bear)

Thy flattering method on the youth pursue:
Join'd with his schoolfellows by two and two,
Persuade them first to lead an empty wheel,
That scarce the dust can raise, or they can feel:
In length of time produce the labouring yoke
And shining shares, that make the furrow smoke.
Fre the licentious youth be thus restrain'd,
Or moral precepts on their minds have gain'd;
Their wanton appetites not only feed
With delicates of leaves, and marshy weed,
But with thy sickle reap the rankest land :
And minister the blade with bounteous hand.
Nor be with harmful parsimony won
To follow what our homely sires have done :
Who fill'd the pail with beastings of the cow;
But all her udder to the calf allow.

If to the warlike steed thy studies bend,
Or for the prize in chariots to contend;
Near Pisa's flood the rapid wheels to guide,
Or in Olympian groves aloft to ride,
The generous labours of the courser, first
Must be with sight of arms and sound of trumpets
nurs'd:

Inur'd the groaning axletree to bear;
And let him clashing whips in stables hear.
Sooth him with praise, and make him understand
The loud applauses of his master's hand:
This from his weaning let him well be taught;
And then betimes in a soft snaffle wrought