Page:An Essay on Virgil's Æneid.djvu/40

36 Lead forth, in Colonies, their buzzing Race, Or work the liquid Sweets, and thicken to a Mass. The busy Nation flies from Flow’r to Flow’r, And hoards, in curious Cells, the golden Store; A chosen Troop before the Gate attends, Heaves off the Burdens, and relieves their Friends; Warm at the fragrant Work, in Bands, they drive The Drone, a lazy Robber, from the Hive. The Prince surveys the lofty Tow’rs, and cries, Blest, blest are you, whose Walls already rise: Then, strange to tell, he mingled with the Crowds, And past, unseen, involv’d in mantling Clouds.


 * the Town, a stately Grove display’d

A cooling Shelter, and delightful Shade. Here, tost by Winds and Waves, the found A Courser’s Head, within the sacred Ground; An Omen sent by, to declare A fruitful Soil, and Race renown’d in War. A