Page:Rape of Prosperine - Claudian (1854).djvu/81



Thrice blest the man whose ploughshare cleaves the plain Of fertile Egypt: he nor cloud nor rain Invokes, nor northern blasts that 'coldly blow, Nor hails the light of Iris' humid bow. The favour'd region has no need of these; It scorns the showers, it recks not of the breeze; Content to see perpetual plenty smile From its own waters, its redundant Nile.
 * Inured to heats of Cancer's burning zone,

He swiftly rushes from a source unknown; Long vainly sought, and undiscovered still, Which none have seen a fount, or issuing rill. No witness stood by that mysterious birth, Where other heavens o'er-arch another earth; Whence forth he springs his wand'ring course to run, Where Æthiop kingdoms blacken in the sun; O'er the parch'd lands his cooling dews bestows, And slakes the thirst of nations as he flows.