Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/240

96 Pity the Poet's and the Ploughman's Cares, Int'rest thy Greatness in our mean Affairs, And use thy self betimes to hear our Pray'rs. While yet the Spring is young, while Earth unbinds Her frozen Bosom to the Western Winds; While Mountain Snows dissolve against the Sun, And Streams, yet new, from Precipices run. Ev'n in this early Dawning of the Year, Produce the Plough, and yoke the sturdy Steer, And goad him till he groans beneath his Toil, Till the bright Share is bury'd in the Soil. That Crop rewards the greedy Peasant's Pains, Which twice the Sun, and twice the Cold sustains, And bursts the crowded Barns, with more than promis'd Gains. But e'er we stir the yet unbroken Ground, The various Course of Seasons must be found; The Weather, and the setting of the Winds, The Culture suiting to the sev'ral Kinds Of Seeds and Plants; and what will thrive and rise, And what the Genius of the Soil denies. This Ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits: That other loads the Trees with happy Fruits. A fourth with Grass, unbidden, decks the Ground: Thus Tmolus is with yellow Saffron crown'd: India, black Ebon and white Ivory bears: And soft Idume weeps her od'rous Tears. Thus Pontus sends her Beaver Stones from far; And naked Spanyards temper Steel for War. Rh