Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/256

108 He sharpens Torches in the glim'ring Room, She shoots the flying Shuttle through the Loom: Or boils in Kettles Must of Wine, and skins 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 thrash it out, and winnow it by Day. Plough naked, Swain, and naked sow the Land, For lazy Winter nums 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 Saylors, when escap'd from stormy Seas, First crown their Vessels, then indulge their Ease. Yet that's the proper Time to thrash the Wood For Mast of Oak, your Fathers homely Food. To gather Laurel-berries, and the Spoil Of bloody Myrtles, and to press your Oyl. For stalking Cranes to set the guileful Snare, T' inclose the Stags in Toyls, and Hunt the Hare. With Balearick Slings, or Gnossian Bow, To persecute from far the flying Doe. Then, when the Fleecy Skies new cloath the Wood, And cakes of rustling Ice come rolling down the Flood.