Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/262

112 And oft before tempest'ous Winds arise, The seeming Stars fall headlong from the Skies; And, shooting through the darkness, guild the Night With sweeping Glories, and long trails of Light: And Chaff with eddy Winds is whirl'd around, And dancing Leaves are lifted from the Ground; And floating Feathers on the Waters play. But when the winged Thunder takes his way From the cold North, and East and West ingage, And at their Frontiers meet with equal rage, The Clouds are crush'd, a glut of gather'd Rain The hollow Ditches fills, and floats the Plain, And Sailors furl their dropping Sheets amain. Wet weather seldom hurts the most unwise, So plain the Signs, such Prophets are the Skies: The wary Crane foresees it first, and sails Above the Storm, and leaves the lowly Vales: The Cow looks up, and from afar can find The change of Heav'n, and snuffs it in the Wind. The Swallow skims the River's watry Face, The Frogs renew the Croaks of their loquacious Race. The careful Ant her secret Cell forsakes, And drags her Egs along the narrow Tracks. At either Horn the Rainbow drinks the Flood, Huge Flocks of rising Rooks forsake their Food, And, crying, seek the Shelter of the Wood. Besides, the sev'ral sorts of watry Fowls, That swim the Seas, or haunt the standing Pools: Rh