Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/338

170 An Hostry now for Waggons; which before Tall Ships of burthen, on its Bosom bore. The brazen Cauldrons, with the Frost are flaw'd; The Garment, stiff with Ice, at Hearths is thaw'd. With Axes first they cleave the Wine, and thence By weight, the solid portions they dispence. From Locks uncomb'd, and from the frozen Beard, Long Isicles depend, and crackling Sounds are heard. Mean time perpetual Sleet, and driving Snow, Obscure the Skies, and hang on Herds below. The starving Cattle perish in their Stalls, Huge Oxen stand enclos'd in wint'ry Walls Of Snow congeal'd; whole Herds are bury'd there Of mighty Stags, and scarce their Horns appear. The dext'rous Huntsman wounds not these afar, With Shafts, or Darts, or makes a distant War With Dogs; or pitches Toyls to stop their Flight: But close engages in unequal Fight. And while they strive in vain to make their way Through hills of Snow, and pitifully bray; Assaults with dint of Sword, or pointed Spears, And homeward, on his Back, the joyful burthen bears. The Men to subterranean Caves retire; Secure from Cold; and crowd the chearful Fire: With Trunks of Elms and Oaks, the Hearth they load, Nor tempt th' inclemency of Heav'n abroad. Their jovial Nights, in frollicks and in play They pass, to drive the tedious Hours away.