Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/371

Geor. IV. Or secret Moaths are there in Silence fed; Or Spiders in the Vault, their snary Webs have spred. The more oppress'd by Foes, or Famine pin'd; The more increase thy Care to save the sinking Kind. With Greens and Flow'rs recruit their empty Hives, And seek fresh Forrage to sustain their Lives. But since they share with Man one common Fate, In Health and Sickness, and in Turns of State; Observe the Symptoms when they fall away, And languish with insensible Decay. They change their Hue, with hagger'd Eyes they stare, Lean are their Looks, and shagged is their Hair: And Crowds of dead, that never must return To their lov'd Hives, in decent Pomp are born: Their Friends attend the Herse, the next Relations Mourn. The sick, for Air before the Portal gasp, Their feeble Legs within each other clasp. Or idle in their empty Hives remain, Benum'd with Cold, and listless of their Gain. Soft Whispers then, and broken Sounds are heard, As when the Woods by gentle Winds are stir'd. Such stifled noise as the close Furnace hides, Or dying Murmurs of departing Tides. This when thou seest, Galbanean Odours use, And Honey in the sickly Hive infuse. Thro' reeden Pipes convey the Golden Flood, T'invite the People to their wonted Food. Rh