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Rh Roman plough seems to have been a cumbrous wooden instrument, which would break the heart alike of man and horse in these days; and its very elaborate description, in spite of the polished language of the poet, would shock one of our modern implement-manufacturers. He gives a few hints as to lucky and unlucky days, and fuller directions for prognosticating the weather from the various signs to be observed in the sky, and in the behaviour of the animal world; and he closes this first division of his poem, as he began it, with an apostrophe to Cæsar as the hope of Rome and Italy. It is one of the finest passages in the Georgics, and will bear translation as well as most. Dryden's version is spirited enough, and though diffuse, presents the sense fairly to an English ear:—

Ye home-born deities, of mortal birth!

Thou, father Romulus, and mother Earth,

Goddess unmoved! whose guardian arms extend

O'er Tuscan Tiber's course, and Roman towers defend;

With youthful Cæsar your joint powers engage,

Nor hinder him to save the sinking age.

O! let the blood already spilt atone

For the past crimes of curst Laomedon!

Heaven wants thee there; and long the gods, we know,

Have grudged thee, Cæsar, to the world below;

Where fraud and rapine right and wrong confound;

Where impious arms from every part resound,

And monstrous crimes in every shape are crowned.

The peaceful peasant to the wars is prest;

The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest:

The plain no pasture to the flock affords,

The crooked scythes are straightened into swords: