Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/106

 94 All Ether brighten'd, issuing from their home

Strait with wild wing to woods and lawns they roam;

O'er purple flow'rets hang the pilf'ring throng,

And sip the runnels, as they sweep along.

Hence, thrilling with fine feelings, they impart

Food to their young: hence mould new wax with art,

And to a mass tenacious form the sweets.

Observe, when, swarming from their secret seats,

Floating in liquid air thick hosts you find,

A murky cloud slow-moving with the wind,

Still to soft waters and the leafy bow'r

They tend; here shed an aromatic show'r,

Bruis'd baum and vulgar honey-wort let fall,

And from the beaten cymbals tinklings call:

Lur'd by the scents they soon will settle there,

And, as they use, to their close cells repair.

But should they march to fight, (with loud alarms

For Discord rouses oft two Chiefs to arms)

Long, ere they move, the mob their minds betray,

Their hearts thick-throbbing for the promis'd fray:

Quick'ning the slow a brazen din runs round,

And a voice mimics the trump's broken sound.

Hurrying they throng, fast-glance their glist'ring wings,

And with their beaks new-edge their pointed stings, Fit