Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/116

 104 Or at their hive's throng'd door the feeble train

Cling, by their feet suspended; or remain

Listless and languid in their chambers pent,

With cold all-torpid, and with famine spent.

Then deep and low a drawling hum runs round;

As in close furnace rustling fires resound,

As Auster murmurs thro' the trembling trees,

As with the refluent tides whiz the vext seas.

But you with flamy gums perfume the place,

Nor fail by arts to rouse the fainting race,

Lur'd from their stands on wonted sweets to feed,

By honey, dripping thro' canals of reed:

Of galls the pounded savour proves of use,

Thyme too, dry'd roses, wine's concocted juice;

With these the fetid centauries combine,

And mellow'd clusters of the Psythian vine.

Beside, a flow'r there is, in pasture-ground,

Amellus call'd; the plant with ease is found;

For from one root arising you behold

Unnumber'd stems; itself shines bright with gold;

The leaves, around thick-sprouting, to the view

Give the dark violet's empurpled hue.

With wreaths of this the altars oft are hung:

Chew'd in the mouth it roughens on the tongue: By