Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/29

 Book I. Cæus, Japetus, then sprang to birth,

And fell Typhæus, the dire brood of Earth;

And Giant-brethren, who with frenzy fir'd

By force to rend heav'n's battlements conspir'd:

On Pelion thrice vast Ossa they essay'd

To heave; on Ossa next with all his shade

To roll Olympus: thrice th' eternal Sire

Split the proud structures with his balls of fire.

Of prosp'rous days the sev'nteenth he prefers,

Who plants his vineyard, tames reluctant steers,

And weaves the woof: the ninth for men in speed

Is best, but adverse to the knave in need.

For the cool night some tasks are fittest found,

Or when the Morn with dew first gems the ground.

At night the stubble, the dry meadows mow;

These hours a moisture fail not to bestow.

One, to point torches with a knife, all night

Wakes by a winter-fire's expiring light;

Mean while his wife to sooth his labour sings,

As thro' the loom the rattling shoot she flings,

Or of sweet must boils off the wat'ry part,

And scums the kettle's wavy foam with art.

At noon red Ceres sinks upon the plain;

At noon the threshers beat the roasted grain. While