Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/64

 52 And the fair fields how grateful to behold,

Where no share turns, no harrow marks the mould!

The barren woods of Caucasus, that bear

The rage of Eurus, rent, and whirl'd thro' air,

For dwellings cedars, cypresses assign,

And for the vessel lend the lofty pine:

Hence spokes for wheels are fashioned by the swains,

Bent keels for ships, and rollers for the wains.

With leaves are elms, with twigs the willow stor'd;

Cornels fit instruments of war afford;

Stout spears the myrtle: yews their boughs bestow

To form the flexure of th' Ityrean bow:

Nor the box, shaven by the turner's wheel,

Nor the smooth limes resist the shaping steel.

Launch'd on the Po the foamy flood along

Floats the light alder: in swarms clust'ring throng

To hollow barks and rotten oaks the bees:

What gifts has Bacchus to compare with these?

Bacchus to violence has led the way:

Rhætus and Pholus perish'd in the fray,

Fierce Centaurs both: Hylæus pour'd his soul,

As at the Lapithæ he aim'd a bowl.

Too happy ye, whom rural tasks employ,

Did ye the knowledge of your bliss enjoy! Far