Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/67

 Book II. Some rush to battle, vex with oars the deep,

Or in the courts of Kings insidious creep;

For cups of gem, and quilts of Tyrian die,

Others remorseless loose each public tie:

On hoarded treasures these ecstatic gaze,

Those eye the Rostra, stupid with amaze:

This for the theatre's applauding roar

Sighs: with the blood of brothers sprinkled o'er

From their dear homes to exile others run,

And seek new seats beneath a distant sun.

The busy husbandman has turn'd the soil

With his bent ploughshare: hence his annual toil;

His country, children profit by his pains;

Hence he his herds and useful steers maintains.

No pause he knows: or teems the bounteous year

With fruits, or cattle, or the bearded ear:

The plenteous produce loads the furrow'd land;

The granaries burst: cold winter is at hand;

The pounding press now Sicyon's berries feel;

Glad to their sties the swine full acorn'd reel.

The woods give arbutes; autumn-fruits abound,

And mild grapes ripen on high sunny ground.

Their fathers' neck the fondling train embrace:

And Virtue's self protects the blameless race. With