Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/93

 Book III. Leaps on dry land, by thirst, and heat impel'd,

And chases, and burns, and maddens round the field.

May I ne'er then by waving wood be seen,

Lolling at ease, or slumb'ring on the green,

What time, his old slough cast, he shines again

In glossy youth, and glides along the plain,

And, leaving in his den his eggs or young,

Rears to the Sun his crest, and darts his forky tongue.

Hear, by what signs diseases are foretold,

And whence they rise: the scab infests the fold,

When the soak'd pores have long imbib'd chill show'rs,

And felt of brumal frosts the piercing pow'rs;

Or unregarded sweat to hides fresh-shorn

Has stuck, and prickly briers the skin have torn.

For this in cleansing streams the Masters lave

Their fleecy flocks: plung'd in the flashing wave

The ram along the current of the tide

Floats with wet curls: for this their new clipt-hide

Cautious they smear with oil's astringent lees,

Temper'd with living sulphur; and to these

Add litharge, unctuous wax, black tar, and squil,

Rank hellebore, and pitch from Ida's hill.

But with such instant ease no cure is crown'd,

As if with steel the sore's ripe top you wound: While