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Hide me some God, where Hamus' vales extend,

And boundless shade and solitude defend!

How blest the sage! whose soul can pierce each cause Of changeful Nature, and her wondrous laws:

Who tramples fear beneath his foot, and braves
Fate, and stern death, and hell's resounding waves.
Blest too, who knows each God that guards the swain,
Pan, old Sylvanus, and the Dryad train.

Not the proud fasces, nor the pomp of kings,
Discord that bathes in kindred blood her wings;
Not arming Istrians that on Dacia call,

Triumphant Rome, and kingdoms doom'd to fall,
Envy's wan gaze, or pity's bleeding tear,
Disturb the tenour of his calm career.

From fruitful orchards and spontaneous fields
He culls the wealth that willing Nature yields,
Far from the tumult of the maddening bar,
And iron justice, and forensic war.

Some vex with restless oar wild seas unknown,
Some rush on death, or cringe around the throne;
Stern warriors here beneath their footsteps tread
The realm that rear'd them, and the hearth that fed,
To quaff from gems, and lull to transient rest
The wound that bleeds beneath the Tyrian vest.
These brood with sleepless gaze o'er buried gold,
The rostrum these with raptur'd trance behold,
Or wonder when repeated plaudits raise
"Mid peopled theatres the shout of praise :

These with grim joy, by civil discord led,

And stain'd in battles where a brother bled,

From their sweet household hearth in exile roam,

And seek beneath new suns a foreign home..
The peasant yearly ploughs his native soil;
The lands that blest his fathers bound his toil,
Sustain his herd, his country's wealth increase,
And see his children's children sport in peace.
Each change of seasons leads new plenty round;
Now lambs, and kids along the meadow bound,
Now every furrow loads with corn the plain,
Fruits bend the bough, and garners burst with grain ;,
Or where with purple hues the upland glows,
Autumnal suns on mellowing grapes repose.

His swine return at winter's evening hours,
Gorg'd with the mast that every forest showers :

For him the arbute reddens on the wood,

And mills press forth the olive's gushing flood;

Chaste love his household guards, and round his knees
Fond infants climb the foremost kiss to seize;
Kine from their gushing udders nectar shed,
And wanton kids high toss their butting head..
He too, at times, where flames the rustic shrine,
And, rang'd around, his gay compeers recline,
In grateful leisure on some festive day

Stretch'd on the turf delights his limbs to lay,
To loose from care his disencumber'd soul,
And hail thee, Bacchus ! o'er the circling bowl:

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Or on the elm the javelin's mark suspend,
Where for the prize his hardy hinds contend,
Bare their huge bodies, and, untaught to yield,
To wrestling toils provoke the challeng'd field.
Such was the life that ancient Sabines chose ;
Thus Rome's twin founders, thus Etruria rose :
Thus Rome herself, o'er all on earth renown'd,
Rome, whose seven hills her towery walls surro und;
Such, ere Dictaan Jove's new sceptre reign'd,
And slaughter'd bulls the unhallow'd banquet stain❜d,
Such was the life on earth that Saturn knew,
Ere mortals trembled as the trumpet blew,
Or started as the anvil rung afar,

When clattering hammers shap'd the sword of war.
But now, at length o'erpast the boundless plain,
Freed from the car the smoking steeds unrein.

GEORGICS.

BOOK III.

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