Virgil

“ Tho' here the Marshy Grounds approach your Fields,
And there the Soil a stony Harvest yields.
Your teeming Ewes shall no strange Meadows try,
Nor fear a Rott from tainted Company.70
Behold yon bord'ring Fence of Sallow Trees
Is fraught with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs are fraught with Bees:
The buisie Bees with a soft murm'ring Strain
Invite to gentle sleep the lab'ring Swain.
While from the Neighb'ring Rock, with rural Songs,75
The Pruner's Voice the pleasing Dream prolongs;
Stock-Doves and Turtles tell their Am'rous pain,
And from the lofty Elms of Love complain. ”

“ On these, on these, our happy Fields bestow?
Good Heav'n, what dire Effects from Civil Discord flow!
Now let me graff my Pears, and prune the Vine;100
The Fruit is theirs, the Labour only mine.
Farewel my Pastures, my Paternal Stock,
My fruitful Fields, and my more fruitful Flock! ”

“ Forc'd from our pleasing Fields and Native Home:
While stretch'd at Ease you sing your happy Loves:5
And Amarillis fills the shady Groves.
TITYRUS.
These blessings, Friend, a Deity bestow'd:
For never can I deem him less than God.
The tender Firstlings of my Woolly breed
Shall on his holy Altar often bleed.10
He gave my Kine to graze the Flow'ry Plain:
And to my Pipe renew'd the Rural Strain.
MELIBOEUS.
I envy not your Fortune, but admire,
That while the raging Sword and wastful Fire
Destroy the wretched Neighbourhood around,15
No Hostile Arms approach your happy ground. ”