The works of Publius Virgilius Maro translated by John Ogilby.

THE FIRST BOOK OF Virgil's GEORGICKS.

THE ARGUMENT.

What times are best to sow, what natures are Of differing grounds; what industrie and care. What hurts the corne, the Plowmans severall Rules: Who musters up innumerable tooles. Who first the world with th' art of tillage blest. Summer and winter Swaines must take no rest. Plowmen must learn the stars; which frost and snow, Fair and fowle weather, rain and winds foreshew, Clashing of Nobles, tumults, and of late Popular fury, and great Caesars fate.

WHat makes rich grounds (Mecaenas:) in what signs 'Tis best to plow, and marrie elms with vines: What care of sheep; with Cattel what agrees: And how much skill belongs to frugall bees; Now I shall sing. You glorious Lights, who bear In your swift motion round the sliding year:

Bacchus, blest Ceres, if from you we gain For poor Chaonian acorns, golden graine; And wine t' inrich our watery cups: and you Fauns, who to Swains your bounty still allow: Together Fauns, and virgin Dryades come; Your gifts I sing: and Neptune, thou to whom Earth trident-struck, brought forth a generous steed: And woods protector, thou, whose snowie breed Three hundred graze on Caeas fertile grounds, Pan, the flocks guardian, leaving native bounds And Lycian groves, if Maenalus thou prize, With Pallas come, who th' Olive did devise: And thou Inventor of the crooked Plow Silvanus, bearing a soft Cypres bough. All Gods our fields protect; and those who feed The tender grain, still cherishing our seed, And who from skies on corne, send plentious rain; Thou Caesar, whom what seat shall entertaine In Heaven's unknown: whether thou take the care Of Realms, and Cities, or the world declare Thee Lord of fruit, to whom the seasons bow, And with thy mothers myrtle wreath thy brow; Or rule vast waves, alone thy Deitie Sea-men adore, and farthest Thule obey: Or Thetys with the Ocean purchas'd thee: Or to slow moneths a new signe added be, Whom Libra, and Erigone may imbrace, Whilst burning Scorpio shrinks to give thee place: And doth his ampler part in heaven forsake. What ere thou'lt be (let not the Stygian Lake Accept thee Lord, nor have thou such desire: Although the Greeks Elyzium fields admire, Nor for her mother car d, sought Proserpine.) Grant a free course, and aid my bold design;

Pity the Ignorance of Swaines, with me, And to b•• invok'd with prayers accustom'd be.

When the warme spring dissolves the mountains snowes, And the fat soyle with West-winds softer growes, Then let my steers at plow to groan begin, And by the furrow my worne Coulter shine. The greedie Husbandman likes best that mold, Hath felt two summers, and two winters cold. That mans great harvest doth his Garners burst. But ere thou break the unknown fallow, first Observe the winds, and mark heavens various face, Old custome, and the nature of the place: What every soyle will bear, and what refuse: This corne, that vines, more kindly doth produce; Here, plants best thrive, and there rank herbage growes, Seest not how Safron Tmolus still bestowes? India sends Ivorie, sweet Sabea Gummes: From the nak'd Chalybs, steel; from Pontus comes The Bever stone, from Epire Mares for race; For nature hath impos'd on every place Eternall Laws, since first Deucalion hurl'd Stones to repair the populated world; Whence men a hard race, sprung. Therefore goe on, And thy rich soyl with the first warming sun Let thy strong Oxen turn, when Phoebus makes Long dayes, and humid clods with ardor bakes. If poor thy soyl, before Arcturus rise, To break a shallow furrow will suffice. Here lest the corn should harme from weeds receive, There, lest small moysture barren akers leave. And let thy furrow lie each year untill'd, And to grow hard with rest thy worne-out field:

Or where in season thou didst barely sow, And pleasant pulse, with dangling cods didst mow, Where brittle stalks of wofull Lupins stood, Or slender Veches like a whispering wood. The field, flax, otes, and sleepy Poppie, burns, But easie is the labour made by turns. Nor a drie soyle with rich marle spare to feed, And uncleans'd ashes on poor grounds to spread. So with chang'd seed, Swains rest give to the fields, And Land left fallow no less profit yields; From burning sterile plains oft plentie comes, And brittle stubble crackling fire consumes. Whether from this new force, and nourishment The Earth receives; or else all venome spent By fire: and forth superfluous moysture sweat: Or many dark hid breathings lax'd by heat, By which, fresh sap the springing corne sustaines, Or more condens'd it bindes the gaping veines. Lest soaking showrs, or Sols more potent beame, Or Boreas piercing cold should wither them; And much he helps his field, who barren mould Breaks, harrowes then; nor Ceres doth behold That Husband-man from the high heaven in vain, And who the gleab athwhart runs ore again, Turning his plow, and crossing breaks the soyle, Making the field obedient with his toyle. Swaines pray for winters faire, and summers wet; Winter dust, joyes the earth, and glads the wheat: Not Maesia then shall harvests boast like these, Nor Phrygian hils admire their own increase. What shall I say of those have sow'd their land? Then straight goes on, casts heaps of barren sand, And streams to's corne in flowing rivers turns: And when scorch'd fields with dying herbage burns,

From rising ground conducts a crystall lake; Which mongst smoth rocks doth gentle murmurs make, And bubling forth refresh the parched field. Or those lest too large ears the stalk should yield, The ranck corne, and soft stemme eat down again, When first it hides the earth; and those who draine, With thirstie sand the plashes in their ground, Most when in doubtfull moneths the floods abound, Whence slimie mud hath cover'd all the vale, Making the ditches a hot steam exhale. But yet (for all mens toyle and oxens paines, Skilfull in tillage) the Strymonian Cranes, Geese, and shade harme, or bitter Succorie. Nor was Jove pleas'd tillage should easie be: And first commands with art to plough the soyle, On mortall hearts imposing care, and toyle; Nor lets dull sloth benumb men where he reigns. Before Jove's time, no plowman tild the plaines, None mark'd out limits, or a meer set forth; But all in common: then the liberall earth Without compulsion brought each kinde of grain, He first black Serpents arm'd with deadly bane, Commands stern Wolves to prey, the Sea to swell, From leaves shakes honey, and did fire conceal: To wine then rivers gave a stricter bound, That severall arts by labour might be found, And men in furrows seek the grain that fell, And hidden fire from veins of flint compell. Then Alder-boats first swomme, then Mariners Gave names, and told the number of the stars: The Kids, the Pleiades, and the Northern Bear. Then birds they catch with Lime, and beasts in snare, And with their dogs, the mighty woods beset. This strikes broad rivers with his casting net;

At sea his humid lines another drawes: Then force of ir'n, and blades of grating sawes; (For first they wedges to soft wood did use) Then came strange arts, fierce labor all subdues. Inforc'd by bold Necessity, and Want, First, Ceres mortals taught the earth to plant: When mast, and acorns sacred groves suppli d, And Dodon's forrest nourishment denide. Then was more sweat for corne; lest mildews spoile The grain, and thistles over-run the soyle: The crop then failes, destructive weeds appear, Briers and burs suppress the golden ear: Then hapless Darnell, and wilde-oats command, Unless with rakes thou daily break thy land: Fright birds with noyse, and cut the shadie bowes Of thy dark ground, and call for rain with vowes. Thou shalt in vaine see others store increase, VVhen shaken okes thy hunger must appease.

The hardy Plowmans tooles we next must know; Which wanting, we can neither reap nor sow. A heavie plow of crooked oke; a share; And with flow wheeles th' Elusine mothers carre; Sledges and flailes, rakes, ponderous enough, Fine osier baskets, countrey housholdstuffe, Hurdles, and last, Jaccus mystick Van; All which, if th' art a carefull husband-man, Remember to provide, if the divne Glorie of tillage, thou intendest thine. Soone in the woods with mighty labour bow An Elme, and forme it to a crooked Plow. To this a Tceme beneath of eight foot cut; To th'double back two ears, and Dentals put: Of lofty Beech your Plowtaile: but the yoak, Let that be from the gentle Tyle tree tooke,

Which from behinde should the deep turnings guide, And oke with hanging in the chimney tride.

Here many ancient rules I could declare, Unlesse thou shun'st, and scorn'st so mean a care. With a great rowler first, thy Barne flore lay, Smooth'd with the hand, confirm'd with binding clay, Lest grass spring up, or it should dustie grow, Then many mischiefs chance; for oft below The little Mouse her store hath and abode: And the blinde Mole her bed; in holes the toade Is found; much vermine from the earth are borne, The Weezel plunders the great heap of corne, And the Ant fearing age and want to come. Observe when first the nut begins to bloome, Gracing the woods, bending the fragrant tree: If they exceed, such thy increase shall be, And with great heat a mighty harvest found; But if with swelling leaves the shades abound, Then thou shalt thrash a chassie stalk in vaine, I have seene many to anoynt their grain VVith Nyter first, then lees of oyse to spread, That husks deceitfull should have larger seed: Then with soft fire they swell the hasten'd graine, Seed long pick'd I have seen, and culd with pain, And yet degenerate; unless yearly we The largest choose. All things by destiny So hasten to grow worse and backward goes, As one against the stream his Vessel rowes, VVho if by chance his arme a little slack, The Bote in the swift channell hurries back; They observations from the stars should make, Mark rising Kids, and note the glittering Snake, As those who homewards through rough Pontus trade, And straights of narrow Hellespont assaid.

VVhen Libra in just ballances shall weigh Darkness with Light, and shadowes with the day, Then exercise your steers, and barely sow, Till too extream the cruell winter grow. Flax, Poppie then, cover with earth and plough VVhil'st the Clouds hang, and thirsty grounds allow. Beans sow in spring; then clave grass rich earth takes, And Millet then your annuall care awakes; VVhen Taurus golden horns open the year, And Syrius leaves to other stars the Sphear. But if for wheat and stronger corne thy ground Thou exercise, and but a crop propound; First, let the Easterne Pleiades goe down, And the bright star of Ariadnes Crowne: Commit dew-seed to furrowes then, and here Trust earth with hope of the insuing year. Would'st thou thy ground should vetch, and Fessels bear, Nor shalt despise AEgyptian Lentils care; Bootes fall no obscure signe will shew; Begin, and sowing to mid-winter sow. Wherefore the golden Sun in equall lines The great orbe governs, through the worlds twelve signs. Five Zones the heavens infold, one still is beat With scorching beams, torrid with mighty heat: On either hand th' extreams extend their track, Bound still with cruell ice, with tempests black: Between the midst, and these, two more there are, Which seats the Gods for mortals did prepare: Through both of these a passage doth divide, Through which the signs in oblique order glide. As to Ryphaean hils the world ascends, So to the South of Lybia down it bends: To us the Pole is elevated still, But Ghosts see them beneath, and dismall hell:

Here in huge bendings glides the winding Snake, And like a river doth Meanders make: Through both the Bears incireling them about, Who to be dipt in th'Oceans billows, doubt. Here, (as they say) either is lasting night, And gloomy shade for ever hindring light: Or else from us to them Aurora speeds Ushering the day: and when with panting steeds The Orient breathes on us; there purple night Ascending adds, late Tapers to the light. Hence from no doubtful signs we Seasons know, What time is best to Reap, and when to Sow, And when the faithless Sea we may again Row with tuff Oares, when venture to the Main An armed Fleet, or fell the lofty Pines. Nor vain we mark, setting, and rising signs, VVhich in four Seasons th'equal year divide. But if cold showrs force Swaines within to bide, Much work asks haste, which gainst the weather's fair Is to be done: to whet the blunted share, And of a tree to make a hollow bark, To measure Corn, or else their Sheep to mark; These sharpen Forks and Stakes, the tender Vine Others infold with bonds of Amarine: And some with Rubean twigs, neat baskets binde, Now dry their corn at fire, and then they grinde.

Some works on Holidayes are to be done: To draw out water, no Religion Nor Law forbids us; nor to hedge our Corne, And Snares to lay for Birds, to burne the Thorne, To wash the bleating Flocks in curing Floods. The driver of the slow Ass, often loads His back with Oyl, or Fruit, returning fetch From Town a Handmill, or black mass of Pitch.

The Moone grants severall dayes should be imploy'd Luckie for severall works: the fift, avoide: Hell, and the Furies then were borne; and Earth Gave mighty Typhon, and the Gyants birth Which covenanting Brethren thrice assay To pull down Heaven, Pelion on Ossa lay; On Ossa green Olympus to have thrown; Thrice Jove with thunder cast those mountaines down.

The seventeenth day is best to plant the Vine, Oxen to break, threads to the Web to joyn: The ninth is best for flight, and Bad for theeves. Cold night to many works perfection gives; Or at Sun rise, when fall the early dewes: Night, to mow Stubble, or dry Meadows, choose: For suppling moysture wants not in the night. Some by late fires will watch, and VVinter light, Sharpning a stake, mean while his task, though long His dear wife shortens with a pleasing Song; Running her sounding Shuttle through her Frame. Or she decots sweet Must with gentle flame; And scums with leaves froth from the boyling Pot. But blushing Ceres best at noon is cut; Amidst the heate, the dry corn thrashes best; Plow and sow, naked, Winter is for rest: Then Husbandmen injoy what they did gaine, And with glad seasts each other entertaine: The Geniall time invites, and frees from care. As wealthy ships, when mor'd within the Bar, The Saylors on the Sterns fresh Garlands set. But you may Mast, and Laurell berries get. VVith Oyl and bleeding Myrtle then, and snare Cranes by the feet, and nets for Bucks prepare, Cours timerous Hares, shoot fallow Dear, or swing VVith hempen whip, the Balearian sling,

VVhen Snow lies deep, when Ice the river bars.

VVhat shall I say of the Autumnall Stars, VVhen lesser heate gives day a swifter wing; VVhich must be watch'd; so must the floury Spring. Oft I have seen, when corne from golden lands Ready to house, just when the strawie bands Should binde the sheaves; in war the windes contend, And from the roote the yellow harvest rend, The tempest with so black a whirlwinde flew, And the light straw, and flying stubble blue. Oft from the skie a mighty deluge powres, And black storms muster with condensed showrs, Clouds from sea gather, the arch'd skies resound, And Oxens labour the rich corn is drown d. Then dikes are fill'd, and swelling waters raise Loud murmurs, and, seas rore in stormie baies. Then in the hideous night, Jupiter takes In's hand bright lightning, which discharging, shakes The mighty earth; beasts fly, and mortall hearts Base fear dejects. He, with his blazing darts Down Athes, Rhodope, or Ceraunia throws: South windes arise, blacker the tempest grows; Now woods complain with winde, and now the shore. This fearing know heaven stars, and signes, before: Where Melancholy Saturn doth retire, And through what Orbe wanders Cylenian fire. But first the gods adore; to Ceres yeeld Rites yearly, working in the gladsome field, VVhen the soft Spring rough Winter shall succeed Then wine grows mellow and Lambs begin to feed, Then sleep is pleasant, shades spread mountaines ore. Let all the jocund Swaines Ceres adore, Nor one presume sickles to thrust in corne, Till Oken wreathes, for her, his brows adorne,

Dance Country Measures, and like Verses sing.

VVhat most sure signs may to our knowledg bring Drowth, rain, and winde, which ushers in the cold, Jove hath decreed; what new Moons should unfold. When South windes rest, what Swaines so oft perceive When neerer to their stalls their herds they leave. Then straight with rising gusts the Ocean swells, And a loud Fragor heard in lofty hills: Or afar off shores sound with raging seas, And mighty murmurs in the woods increase. From tallest ships then bellows scarce refrain, When Cormorants with clamour from the maine Fly to the shore, and when the Sea-foul sports On the dry Strand, and from the Fen resorts; And mounting bove the lofty clouds the Herne.

Oft before windes thou shalt the stars discern, Shoot swiftly through the skie, and in the night To leave behinde a traine of blazing light, And often chaff to fly, and falling leaves With floting feathers, sport on bounding waves. But when it thunders from the cruel North, And when the East and Western winds draw forth: All dikes are fill'd, the Sailor at th'Alarms Strikes his wet sail, no storm the wise man harms? From which the soaring Crane to Valleys flies; Or else the Cow viewing the open skies, At her wide nostrils the perception takes. Or chattering Swallows fly about the Lakes; Or in the mud Frogs sing their old complaint. Oft through straight paths to secret roofs the Ant Conveies her Eggs; deep drinks the mighty bow: And from their foode in a great flight, the Crow Makes his retreat, and sounds his fanning wings. Various Sea-foul, with those haunt pleasant Springs,

And Asian Medows of Cayster use, Busie, their shoulders bathe, with sprinkling dews. Now under water thou mayst see them dive, And in their sportfull washing vainly strive; The wicked Crow, aloud then rain demands, And all alone stalks proudly on drie sands. Nor at Nocturnall wheeles the Maidens be Of stormes nnskilfull when they shining see The oyle to sparkle in the shining Lamp, And the hard snuff to make the light grow damp. Nor less may'st thou from storms fair weather learn, And long before by surest signes discerne: For then no star an obtuse beame displays, Nor is the Moon estrang'd from Phoebus rayes, Nor fine wool fleeces driven through the skie; Nor to warme Sun's ashore with spread wings lie Halcyon's belov'd of Thetis: nor loose straw, Foule Swine remenber in their mouthes to draw. But Clouds sink lower, and to Vales retreat: And from high roofes observing Phoebus set, The Owle in vaine, late notes doth exercise. Nisus appears, high in the Chrystall skies, And Scylla punisheth for the purple haire. Where ere she flying cuts the yielding aire, Nisus behold! her sterne foe through the skies, Sounding, persues: where through the Heaven he flies, On swift wings shuning through the Clouds she bends, Then oft the Crow her watery throat extends. Redoubling notes oft in their towrie nest: (With what unwonted joy I have not guest) Sport 'mongst the leaves, the storme past, glad to see Their ancient buildings, and fair Progenie. Nor think I Heaven on them such Knowledge states, Nor that their Prudence is above the Fates.

But when a tempest, and the fleeting rack Hath chang'd their course, and the moyst aire grows black With Southern windes, which thicken in the skies Thin vapours, and the grosser, rarifies; Their thoughts are chang d, the motions of their minde Inconstant are, like Clouds before the winde: Hence tis that birds chaunt forth melodious notes, The beasts are glad, and Crowes stretch joyfull throtes. If the swift Sun whose horses never swerve, And Moons in order following thou observe: Th'insuing day shall never thee deceive, Nor nights fair promises of hope bereave. When first the Moon renewing flame adorns; If a grosse aire, obscure her blunted horns, Great showres, for sea, and Husbandmen prepare: But if her face a Virgine blush declare, It shall be winde 'gainst winde she blusheth still. If the fourth day her Orbe with silver fill, (For that by long experience hath been tride) Nor with blunt horns through Chrystall Heaven shall glide: That day, and all that follow, you shall finde To the moneths end, free, both from raine and winde. To Milecert, Glaucus, Panapaea now Sailors preserv'd, from danger, pay their vow. Also true signes the Sun at rising shewes, And when he doth in Thetis lap repose, For the most certain on the Sun attend: Both in the morne, and when the stars ascend. When rising he with many spots growes pale. Drown'd in a Cloud, and half his Orbe doth vaile: Then storms expect, then Southwinds rise from sea, To trees, and corne, and Cattell, enemie. Or when amongst thick Clouds before the day Many refracted beams themselves dlsplay;

Or when forsaking Tythons saffron bed, Much paleness hath Auroras cheek ore-spread. Ah! then but ill, the vines defend their grapes, Such horrid haile on house tops ratling leaps. This to remember it will profit thee: When he high Heaven forsakes, (for oft we see Strange colours wandring in his visage, joyn'd) The duskie threatens rain, the fiery winde. But if the spots red slashes shall unfold, All vext with raine, and winde thou shalt behold. That night shall none perswade me to the sea, Nor yet advise, that I my anchor weigh. But when he gives, or takes the day again, His Orbe be clear, thou fear'st a showre in vain. Then thou mayst see soft gales to move the woods; What Vesper next, (whence winds drive empty clouds) What Auster plots, the Sun doth signifie, And who so bold to give the Sun the lye. Clandestine tumults, he doth oft foreshew, And open war, from secret plots to grow: He pitying Rome at Caesars funerals spread A mourning vaile, ore his illustrious head. The impious age then fear'd eternall night, Though in that time Earth and vast Amphytrite, Fierce Dogs, and cruell foule strange signs did yield; We, smoking AEtna ith' Cyclopian field Oft saw to rage, and from broke tunnels came Huge liquid stones, and mighty globes of flame. Germany heard from heaven a sound of armes, And the Alps trembled at unus'd alarms: A mighty voyce in silent groves was heard, And gastly spirits, wonderous pale, appear'd Before twas night: and beasts (o wondrous) spake; Swift rivers stand, and yauning earth did quake: Brasse in the Temples sweat: sad Ivorie weeps, High woods, Eridanus, King of rivers, sweeps;

And on the plaines with hostile billows falls, Bearing with him the cattell and their stalls. Nor then sad entrails threatnings ceast to shew, Nor through the channels putrid blood to flow; And then the populous Cities did resound With howling wolves, which walk'd their nightly round, Nor from cleer skies ever more lightning came, Nor such dire Comets oftener seen to flame. Again, Phillipi, Roman Squadrons saw With equall arms, for dreadfull battell draw. Twice with our blood the Gods did not disdain To inrich Aemus, and th' Aemathian pliane. Time comes, by Swians, when turning up their ground Eaten with rust, large Javelins shall be found: Or boysterous rakes, from emptie helms strike fire, And shall huge bones dig'd from their tombs admire. Great Vesta, Romulus, and our native Gods, Who lofty Rome preserve, and Tuscan floods. Ah for the Prince, at length your selves ingage, That he again repair this ruin'd Age. Long since enough we with our bloods did pay For sacrelegious perjuries of Troy. Caesar, long since Heavens court envi'de us thee, Griev'd thou shouldst pleas'd with mortall triumphs be. Wrong was turn'd right, and war through all the world, So many shapes of wickedness had hurl'd. To the scorn'd Plow, no man doth honour yield, Swains prest to arms, waste lies th' uncultur'd field: And crooked Sythes to swords transformed are. Euphrates here, there Germany makes war: The neighbouring Towns in Civill arms ingage, And impious Mars through all the world doth rage.

As when the Chariots starting from the bar Straight through the listed Champaine hurried are: The Charioteer is borne away, in vaine Checking their speed; who now contemn the reine.