The works of Publius Virgilius Maro translated by John Ogilby.

THE FOVRTH BOOK OF Virgil's GEORGICKS.

THE ARGUMENT.

How for the Bees fit stations to contrive. Of what, and how, to build the stately hive. In setling Realms, they oft divided are; And for their Kings contend in mighty war. Their Diet, Customs, Laws and Chastity: Their toyle and rest, they winds and rain foresee. Their stocks, their age, and Loyalty to Kings What their invention to perfection brings. What cures against Diseases to afford, And how th' whole Nation lost, may be restor'd.

I'Le to Aetheriall honey next proceed, Heavens choicest gift, this too, (Maecenas) reade. Wonders admir'd, to thee of lowly things, In order their whole stocks, magnanimous Kings, Wars, labours, manners, Nations I'le recite, Slight is the theame, but not the glory slight; If pleas'd powers grant, and cal'd Apollo heare.

First, for thy bees seek a fit station, where

No winds approach, (for them each gale forbids To bring home food. Nor sheep and wanton Kids Tread down the grasse, or heifers shake the dewes VVandring the plaines; and tender herbage bruise Thence speckled Lizards with pide shoulders drive Woodpecks, and other birds from the rich hive, And Progne who a bloodie hand did smeare. For all things these devast, in their mouthes bear The winged Bee, sweet food to cruell nests. Let Springs be neer, and Lakes green mosse invests; And a pure river gliding through the mead, Where Palme their gates, and branching Olive shade. That when new Kings shall forth their Colonies bring, And youth drawn out sport in the wanton spring; The neighbouring banks may them from heat invite, And willing trees with courteous boughes delight,

Amidst; whether the water stand or runs, Lay twigs a crosse, and cast in mighty stones, That they on many bridges safe may stand, And to the warming sun their wings expand. VVhen stormy Eurus hath them tardy found, And scatter'd, or indanger'd to have drown'd. Let verdant Cassia round about them dwell; And Betonie which gives so large a smell: And of sweet-breathing Succorie store be set, And let them drink the dewes of Violet.

VVhether of hollow bark thou dost contrive, Or else with limber twigs compose the hive: Make straight the gate: for cold congeales the wax, And heat by melting doth again relax: Both which extreams the Bees alike do fear. Nor they in vain those breathing cranies smear Of their low roofs with wax, indevouring still, Th' edges with balme, and pleasant flowrs to fill.

And for this use a glue they gather, which Excels all bird-lime and Idaean pitch.

Oft in deep Caves, (if fame a truth report) Low underneath, they vault their waxen Court; And oft discover'd in a hollow Rock, Or in the bellie of an aged Oke. But thou their roomes with clay well-temper'd, seel; And with leaves cover, that no cold they feel. About their Court let no Yewes grow, nor bake The fiery crab, nor trust too deep a Lake: Or where bad smels, or hollow Rocks resound, And angrie echoes of the voyce rebound.

Next when bright Sol makes winter to retreat Behinde the Earth, and opens Heaven with heat, Straight they draw out, and wander Groves and woods, Reap purple flowres, and taste the crystall floods. By what instinct I know not, then they flie To their own Courts, and their dear progenie. Next with great Art, their waxen Cels contrive, And the elaborated honey stive.

But when thou seest a troup aspiring, flie; Drawn from their winter quarters through the skie; And curious hast with admiration spide A sable Cloud through crystall Sphears to glide; Then to sweet springs, and pleasant shades they goe, Here oderous flowres, and beaten Milfoyle strow, With honey-Suckles make a brazen sound, And beat the Cymbals of the Goddess round: They on charm'd boughs will stay, or else retreat, As is the custome to their parents seat.

But if they draw to battell, (oft between Two Kings great discord, and sad wars have been) And straight thou mayst foresee the vulgar rage: Wilde for mad war; for those who not ingage,

The martiall note provokes, heard is th' alarme, Like dreadfull Trumpets when they sound to arme. They list proud troups in haste, their Spears they whet, Their light shields furnish, and their arms they fit, Guarding their King thick to the Court they goe, And with loud clamor challenge out the foe. Then when'tis fair, the open field they take, They joyne their battell, and they joyning make A noise scales heaven, and in close order all Strongly imbodied charge, then head-long fall.

Not thicker haile doth in a tempest poure,

Nor shaken Okes more plenteous akorns showre. The Kings amid'st the bands in armor shine, And mighty soules in narrow brests confine, Both resolute not to yield, till these or they Are to proud Conquerors fore'd to give the day: These huge commotions, and so mightie war, Suddain with thrown-up dust appeased are.

But when both Princes you from battell call, Who seems the worst, lest he a prodigall Should waste the stock; command him to be slain, And let the best in th' emptie pallace reign. One shines with gold, whom glorious colours grace, Two sorts there are: the best, his noble face Hath blushing cheeks, with sloth the other pale His sagging bellie after him doth traile. As their two Kings, such their two Nations are; For one s deform'd, as when a traveller Through clouds of dust, extreamly thirsty gets And from's drie mouth a sulleid water spits. The other shines with gold, and glory grac'd; And equall spots upon their bodies plac'd. This Progenie is best, from these you may Sweet honey at the certain time conveigh,

Not only sweet, but also shall be fine, And which shall qualifie your sharpest wine.

But when they wander, sporting through the skies, Forsake their hives, and cooling roofes despise, Let not their stragling minds seek idle things: Nor hard's the task; but cut their Princes wings, They staying at home, none dares to scale heavens arch, Or with spread ensignes from their camp to march. Them, let sweet gardens with fresh flowres invite, And old Priapus, who the thieves doth fright, And spoyling birds from thence with's awfull look, All safe preserving with his sallow hook.

Set thyme about their roofs, and Pines remove From lofty hills if thou such labours love Weary thy hand with toyle, and pleasant bowres Plant round, and dew the earth with friendly showrs. And did not I, now to my Port draw neer; And striking saile my prow to shore did steer; How to adorne fair gardens I would sing, And Pestum, where there is a double spring. Why Succorie in pleasant streams delights, And verdant parseley swelling banks invites; And Cucumers grow plump along the grass, Nor would I Daffadils long in growth, orepasse; Or soft Acanthus, winding Ivie's store, And Myrtle so inamour'd on the shore.

I call to minde neere high Oebalius towrs, Where slow Galesus waters Ceres bowrs, I saw an old Corycian, who injoy'd Few akers, not for pasturage imploy'd, Nor was it fit for corne or vineyard found. Yet he, mongst thornes, choice herbs and lillies round His garden Vervaine did, and Poppie finde, That wealthiest Kings he equal'd in his minde:

And late at night returning home well stor'd, He with unpurchas'd banquets lades his board. He in the spring did first sweet Roses pull; And could in Autumne apples soonest cull; VVhen stones with cold the cruell winter cleaves, And bridles up with ice the flowing waves. His soft Acanthus now he gently twinde, Chiding the tardy spring, and lingring winde. Therefore huge swarms, his bees first pregnant brought, And his full combes rivers of honey fraught, His Pines and barren Lindons fruitfull were; As many blossoms as his tree did bear, So many apples it in Autumne grac'd: And he the lofty Elms in order plac'd. Wardens, and Thorne, which now a damson made, And Planes which to Carousers are a shade; But these excluded by a narrow straight, I leave to others after to relate.

Now I'le declare those gifts which were confer'd On bees by Jove himself, for what reward They follow'd tinkling brass, and Curets sound, And fed the King of heaven under ground.

In common only they maintain their race, And like a Citie rang'd their houses place; And understrictest Laws they aged grow, Their native Countrey, and fix'd mansions know, Mindfull of winter, labour in the Spring, And to the publick store their profit bring.

For some provide, and by a compact made Labour abroad; others within are stai'd To lay Narcissus tears, and yielding gum As the first ground-work, of the honey combe: And after they tenacious honey spread. Others the Nations hope, young Colonies breed.

A second part the purest honey stives; Untill the liquid Nectar crack the hives.

There are by lot attend the gates, t'informe Approaching showrs, and to foretell a storme. To ease the loaden, or imbattel'd drive The Drones, a slothfull cattell from the hive. Work heats; of thyme the fragrant honey smels. As when the Cyclops the soft masse compels, Hasting for Jove huge thunderbolts to make: Some with the bellows air returne, and take; Others in water dip the hissing o're; Aetnean Caves with beaten anvils rore: They with much strength, their arms in order raise, And turne with tongues the mass a thousand wayes. So (if I may great things compare with small) Bees to their work for love of profit fall, Each hath his task, the aged Rulers are, And frame Dedalian roofs, and combs repair; But those that youthfull be, and in their prime, Late in the night return, loaden with thyme, On every bush, and tree about they spread; And are with Cassia and rich Saffron fed, Or purple Daffadils, and Lindors tall. All rest at once; at once they labour all. Early they take the field, at night again When Vesper them from feeding doth constrain; Homeward they draw; and strength decaid restore, And with soft murmurs throng about the dore.

When they repose, all night they silent are, And pleasant sleep doth wearied limbs repair; Nor from their hives they stir, when rain is nigh, Nor trust their persons to a stormy skie. But safe they water nere their Cities wall; And oft with Pebles journeys make, but small,

As a light boat ballanc'd on raging seas, VVith which through vacant aire themselves they peise.

'Tis strange that Bees such customs should maintain, Venus to scorne: in wanton lust disdain To waste their strength; and without throws they breed; But cull from leaves, and various flowres their seed. Their Kings and pettie Princes they proclaime, Then Pallaces and waxen Kingdoms frame, But oft their wings are torne on Rocks abroad, And free they spend their lives beneath their load, So love they flowrs, and to make honey pride. Though soon the tearm of their short life doth glide, (For the seventh summer a full period gives) Yet their immortall race for ever lives. Their noble house for many years remains, And records keep of antient Princes reigns.

Next not rich Aegypt, nor great Lydia, Parthians or Medians, more their Prince obey, Whil'st their King lives, they all agree in one, But dead, the publick faith is overthrown. They make the Common wealth a spoyle, and rend Their Waxen Realms, his life did all defend. They honour him, and with a martiall sound Circle about, and strongly guard him round. Bear on their back, twix'd him and death they stood, And purchas'd noble funerals with their blood.

From these examples some there are maintain, That Bees derive from a celestiall strain, And heavenly race; they say the Deity Is mix'd through earth, the Sea, and lofty skie, Hence men and beasts, both wilde, and tame derive; And what so ere by breathing air survive. To this they after are dissolv'd, and then Return'd assume first Principles agen: Nor is there place for death; their spirits fly To the great stars, and plant the lofty skie.

But if their narrow Courts thou mean'st to spoyle, And seiz the treasure of the honey pile, Water with silence in their chambers spout, And with your hand extended smoke them out. Twice they swarme yearly, twice a large increase Their harvest brings; first when the Pleiades Her sacred brow above the earth doth shoot, And spurnes the scorned Ocean with her foot; Or when that star from watery signes retires, And sad in stormy waves conceases her fires.

But when incens'd their anger knows no mean, For if you hurt them; they inspire a bane; And in the bodie fix'd their Javelins leave; And where they give the wound, their death receive.

But fear'st thou cruell winter, and wouldst spare Pittying their broken mindes, and sad affair; Who doubts to cut them wax, and to persume With thyme? for oft base Lizards spoyle the coomb, And the blinde Beetle wasts the precious hoard, ••••nd Drones free-quartered at anothers board. Or cruell Wasps charge with unequal•• arms, Or the Moths eating generation harmes, Or else Minerva's hatefull Spider sets About their Pallace gates, intangling nets. How much by fortune they exhausted are, So much they strive their ruines to repair Of their falne Nation, and they fill th' Exchange Adorning with the choicest flowrs their grange.

But if (since Bees know our calamities) Their bodies languish in a sad disease, Which thou by signes to manifest mayst know, Their looks are chang'd, and their dejected brow Paleness deforms▪ when they to shades descend, In order wofull funerals they attend. Or else they mourn lingering about the dore, Or in their chambers privately deplore;

Till they with hunger, and stiffe cold grow numb. Then sadder notes are heard, a dolefull hum. As when rough Auster murmurs through the woods, Or as loud waves rore with incensed floods, Or dreadfull flames rage pent in furnaces. To burn Galbanian odour I'le advise, And bring the mourners honey in a cane, T'intice the wretches to known food again. Juice of Oke-apples mix'd with Roses dride; And richest wine, with fire well purifi'de, To these Cecropian thyme, and Centaurie joyne, And grapes which dangle on th' Psythian vine.

There is a flower, which grows in meadow ground: Swaines call Amello, easie to be found: Which golden, like a mighty grove doth sprout: But the thick leaves, that shade it round about Are clad in purple; which the Altars oft Imbraceth with sweet wreathes, and garlands soft: Sharp in the taste; wise Shepherds gather them In flowrie vales, neer Mellas sacred stream. The root of these they mix with Bacchus blood, And at their gates leave plenty of this food.

But should the whole stock faile, not one remain, From whom they should derive their house again; Th' Arcadians rare invention we must here Remember, who with blood of a slaine steer Oft Bees restor'd. I will recount it all And tell the story from th' originall.

Where happy people plant Canopus soyl, And dwell neer spreading streams of flowing Nile, And through their Countrey painted vessels rowes, And where the stream from the tan'd Indian flowes, Which borders nigh the quiver'd Persian land, And verdant Aegypt mailes with fruitfull sand; Then spreading doth in seven large channels part, These Nations all are confident in this art.

First take a little place, for that use chose, Then tile it, and with narrow wals inclose, And let there be four windows next design'd, With oblique lights, made from each severall winde. Then take a steer; grac'd with a branching top, Of two year old; his breath and nostrils stop; And whil'st he struggles, him with beating kill, That the sound hide his dissolv'd bowels fill. Thus dead they leave it shut and under lay Green branches, thyme and freshest Cassia. This must be done, when Zephire calms the main, Before the Meads blush with new flowrs again, Ere her high nest the chattering Swallow makes. Whilst in young bones the cherish'd humour takes, Then moving Creatures, (wonderous to behold,) First without feet, then sounding wings unfold; Then boldly by degrees to heaven they tower, And sallie forth, thick as a summer showre; Or as a cloud of arrows in their flight, When the bold Parthians are ingag'd in fight. What God ô Muse! this strange art did invent, From whence had man this new experiment.

When Aristhaeus left sweet Tempe's coast, His Bees by famine and diseases lost, Sad, standing at the sacred fountains head, Complaining much he to his mother said. Mother, Cyrene, who commands these floods, Why me, the noble offspring of the Gods (If Phoebus is my Sire as you declare) Bor'st thou the scorne of Fate? where is your care? Thou gav'st me hope, that I in heaven should reign; But now those honours mortall life sustain Of corne, and herds, got by such toyle, and care, I now must loose, though you my Mother are. Goe, and my fertile groves thy self annoy, And burn my stalls; with fire my corne destroy.

Hew down, and spoyle my vinyards; if to thee, So grievous are those honours granted me.

Under the streams soft bed his Mother heard, Whil'st round her Nymphs Milesian wool did card, Staind with rich green. Drimo and Xantho, faire Philodoce and Ligea, their bright haire Upon their snowie necks dishevel'd lay, Spio, Nisaee, Cymodoce and Thalia, Lycorias, Cydipe; a virgine one, The other had pangs of Lucina known: Clio, and Beroe, both to th' Ocean borne, VVhom gold, and curious mantles did adorne. Ephyre, and Ophis, Asian Diope, And Arethusa swift her arms laid by.

Amongst these Climene did vain cares relate Of Vulcan, those sweet thefts and Mars deceit, Gods many loves, from Chaos did rehearse VVhil'st they their soft webs ply, pleas'd with the verse. Aristaeus grief, then pierc'd his mothers ear; All on their crystall seats amazed were. But Arethusa first her golden head Advancing from a swelling billow, said, Dear sister, not in vain we troubled are, VVith such a sad complaint; thy chiefest care Poore Aristaeus, at his fathers streams Stands weeping, and thy cruelty condemns: Then said his mother, struck with suddain fear, Hast, hast, and shew him in, he may repair To the Gods Court; then bids the waves divide, To make her Son a passage: on each side Billows like Mountains stand; then she receives Him twixt the flood; and leads beneath the waves. He wondring goes, through Courts, and crystall Realms; Loud groves, and Caves, which water over-whelms; And with tumultuous waves astonish'd found All the great rivers, gliding under ground

Through divers wayes, whence Phasis, Lycus spread, And where deep Inepeus shews his head, And where old Tyber, and sweet Aniens flowes, VVhere murmuring Hypanis, and Lycus rose, Golden Eridanus, with a double horne, Fac'd like a Bull: through fertile fields of corne Then whom none swifter of the Oceans sons Down to the purple Adriatick runs.

VVhen he to chambers arch'd with pumice drew, And that Cyrene his vain sorrow knew, To wash his hands, his sisters from the spring Draw crystall water, and fring'd towels bring, Tables they load with meat, and full Cups plac'd, Then with Pancheian fire the Altar grac'd.

Here spake his mother, Let rich wine be payd Unto the sea; next to the Ocean pray'd, Founder of things, and to the nymphs, who woods Preserve a hundred, and as many floods. Now thrice on fire she casts the flowing wine, As oft with flame the lofty seelings shine. Pleas'd with the Omen then she thus began.

Green Proteus dwels in the Carpathian maine, Prophet to Neptune, through broad seas he glides; And in his Chariot with Sea-horses rides. Now gone t' Emathia and his native shore: VVe Sea Nymphs, and old Nereus him adore. For the great Prophet all things doth foresee, VVhat is, what was, and what shall after be: This Neptune gave him, whose great herd he breeds, And nuge Sea-Calves beneath the water feeds. But him thou first must binde, ere heel'le declare Cause of thy losse, and prosper thy affair. Unless you force him, no advice he grants, And is inexorable to all complaints. Handle him roughly then, and binde him fast, And all his slights shall useless prove at last.

I'le bring thee (when at noon the Sun invades The scorched grass, and beasts retire to shades;) To th' old mans Cave; whom suddain thou mayst seize, As he in soft repose shall take his ease.

But when th' hast bound him, and with chains subdude, With various transformations he'le delude; A savage Boar, fierce Tyger, scalie Snake, And a huge Lion with a shaggie neck; Or to escape shall thunder like a flame; Or glide from thee in a swift crystall stream: How much the more he changes to all shapes, So much more carefull (son) prevent escapes; Till his first forme returns, which thou did'st spie, When he in pleasant slumber clos'd his eye.

This said she with a heavenly odour strews, Her son all over, and Ambrosian dews: Her comely tresses breathe celestiall air, And did his body with new strength repair.

There is a Cave, worne in a mountains side, Where stormy winds oft forc'd the swelling tide, VVhich cuts it self into a land-lockd bay, VVhere once strest Mariners in safety lay.

Proteus in this lies guarded with a vast Fence-work of Rock; here she the young man plac'd Shelter'd with darkness, from discovering light: But she to thin air vanish'd from his sight.

And now hot Syrius through drie India hurl'd, Rag'd from the skie, and all the middle world The Sun inflam'd; grass burns, and to the mud The scortching beams boyle the exhausted flood, VVhen Proteus came to his accustomd place, About him the vast Oceans watery race, VVho sporting, off the brackish water shake, Then stretch't along the shore, sound sleep they take. He as a herdman in the mountains, when Vesper invites Cattell to house agen;

And bleating Lambs, the cruell wolves provoke, Sits on a cliffe, and numbers all his flock.

He since so fair the opportunity shews, Scarce grants th' old man his weary limbs compose, But rusheth with a shout and bound him laid. VVho not unmindfull of his arts t' evade, Transforms himself into all monsters dire: Now he's a beast, a flood, and straight a fire. But when no slight prevail'd, he vanquished Himself assumes, and with a mans voyce said.

O most undanted youth, by whose commands Found'st thou our Court? what seek'st thou at our hands? But he repli'de: Proteus, thou knowst, thou know'st; Nor of beguiling thee may any boast. Desist; I seek, commanded here by Fate, How to repair my now decayed state.

The Prophet then rouling his fiery eyes VVith flaming beams, inraged, thus replies, And Destiny declares: No common God Displeas'd, on thee hath laid his heavie rod; A great plague is begun; this punishment, (And less then thou deserv st) hath Orpheus sent. For he incens'd (if Fates not interpose) For his lost wife, will yet procure more woes. VVho whil'st she swiftly by the river side From thee pursuing fled, unhappy Bride Saw not the mighty Snake, which lurking was Under the bank and hid in spreading grass. Alone the Dryades on mountains wept, The Rhodopeian towrs her funerals kept, Lofty Pangaea, and bold Rhesus coast, Getes, Hebrus, and Actian Orythia most. He on his well-tun'de instrument, alone His hapless love, thee his sweet wife did moane; And by himself thee on forsaken shores, Early and late, thee in his song deplores;

He Taenarus, and wofull gates of Dis; And horrid groves where dreadfull darkness is, And Manes past, to the stern King repairs, And courts not us'd to bend to humane prayers. He with his song, charm'd from the dismall Coasts, Of Eribus pale soules, and liveless Ghosts, Men, women, and magnanimous Heroes, here Boyes, virgins, young men laid upon the beer Before their Parents face: whom hellish mud And horrid reeds of th Acherontick flood, With slow fens of th' innavigable sound Bindes in, and Styx nine times incircles round. Hells court, and gates of death amazed were; The furies now not twist their snakie haire, Then silenc'd were loud Cerberus triple jaws, Ixions restles wheele stood at a pause: All these he past; then back returns, with faire Eurydice, to the Aetheriall aire, She following him (for so hells Queen injoyn'd) When fond thoughts seiz'd th' incautelous lovers minde: The fault was small, if fiends to pardon knew; He made a stand; as to the light he drew, Forgetfull, love prevailing o're his minde, On his Eurydice to look back, inclin'd; His labour lost, hels Tyrant promise brake, And thrice a sound rose from th' Avernian Lake.

But she Dear Orpheus said, what thee could move To ruine both? why was so much thy love? Behold I am recal'd by destinies, Eternall sleep closeth my failing eyes; And now farewell; black night surroundeth me, Stretching weak hands, alas, not thine, to thee. This said; she suddain vanish'd from his eyes, And like smoke mix'd with winde, dispersed, flies, Nor saw him catch in vain the yielding aire, Earnest his mighty sorrow to declare.

Nor would hels churlish Feriman agen Transport him o're the Acherontick fen. What can he do? twice having lost his love, Or with what sute infernall spirits move? She sayling in the Stygian boat growes cold. Whil'st seven long moneths delaying periods told Under a Rock, (as fame reports) he kept; And at forsaken Strymons billows wept. Mourning in dismall Caves, Tygers, once fierce, Grow milde, and stubborn Okes move at his Verse.

As mongst the Poplar shade in dolefull strains Rob'd of her young, sad Philomel complains; Whom scarce yet fleg'd, some rustick having found Took from the nest: but she doth woes resound Perch'd on a tree; and the whole night laments, Filling all places with her sad complaints.

No love, nor other bed, could him intice: Alone he goes, through Hyperborean ice, And Tanais snow, wandring through bitter coasts, For ever wedded to Rhiphaean frosts: Pluto's vain gift Eurydice he mourn'd. The Thracian Dames because their beds he scorn'd, Him at their Bacchanalian orgies tore, And strew the young mans limbs about the shore. His head then from his Ivorie shoulders torn, Was down the channell of swift Hebrus born, And whilst his dying tongue could move at all; Eurydice, Eurydice, did call: And all the banks resound Euridice. This Proteus said, and lept into the Sea, And where he lept did make the fomie wave Under his body, with huge strokes to rave.

Then thus Cyrene spake, to ease his care. My dearest son, now lay aside all fear, Since the whole cause is known of thy mischance, The Nymphs with whom in groves she us'd to dance,

Have sent this sad destruction on thy Bees, Then humbly them appease with sacrifice, And there the yielding Dryades adore; They will forgive, if thou with vows implore. But first know how thou shalt thy offering make.

Foure of thy large, and best-fed bullocks take, Which now on tops of green Lycaeus use; As many of thy unbroke heifers choose, Then with great care for these foure Altars raise In the high Temples of the Goddesses: And from their throates let forth the sacred blood, Then leave their bodies in a shadie wood; And when the ninth Aurora brings the day, To Orpheus Ghost Lethaean Poppie pay, And a black sheep: then view the grove again Pleasing Eurydice with a fat Calf slain. He the Commands of's mother straight obey'd, Went to the temple, and foure Altars made: And foure of's largest bullocks forth he took; As many comely heisers never broke.

And when the ninth day bright Aurora shew'd, He worships Orpheus, and the wood review d. A wonder not to be believ'd! he sees From the dissolved entrails swarms of Bees Which from the broken ribs, resounding flye, And in a thick cloud sallie to the skie. On a tall trees top-branch they cluster now, As grapes hang dangling on the gentle bow.

Thus tillage, beasts, and trees, have been my theame, Whil'st mighty Caesar at Euphrates stream Thunders with war, and Conqueror Laws ordains For willing Realms, and heaven with valour gains. To mee sweet Capua breeding then imparts, Pleas'd with the study of contemned arts: There a bold youth, I chanted rurall aires, And Tityrus sung in cool shade free from cares.