To let her first in virgin lustre shine,
In form a goddess, with a bloom divine:
And next the sire demands Minerva's aid,
In all her various skill to train the maid,
Bids her the secrets of the loom impart,
To cast a curious thread with happy art:
And golden Venus was to teach the fair
The wiles of love, and to improve her air,
And then, in awful majesty, to shed

A thousand graceful charms around her head:
Next Hermes, artful god, must form her mind,
One day to torture, and the next be kind,
With manners all deceitful, and her tongue
Fraught with abuse, and with detraction hung.
Jove gave the mandate; and the gods obey'd.
First Vulcan form'd of earth the blushing maid;
Minerva next perform'd the task assign'd,
With ev'ry female art adorn'd her mind.
To dress her Suada, and the Graces, join;
Around her person, lo! the di'monds shine.
To deck her brows the fair-tress'd Seasons bring
A garland breathing all the sweets of Spring.
Each present Pallas gives its proper place,
And adds to ev'ry ornament a grace.
Next Hermes taught the fair the heart to move,
With all the false alluring arts of love,
Her manners all deceitful, and her tongue
With falsehoods fruitful, and detraction hung.
The finish'd maid the gods Pandora call,
Because a tribute she receiv'd from all:
And thus, 'twas Jove's command, the sex began,
A lovely mischief to the soul of man.
When the great sire of gods beheld the fair,
The fatal guile, th' inevitable snare,
Hermes he bids to Epimetheus bear.
Prometheus, mindful of his theft above,
Had warn'd his brother to beware of Jove,
To take no present that the god should send,
Lest the fair bride should ill to man portend;
But he, forgetful, takes his evil fate,
Accepts the mischief, and repents too late.
Mortals at first a blissful Earth enjoy'd,
With ills untainted, nor with cares annoy'd;
To them the world was no laborious stage,
Nor fear'd they then the miseries of age;
But soon the sad reversion they behold,
Alas! they grow in their afflictions old;
For in her hand the nymph a casket bears,
Full of diseases, and corroding cares,
Which open'd, they to taint the world begin,
And Hope alone remains entire within.
Such was the fatal present from above,
And such the will of cloud-compelling Jove.
And now unnumber'd woes o'er mortals reign,
Alike infected is the land, and main,
O'er human race distempers silent stray,
And multiply their strength by night and day;
'Twas Jove's decree they should in silence rove;
For who is able to contend with Jove?
And now the subject of my verse I change;
To tales of profit and delight I range;
Whence you may pleasure and advantage gain,
If in your mind you lay the useful strain.

Soon as the deathless gods were born, and man,
A mortal race, with voice endow'd, began,
The heav'nly pow'rs from high their work
behold,

And the first age they style an age of gold.
Men speut a life like gods in Saturn's reign,
Nor felt their mind a care, nor body pain;

From labour free they ev'ry sense enjoy;
Nor could the ills of time their peace destroy;
In banquets they delight, remov'd from care;
Nor troublesome old age intruded there:
They die, or rather seem to die, they seem
From hence transported in a pleasing dream.
The fields, as yet untill'd, their fruits afford,
And fill a sumptuous, and unenvied board:
Thus, crown'd with happiness their ev'ry day,
Serene, and joyful, pass'd their lives away.

When in the grave this race of men was laid,
Soon was a world of holy demons made,
Aerial spirits, by great Jove design'd
To be on Earth the guardians of mankind;
Invisible to mortal eyes they go,

And mark our actions, good or bad, below;
Th' immortal spies with watchful care preside,
And thrice ten thousand round their charges glide:
They can reward with glory, or with gold;
A pow'r they by divine permission hold.

Worse than the first, a second age appears,
Which the celestials call the silver years.
The golden age's virtues are no more;
Nature grows weaker than she was before;
In strength of body mortals much decay;
And human wisdom seems to fade away.
An hundred years the careful dames emply,
Before they form'd to man th' unpolish'd boy;
Who when he reach'd his bloom, his age's prime,
Found, measur'd by his joys, but short his time.
Men, prone to ill, denied the gods their due,
And, by their follies, made their days but few.
The altars of the bless'd neglected stand,
Without the off'rings which the laws demand;
But angry Jove in dust this people laid,
Because no honours to the gods they paid. [span,
This second race, when clos'd their life's short
Was happy deem'd beyond the state of man;
Their names were grateful to their children made;
Each paid a rev'rence to his father's shade.

And now a third, a brazen, people rise, Unlike the former, men of monstrous size: Strong arms extensive from their shoulders grow, Their limbs of equal magnitude below; Potent in arms, and dreadful at the spear, They live injurious, and devoid of fear: On the crude flesh of beasts, they feed, alone, Savage their nature, and their hearts of stone; Their houses brass, of brass the warlike blade, Iron was yet unknown, in brass they trade: Furious, robust, impatient for the fight, War is their only care, and sole delight. To the dark shades of death this race descend, By civil discords, an ignoble end! [might, Strong tho' they were, death quell'd their boasted And forc'd their stubborn souls to leave the light. To these a fourth, a better, race succeeds, Of godlike heroes, fam'd for martial deeds; Them demigods, at first, their matchless worth Proclaims aloud, all through the boundless Earth. These, horrid wars, their love of arms, destroy, Some at the gates of Thebes, and some at Troy. These for the brothers fell, detested strife! For beauty those, the lovely Grecian wife! To these does Jove a second life ordain, Some happy soil far in the distant main, Where live the hero-shades in rich repast, Remote from mortals of a vulgar cast: There in the islands of the bless'd they find, Where Saturn reigns, an endless calm of mind;

Who right espouses through a righteous love,
Shall meet the bounty of the hands of Jove:
But he that will not be by laws contin'd,
Whom not the sacrament of oaths can bind,
Who, with a willing soul, can justice leave,
A wound immortal shall that man receive;
His house's honour daily shall decline:
Fair flourish shall the just from line to line.
O! Perses, foolish Perses, bow thine ear
To the good counsels of a soul sincere.
To wickedness the road is quickly found,
Short is the way, and on an easy ground.
The paths of virtue must be reach'd by toil,
Arduous and long, and on a rugged soil,
Thorny the gate, but when the top you gain,
Fair is the future, and the prospect plain.
Far does the man all other men excel,
Who, from his wisdom, thinks in all things well,
Wisely consid'ring, to himself a friend,
All for the present best, and for the end;
Nor is the man without his share of praise,
Who well the dictates of the wise obeys;
But he that is not wise himself, nor can
Hearken to wisdom, is a useless man.

Ever observe, Perses, of birth divine,
My precepts, and the profit shall be thine;
Then famine always shall avoid thy door,
And Ceres, fair-wreath'd goddess, bless thy store.
The slothful wretch, who lives from labour free,
Like drones, the robbers of the painful bee,
Has always men, and gods, alike his foes;
Him famine follows with her train of woes."
With cheerful zeal your mod'rate toils pursue,
That your full barns you may in season view.
The man industrious, stranger is to need,
A thousand flocks his fertile pastures feed;
As with the drone, with him it will not prove,
Him men and gods behold with eyes of love.
To care and labour think it no disgrace,
False pride! the portion of the sluggard race:
The slothful man, who never work'd before,
Shall gaze with envy on thy growing store:
Like thee to flourish, he will spare no pains;
For lo! the rich virtue and glory gains.

Strictly observe the wholesome rules I give, And, bless'd in all, thou like a god shalt live. Ne'er to thy neighbour's goods extend thy cares, Nor be neglectful of thine own affairs. Let no degen'rate shame debase thy mind, Shame that is never to the needy kind; The man that has it will continue poor; He must be bold that would enlarge his store: But ravish not, depending on thy might, Injurious to thyself, another's right. Who, or by open force, or secret stealth, Or perjur'd wiles, amasses heaps of wealth, Such many are, whom thirst of gain betrays, The gods, all-seeing, shall o'ercloud his days; His wife, his children, and his friends, shall die, And like a dream, his ill-got riches fly: Nor less, or to insult the suppliant's cries, The guilt, or break through hospitable ties. Is there who, by incestuous passion led, Pollutes with joys unclean his brother's bed, Or who, regardless of his tender trust, To the poor helpless orphan proves unjust, Or, when the father's fatal day appears, His body bending through the weight of years, A son who views him with unduteous eyes, And words of comfort to his age denies,

Great Jove vindictive sees the impious train,
And, equal to their crimes, inflicts a pain.

These precepts be thy guide thro' life to steer:
Next learn the gods immortal to revere:
With unpolluted hands, and heart sincere,
Let from your berd or flock an off'ring rise:
Of the pure victim burn the white fat thighs;
And to your wealth confine the sacrifice.
Let the rich fumes of od'rous incense fly,
A grateful savour, to the pow'rs on high;
The due libation nor neglect to pay,
When ev'ning closes, or when dawns the day:
Then shall thy work, the gods thy friends, succeed;
Then may you purchase farms, nor sell through
Enjoy thy riches with a lib'ral soul, [nced.
Plenteous the feast, and smiling be the bowl;
No friend forget, nor entertain thy foe,
Nor let thy neighbour uninvited go.
Happy the man, with peace his days are crown'd,
Whose house an honest neighbourhood surround;
Of foreign harms he never sleeps afraid,
They, always ready, bring their willing aid;
Cheerful, should he some busy pressure feel,
They lend an aid beyond a kindred's zeal;
They never will conspire to blast his fame;
Secure he walks, unsully'd his good name:
Unhappy man, whom neighbours ill surround,
His oxen die oft by a treach'rous wound.
Whate'er you borrow of your neighbour's store,
Return the same in weight, if able, more;
So to yourself will you secure a friend;
He never after will refuse to lend.
Whatever by dishonest means you gain,
You purchase an equivalent of pain.

To all a love for love return: contend In virtuous acts to emulate your friend. Be to the good thy favours unconfin'd; Neglect a sordid, and ungrateful, mind. From all the gen'rous a respect command, While none regard the base ungiving hand: The man who gives from an unbounded breast, Though large the bounty, in himself is bless'd: Who ravishes another's right shall find, Though small the prey, a deadly sting behind. Content, and honestly, enjoy your lot, And often add to that already got; From little oft repcated much will rise, And, of thy toil the fruits, salute thine eyes. How sweet at home to have what life demands, The just reward of our industrious hands, To view our neighbour's bliss without desire, To dread not famine, with her aspect dire! Be these thy thoughts, to these thy heart incline, And lo! these blessings shall be surely thine.

When at your board your faithful friend you Without reserve, and lib'ral, be the treat: [greet, To stint the wine a frugal husband shows, When from the middle of the cask it flows. Do not, by mirth betray'd, your brother trust, Without a witness, he may prove unjust: Alike it is unsafe for men to be, With some too diffident, with some too free.

Let not a woman steal your heart away, By tender looks, and her apparel gay; When your abode she languishing inquires, Command your heart, and quench the kindling If love she vows, 'tis madness to believe, [fires; Turn from the thief, she charms but to deceive: Who does too rashly in a woman trust, Too late will find the wanton prove unjust.

Take a chaste matron, partner of your breast,
Contented live, of her alone possess'd;
Then shall you number many days in peace,
And with your children see your wealth increase;
Then shall a duteous careful heir survive,
To keep the honour of the house alive.

If large possessions are, in life, thy view,
These precepts, with assiduous care, pursue.

BOOK II.

THE ARGUMENT.

In this book the poet instructs his countrymen in the arts of agriculture and navigation, and in the management of the vintage: he illustrates the work with rural descriptions, and concludes with several religious precepts, founded on the custom and manners of his age.

WHEN the Pleiades, of Atlas born,
Before the Sun's arise illume the morn,
Apply the sickle to the ripen'd corn;
And when, attendant on the Sun's decline,
They in the ev'ning ether only shine,
Then is the season to begin to plough,
To yoke the oxen, and prepare to sow:
There is a time when forty days they lie,
And forty nights, conceal'd from human eye,
But in the course of the revolving year,

When the swain sharps the scythe, again appear.
This is the rule to the laborious swain,
Who dwells or near, or distant from, the main,
Whether the shady vale receives his toil,
And he manures the fat, the inland soil.

Would you the fruits of all your labours see,
Or plough, or sow, or reap, still naked be;
Then shall thy barns, by Ceres bless'd, appear
Full of the various produce of the year;
Nor shall the seasons then behold thee poor,
A mean dependant on another's store.
Though, foolish Perses, bending to thy pray'rs,
I lately heard thy plaints, and eas'd thy cares,
On me no longer for supplies depend,
For I no more shall give, no more shall lend.
Labour industrious, if you would succeed;
That men should labour have the gods decreed,
That with our wives and children we may live
Without th' assistance that our neighbours give,
That we may never know the pain of mind,
To ask for succour, and no succour find:
Twice, thrice, perhaps, they may your wants
supply;

But constant beggars teach them to deny;
Then wretched may you beg, and beg again,
And use the moving force of words in vain.
Such ills to shun, my counsels lay to heart;
Nor dread the debtor's chain, nor hunger's smart.
A house, and yoke of oxen, first provide,
A maid to guard your herds, and then a bride;
The house be furnish'd as thy need demands,
Nor want to borrow from a neighbour's hands.
While to support your wants abroad you roam,
Time glides away, and work stands still at home.
Your business ne'er defer from day to day,
Sorrows and poverty attend delay;
But lo! the careful man shall always find
Increase of wealth according to his mind.

When the hot season of the year is o'er
That draws the toilsome sweat from ev'ry pore,

When o'er our heads th' abated planet rolls
A shorter course, and visits distant poles,
When Jove descends in show'rs upon the plains,
And the parch'd earth is cheer'd with plenteous
rains,

When human bodies feel the grateful change,
And less a burden to themselves they range,
When the tall forest sheds her foliage round,
And with autumnal verdure strews the ground,
The bole is incorrupt, the timber good;
Then whet the sounding axe to fell the wood.
Provide a mortar three feet deep, and strong;
And let the pestle be three cubits long.

One foot in length next let the mallet be,
Ten spans the wain, seven feet her axletree;
of wood four crooked bits the wheel compose,
And give the length three spans to each of those.

From hill or field the hardest holm prepare,
To cut the part in which you place the share;
Thence your advantage will be largely found,
With that your oxen long may tear the ground;
And next, the skilful husbandman to show,
Fast pin the handle to the beam below:
Let the draught-beam of sturdy oak be made,
And for the handle rob the laurel shade;
Or, if the laurel you refuse to fell,

Seek out the elm, the elm will serve as well.
Two ploughs are needful; one let art bestow,
And one let nature to the service bow;
If use, or accident, the first destroy,
Its fellow in the furrow'd field employ.

Yoke from the herd two sturdy males, whose

age

Mature secures them from each other's rage;
For if too young they will unruly grow,
Unfinish'd leave the work, and break the plough:
These, and your labour shall the better thrive,
Let a good ploughman, year'd to forty, drive;
And see the careful husbandman be fed
With plenteous morsels, and of wholesome bread!
The slave who numbers fewer days, you'll find
Careless of work, and of a rambling mind;
Perhaps, neglectful to direct the plough,
He in one furrow twice the seed will sow.

Observe the crane's departing flight in time,
Who yearly soars to seek a southern clime,
Conscious of cold; when the shrill voice you hear,
Know the fit season for the plough is near;
Then he for whom no oxen graze the plains,
With aking heart, beholds the winter rains;
Be mindful then the sturdy ox to feed,
And careful keep within the useful breed.
You say, perhaps, you will entreat a friend
A yoke of oxen, and a plough, to lend:
He your request, if wise, will thus refuse,
"I have but two, and those I want to use;
To make a plough great is th' expense and care;
All these you should, in proper time, prepare."
Reproofs like these avoid; and, to behold
Your fields bright waving with their ears of gold,
Let unimprov'd no hour, in season, fly,
But with your servants plough, or wet, or dry;
And in the spring again to turn the soil
Observe; the summer shall reward your toil.
While light and fresh the glebe, insert the grain;
Then shall your children smile, nor you complain.
Prefer with zeal, when you begin to plough,
To Jove terrene, and Ceres chaste, the vow;
Then will the rural deities regard
Your welfare, and your piety reward.