The Georgics [English] | Page 7

the heifer snuffs the gale?Through gaping nostrils, or about the meres?Shrill-twittering flits the swallow, and the frogs?Crouch in the mud and chant their dirge of old.?Oft, too, the ant from out her inmost cells,?Fretting the narrow path, her eggs conveys;?Or the huge bow sucks moisture; or a host?Of rooks from food returning in long line?Clamour with jostling wings. Now mayst thou see?The various ocean-fowl and those that pry?Round Asian meads within thy fresher-pools,?Cayster, as in eager rivalry,?About their shoulders dash the plenteous spray,?Now duck their head beneath the wave, now run?Into the billows, for sheer idle joy?Of their mad bathing-revel. Then the crow?With full voice, good-for-naught, inviting rain,?Stalks on the dry sand mateless and alone.?Nor e'en the maids, that card their nightly task,?Know not the storm-sign, when in blazing crock?They see the lamp-oil sputtering with a growth?Of mouldy snuff-clots.
So too, after rain,?Sunshine and open skies thou mayst forecast,?And learn by tokens sure, for then nor dimmed?Appear the stars' keen edges, nor the moon?As borrowing of her brother's beams to rise,?Nor fleecy films to float along the sky.?Not to the sun's warmth then upon the shore?Do halcyons dear to Thetis ope their wings,?Nor filthy swine take thought to toss on high?With scattering snout the straw-wisps. But the clouds?Seek more the vales, and rest upon the plain,?And from the roof-top the night-owl for naught?Watching the sunset plies her 'lated song.?Distinct in clearest air is Nisus seen?Towering, and Scylla for the purple lock?Pays dear; for whereso, as she flies, her wings?The light air winnow, lo! fierce, implacable,?Nisus with mighty whirr through heaven pursues;?Where Nisus heavenward soareth, there her wings?Clutch as she flies, the light air winnowing still.?Soft then the voice of rooks from indrawn throat?Thrice, four times, o'er repeated, and full oft?On their high cradles, by some hidden joy?Gladdened beyond their wont, in bustling throngs?Among the leaves they riot; so sweet it is,?When showers are spent, their own loved nests again?And tender brood to visit. Not, I deem,?That heaven some native wit to these assigned,?Or fate a larger prescience, but that when?The storm and shifting moisture of the air?Have changed their courses, and the sky-god now,?Wet with the south-wind, thickens what was rare,?And what was gross releases, then, too, change?Their spirits' fleeting phases, and their breasts?Feel other motions now, than when the wind?Was driving up the cloud-rack. Hence proceeds?That blending of the feathered choirs afield,?The cattle's exultation, and the rooks'?Deep-throated triumph.
But if the headlong sun?And moons in order following thou regard,?Ne'er will to-morrow's hour deceive thee, ne'er?Wilt thou be caught by guile of cloudless night.?When first the moon recalls her rallying fires,?If dark the air clipped by her crescent dim,?For folks afield and on the open sea?A mighty rain is brewing; but if her face?With maiden blush she mantle, 'twill be wind,?For wind turns Phoebe still to ruddier gold.?But if at her fourth rising, for 'tis that?Gives surest counsel, clear she ride thro' heaven?With horns unblunted, then shall that whole day,?And to the month's end those that spring from it,?Rainless and windless be, while safe ashore?Shall sailors pay their vows to Panope,?Glaucus, and Melicertes, Ino's child.?The sun too, both at rising, and when soon?He dives beneath the waves, shall yield thee signs;?For signs, none trustier, travel with the sun,?Both those which in their course with dawn he brings,?And those at star-rise. When his springing orb?With spots he pranketh, muffled in a cloud,?And shrinks mid-circle, then of showers beware;?For then the South comes driving from the deep,?To trees and crops and cattle bringing bane.?Or when at day-break through dark clouds his rays?Burst and are scattered, or when rising pale?Aurora quits Tithonus' saffron bed,?But sorry shelter then, alack I will yield?Vine-leaf to ripening grapes; so thick a hail?In spiky showers spins rattling on the roof.?And this yet more 'twill boot thee bear in mind,?When now, his course upon Olympus run,?He draws to his decline: for oft we see?Upon the sun's own face strange colours stray;?Dark tells of rain, of east winds fiery-red;?If spots with ruddy fire begin to mix,?Then all the heavens convulsed in wrath thou'lt seeStorm?-clouds and wind together. Me that night?Let no man bid fare forth upon the deep,?Nor rend the rope from shore. But if, when both?He brings again and hides the day's return,?Clear-orbed he shineth,idly wilt thou dread?The storm-clouds, and beneath the lustral North?See the woods waving. What late eve in fine?Bears in her bosom, whence the wind that brings?Fair-weather-clouds, or what the rain South?Is meditating, tokens of all these?The sun will give thee. Who dare charge the sun?With leasing? He it is who warneth oft?Of hidden broils at hand and treachery,?And secret swelling of the waves of war.?He too it was, when Caesar's light was quenched,?For Rome had pity, when his bright head he veiled?In iron-hued darkness, till a godless age?Trembled for night eternal; at that time?Howbeit earth also, and