Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/350

Roul'd from the Rock: His flabby Flanks decrease;
His Eyes are settled in a stupid peace.781
His bulk too weighty for his Thighs is grown;
And his unweildy Neck, hangs drooping down.
Now what avails his well-deserving Toil
To turn the Glebe; or smooth the rugged Soil!785
And yet he never supt in solemn State,
Nor undigested Feasts did urge his Fate;
Nor day, to Night, luxuriously did joyn;
Nor surfeited on rich Campanian Wine.
Simple his Bev'rage; homely was his Food;790
The wholsom Herbage, and the running Flood:
No dreadful Dreams awak'd him with affright;
His Pains by Day, secur'd his Rest by Night.
Twas then that Buffalo's, ill pair'd, were seen
To draw the Carr of Jove's Imperial Queen795
For want of Oxen: and the lab'ring Swain$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
Scratch'd with a Rake, a Furrow for his Grain:
And cover'd, with his hand, the shallow Seed again.
He Yokes himself, and up the Hilly height,799
With his own Shoulders, draws the Waggon's weight.
The nightly Wolf, that round th' Enclosure proul'd
To leap the Fence; now plots not on the Fold.
Tam'd with a sharper Pain. The fearful Doe$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
And flying Stag, amidst the Grey-Hounds go:
And round the Dwellings roam of Man, their fiercer Foe.
The scaly Nations of the Sea profound,806
Like Shipwreck'd Carcasses are driv'n aground: