But chief you'll wonder, that they ne'er are led
To the soft pleasures of the genial bed, 230
Their strength unwasted by the lewd delight:
Nor are their young by throes brought forth to light.
From leaves and aromatic herbs the bees
With busy beak the puny people seize:
A King, and small Quirites they ordain; 235
Restore the palaces, and waxen reign.
Oft, as they roam, their wings on flints they tear,
And, self-devoted, breath their lives in air,
Laden with sweets: of flow'rs so strong the rage,
So full does glory all their souls engage. 240
Yet, tho' their life be bounded by the space
Of sev'n short summers, endless is the race;
The fortune of their house lasts firm thro' years,
And a long line of sires on sires appears.
Not Ægypt, nor the realms Hydaspes laves, 245
Lydia of vast extent, nor Parthia's slaves
Eye with such awe their King: while he remains
Safe in their sight, a perfect union reigns;
Dead, all is anarchy: wild rage impels
To spoil the stores, and rend the wattled cells. 250
Director of their works rever'd he stands,
Hem'd on all sides, the gaze of murmuring bands:
Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/113
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Book IV.
Of VIRGIL.
101
Born