Page:The Farm and Fruit of Old a translation in verse of the 1st and 2nd Georgics of Virgil, by a market-gardener (1862).djvu/28

When tufts of harvest tassel o'er the plain,
And on the green stalk swells the milky grain? 365
Myself have seen what time the farmer bold
Would lead the reaper to the realms of gold,
E'en while they strew the barley-swathe—from far
Leaps the wild bluster of the winds at war: 369
Clean from the root the pregnant corn is riven,
Swept up on high, and dash'd across the heaven,
Away they fly, in the black whirlwind toss'd,
Light reed, and dancing sheaf, and harvest lost.
Ofttimes a host of waters march on high,
And ocean-clouds with tempest blur the sky; 375
The founts of heaven are burst, and floods of rain
Drown all the toils of beeves and smiles of grain;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$The dykes and fosses wax, and overpour,
The hollow rivers lift their crest and roar,
The ocean heaves and pants upon the shore.
In midnight of the tempest-clouds reveal'd, 381
The great Creator doth the thunder wield,
Beneath whose menace earth lies trembling pale,
The lions fly, the hearts of nations fail:
He, with the shaft of fire, in dust hath strawn 385
Athos, or Rhodopé, or high Ceraun: