Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/57

 

High as to heav'n 'his towring top ascends, 325
So low his root to hell's dark regions tends.
Hence on his strength keen winters waste their pow'r,
The roaring tempest, and the rattling show'r;
Unmov'd he mocks their rage; nor knows decay
While men and generations pass away: 330
On all sides round his sturdy arms display'd,
He stands, and bears a mighty weight of shade.

Let not your vineyard toward the west incline,
Nor mix the hazel with your rows of vine:
The topmost shoots reject, and (such the love 335
Of earth) take not your cuttings from above.
Beware your plants with blunted steel to wound,
Nor let wild olives creep into your ground.
Oft from the careless hinds a casual spark
Falls, and, first lurking in the unctuous bark, 340
Catches the stem, then creeping up on high
Preys on the leaves, and crackles in the sky:
From bough to bough the conqu'ring ruin strays,
Reigns o'er the top sublime, in one bright blaze
Wraps all the grove, and, thick with pitchy night,
Whirls dusky volumes up th' ethereal height: 346
Chief if, a storm descending on the wood,
The winds before them urge the fiery flood.

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