HKB
And when their eager marrow first conceives The fire, in Spring-tide chiefly, for with Spring Warmth doth their frames revisit, then they stand All facing westward on the rocky heights, And of the gentle breezes take their fill; And oft unmated, marvellous to tell, But of the wind impregnate, far and wide O'er craggy height and lowly vale they scud, Not toward thy rising, Eurus, or the sun's, But westward and north-west, or whence up-springs Black Auster, that glooms heaven with rainy cold. Hence from their groin slow drips a poisonous juice, By shepherds truly named hippomanes, Hippomanes, fell stepdames oft have culled, And mixed with herbs and spells of baneful bode. Fast flies meanwhile the irreparable hour, As point to point our charmed round we trace. Enough of herds. This second task remains, The wool-clad flocks and shaggy goats to treat. Here lies a labour; hence for glory look, Brave husbandmen. Nor doubtfully know How hard it is for words to triumph here, And shed their lustre on a theme so slight: But I am caught by ravishing desire Above the lone Parnassian steep; I love To walk the heights, from whence no earlier track Slopes gently downward to Castalia's spring. Now, awful Pales, strike a louder tone. First, for the sheep soft pencotes I decree To browse in, till green summer's swift return; And that the hard earth under them with straw And handfuls of the fern be littered deep, Lest chill of ice such tender cattle harm With scab and loathly foot-rot. Passing thence I bid the goats with arbute-leaves be stored, And served with fresh spring-water, and their pens Turned southward from the blast, to face the suns Of winter, when Aquarius' icy beam Now sinks in showers upon the parting year. These too no lightlier our protection claim, Nor prove of poorer service, howsoe'er Milesian fleeces dipped in Tyrian reds Repay the barterer; these with offspring teem More numerous; these yield plenteous store of milk: The more each dry-wrung udder froths the pail, More copious soon the teat-pressed torrents flow. Ay, and on Cinyps' bank the he-goats too Their beards and grizzled chins and bristling hair Let clip for camp-use, or as rugs to wrap Seafaring wretches. But they browse the woods And summits of Lycaeus, and rough briers, And brakes that love the highland: of themselves Right heedfully the she-goats homeward troop Before their kids, and with plump udders clogged Scarce cross the threshold. Wherefore rather ye, The less they crave man's vigilance, be fain From ice to fend them and from snowy winds; Bring food and feast them with their branchy fare, Nor lock your hay-loft all the winter long. But when glad summer at the west wind's call Sends either flock to pasture in the glades, Soon as the day-star shineth, hie we then To the cool meadows, while the dawn is young, The grass yet hoary, and to browsing herds The dew tastes sweetest on the tender sward.