Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Labour.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Labour.
See Bees. Industry.
All noble Things are difficult to gain,
And without Labour none can them attain.
Is Gold thy Aim? what mighty Pains attend?
Mountains are level'd and the Mines descend
To Earth's deep Center: tho' she hides her Store,
We tare her up, and reach the hidden Ore.
For shining Gems we cut the burning Zone,
Such Dangers are the Purchase of a Stone!
The fearful Farmer makes his yearly Vow,
And Pain still presseth the deceiving Plow.
In War no Danger's shunn'd, we fight for Spoil:
Ev'n lazy Luxury leads us on to Toil:
For Food and Cloths from East to West we run,
And Spend-thrifts take much Pains to be undone.—
And without Labour none can them attain.
Is Gold thy Aim? what mighty Pains attend?
Mountains are level'd and the Mines descend
To Earth's deep Center: tho' she hides her Store,
We tare her up, and reach the hidden Ore.
11
Such Dangers are the Purchase of a Stone!
The fearful Farmer makes his yearly Vow,
And Pain still presseth the deceiving Plow.
In War no Danger's shunn'd, we fight for Spoil:
Ev'n lazy Luxury leads us on to Toil:
For Food and Cloths from East to West we run,
And Spend-thrifts take much Pains to be undone.—
Thus to their Toils, in early Summer, run
The clust'ring Bees, and labour in the Sun:
Lead forth, in Colonies, their buzzing Race,
Or work the liquid Sweets, and thicken to a Mass.
The busy Nation flies from Flow'r to Flow'r,
And hoards, in curious Cells, the golden Store.
A chosen Troop before the Gate attends,
Heaves off the Burdens, and relieves their Friends:
Warm at the fragant Work, in Bands, they drive
The Drone, a lazy Robber, from the Hive.—
The clust'ring Bees, and labour in the Sun:
Lead forth, in Colonies, their buzzing Race,
Or work the liquid Sweets, and thicken to a Mass.
The busy Nation flies from Flow'r to Flow'r,
And hoards, in curious Cells, the golden Store.
A chosen Troop before the Gate attends,
Heaves off the Burdens, and relieves their Friends:
Warm at the fragant Work, in Bands, they drive
The Drone, a lazy Robber, from the Hive.—
So when the Pismires, an industrious Train,
Embody'd rob some golden Heap of Grain,
Studious e'er stormy Winter frowns, to lay
Safe in their darksom Cells the treasur'd Prey:
In one long Track, the dusky Legions lead
Their Prize in Triumph thro' the verdant Mead.
Here bending with the Load, a panting Throng
With Force conjoyn'd heave some huge Grain along.
Some, lash the Stragglers to the Task assign'd,
Some, to their Ranks, the Bands that lay behind:
They crowd the peopled Path in thick Array,
Glow at the Work, and darken all the Way.—
Embody'd rob some golden Heap of Grain,
Studious e'er stormy Winter frowns, to lay
Safe in their darksom Cells the treasur'd Prey:
In one long Track, the dusky Legions lead
Their Prize in Triumph thro' the verdant Mead.
Here bending with the Load, a panting Throng
With Force conjoyn'd heave some huge Grain along.
Some, lash the Stragglers to the Task assign'd,
Some, to their Ranks, the Bands that lay behind:
They crowd the peopled Path in thick Array,
Glow at the Work, and darken all the Way.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |