Turn on the prudent ant thy heedless eyes,
Observe her labours, sluggard! and be wise.
No stern command, no monitory voice
Prescribes her duties or directs her choice;
Yet, timely provident, she hastes away,
To snatch the blessings of a plenteous day;
When fruitful Summer loads the teeming plain,
She crops the harvest, and she stores the grain.

How long shall Sloth usurp thy useless hours,
Unnerve thy vigour, and unchain thy powers? 10
While artful shades thy downy couch inclose,
And soft solicitation courts repose,
Amidst the drowsy charms of dull delight,
Year chases year with unremitted flight;
Till Want now following, fraudulent and slow,
Shall spring to seize thee like an ambush'd foe.

* * * * *


HORACE,

LIB. IV. ODE VII. TRANSLATED.

The snow, dissolved, no more is seen,
The fields and woods, behold! are green.
The changing year renews the plain,
The rivers know their banks again;
The sprightly Nymph and naked Grace