ELEGY THE FIRST

A RUSTIC HOLIDAY


Give us good omen, friends! To-day we bless
With hallowed rites this dear, ancestral seat.
Let Bacchus his twin horns with clusters dress,
And Ceres clasp her brows with bursting wheat!

To-day no furrows! Both for field and man
Be sacred rest from delving toil and care!
With necks yoke-free, at mangers full of bran,
The tranquil steers shall nought but garlands bear.

Our tasks to-day are heaven's. No maid shall dare
Upon a distaff her deft hands employ.
Let none, too rash, our simple worship share,
Who wrought last eve at Venus' fleeting joy!

The gods claim chastity. Come clad in white,
And lave your palms at some clear fountain's brim!
Then watch the mild lamb at the altar bright,
Yon olive-cinctured choir close-following him!

"Ye Guardian Powers, who bless our native soil,