GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3:20.1-20.20 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0472.phi001.perseus-eng3:20.1-20.20

I thuswise fashionèd by rustic artAnd from dried poplar-trunk (0 traveller!) hewn,This fieldlet, leftwards as thy glances fall,And my lord's cottage with his pauper garthProtect, repelling thieves' rapacious hands.In spring with vari-coloured wreaths I'm crown'd,In fervid summer with the glowing grain,Then with green vine-shoot and the luscious bunch,And glaucous olive-tree in bitter cold.The dainty she-goat from my pasture bearsHer milk-distended udders to the town:Out of my sheep-cotes ta'en the fatted lambSends home with silver right-hand heavily charged;And, while its mother lows, the tender calfBefore the temples of the Gods must bleed.Hence of such Godhead, (traveller !) stand in awe,Best it befits thee off to keep thy hands.Thy cross is ready, shaped as artless yard;"I'm willing, 'faith" (thou say'st) but 'faith here comesThe boor, and plucking forth with bended arm