GetPassage urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.10.32-3.10.40 urn:cts:latinLit:phi0959.phi001.perseus-eng2:3.10.32-3.10.40

Harrow'd his fields, and broke his clods, and sow'd,No corn appear'd, none to reward his pain,His labour and his wishes were in vain.For Ceres wand'red in the woods and groves,And often heard, and often told her loves:Then Crete alone a fruitful summer knew,Where'er the goddess came a harvest grew.Ida was grey with corn, the furious boarGrew fat with wheat, and wonder'd at the store: