Though hail-storms on the vineyard beat,Though crops deceive, though trees complain,One while of showers, one while of heat,One while of winter's barbarous reign.Fish feel the narrowing of the mainFrom sunken piles, while on the strandContractors with their busy trainLet down huge stones, and lords of landAffect the sea: but fierce AlarmCan clamber to the master's side:Black Cares can up ihe galley swarm,And close behind the horseman ride.If Phrygian marbles soothe not pain,Nor star-bright purple's costliest wear,Nor vines of true Falernian strain,Nor Achaemenian spices rare,Why with rich gate and pillard rangeUpbuild new mansions, twice as high,Or why my Sabine vale exchangeFor more laborious luxury?