The young plant fix its frozen root to earth. Best sow your vineyards when in blushing Spring Comes the white bird long-bodied snakes abhor, Or on the eve of autumn's earliest frost, Ere the swift sun-steeds touch the wintry Signs, While summer is departing. Spring it is Blesses the fruit-plantation, Spring the groves; In Spring earth swells and claims the fruitful seed. Then Aether, sire omnipotent, leaps down With quickening showers to his glad wife's embrace, And, might with might commingling, rears to life All germs that teem within her; then resound With songs of birds the greenwood-wildernesses, And in due time the herds their loves renew; Then the boon earth yields increase, and the fields Unlock their bosoms to the warm west winds; Soft moisture spreads o'er all things, and the blades Face the new suns, and safely trust them now; The vine-shoot, fearless of the rising south, Or mighty north winds driving rain from heaven, Bursts into bud, and every leaf unfolds. Even so, methinks, when Earth to being sprang, Dawned the first days, and such the course they held; 'Twas Spring-tide then, ay, Spring, the mighty world Was keeping: Eurus spared his wintry blasts, When first the flocks drank sunlight, and a race Of men like iron from the hard glebe arose, And wild beasts thronged the woods, and stars the heaven. Nor could frail creatures bear this heavy strain, Did not so large a respite interpose 'Twixt frost and heat, and heaven's relenting arms Yield earth a welcome. For the rest, whate'er The sets thou plantest in thy fields, thereon Strew refuse rich, and with abundant earth Take heed to hide them, and dig in withal Rough shells or porous stone, for therebetween Will water trickle and fine vapour creep, And so the plants their drooping spirits raise. Aye, and there have been, who with weight of stone Or heavy potsherd press them from above; This serves for shield in pelting showers, and this When the hot dog-star chaps the fields with drought. The slips once planted, yet remains to cleave The earth about their roots persistently, And toss the cumbrous hoes, or task the soil With burrowing plough-share, and ply up and down Your labouring bullocks through the vineyard's midst, Then too smooth reeds and shafts of whittled wand, And ashen poles and sturdy forks to shape, Whereby supported they may learn to mount, Laugh at the gales, and through the elm-tops win From story up to story. Now while yet The leaves are in their first fresh infant growth, Forbear their frailty, and while yet the bough Shoots joyfully toward heaven, with loosened rein Launched on the void, assail it not as yet With keen-edged sickle, but let the leaves alone Be culled with clip of fingers here and there. But when they clasp the elms with sturdy trunks Erect, then strip the leaves off, prune the boughs; Sooner they shrink from steel, but then put forth The arm of power, and stem the branchy tide.