Large and thrice plough’d, the soil being soft, and of a wealthy yield; And many men at plough he made, that drave earth here and there, And turn’d up stitches orderly; at whose end when they were, A fellow ever gave their hands full cups of luscious wine; Which emptied, for another stitch, the earth they undermine, And long till th’ utmost bound be reach’d of all the ample close. The soil turn’d up behind the plough, all black like earth arose, Though forg’d of nothing else but gold, and lay in show as light As if it had been plough’d indeed, miraculous to sight. There grew by this a field of corn, high, ripe, where reapers wrought, And let thick handfuls fall to earth, for which some bought Bands, and made sheaves. Three binders stood, and took the handfuls reap’d From boys that gather’d quickly up, and by them armfuls heap’d. Amongst these at furrow’s end, the king stood pleas’d at heart, Said no word, but his sceptre show’d. And from him, much apart, His harvest-bailiffs underneath an oak a feast prepar’d And having kill’d a mighty ox, stood there to see him shar’d Which women for their harvest folks (then come to sup) had dress’d, And many white wheat-cakes bestow’d, to make it up a feast. He set near this a vine of gold, that crack’d beneath the weight Of bunches black with being ripe; to keep which at the height, A silver rail ran all along, and round about it flow’d An azure moat, and to this guard, a quickset was bestow’d Of tin, one only path to all, by which the pressmen came In time of vintage. Youths and maids, that bore not yet the flame Of manly Hymen, baskets bore, of grapes and mellow fruit. A lad that sweetly touch’d a harp, to which his voice did suit, Center’d the circles of that youth, all whose skill could not do The wanton’s pleasure to their minds, that danc’d, sung, whistled too. A herd of oxen then he carv’d, with high rais’d heads, forg’d all Of gold and tin, for colour mix’d, and bellowing from their stall Rush’d to their pastures at a flood, that echo’d all their throats, Exceeding swift, and full of reeds; and all in yellow coats Four herdsmen follow’d; after whom, nine mastiffs went. In head Of all the herd, upon a bull, that deadly bellowéd, Two horrid lions rampt, and seiz’d, and tugg’d off bellowing still; Both men and dogs came; yet they tore the hide, and lapp’d their fill Of black blood, and the entrails ate. In vain the men assay’d To set their dogs on; none durst pinch, but cur-like stood and bay’d In both the faces of their kings, and all their onsets fled. Then in a passing pleasant vale, the famous Artsman fed, Upon a goodly pasture ground, rich flocks of white-fleec’d sheep, Built stables, cottages, and cotes, that did the shepherds keep From wind and weather. Next to these, he cut a dancing place, All full of turnings, that was like the admirable maze For fair-hair’d Ariadne made, by cunning Dædalus; And in it youths and virgins danc’d, all young and beauteous, And glewéd in another’s palms.