Procure a yoke of oxen, large and strong,
And rightly trained to haul the plow along.
Most cattle for this work are badly trained
Till they have some nine years or more attained.
Your plowman should be forty years of age,
One that has grown by long experience sage,
Well known to lead a sober, steady life,
And is not half distracted for a wife.
Young men are all unsteady, rakish churls,
And quite too fond of running after girls.
But when the crane, bound for the torrid climes,
Salutes you early with his grating chimes,
Plow and throw in your seed, his boding strain
Portends the approach of Winter's dismal reign.
Pen up the Stock in shelters close and warm,
Where they may feed, safe from the wintry storm.
Though tillage should your chief attention share,
Yet rearing stock demands especial care;
And so arrange your labors as to give
Them regular food, or they will cease to thrive.
Beyond a doubt the culture of the earth
Was the most highly honored at its birth;
For then, indeed, in spite of wind and weather,
Both man and master drove the plow together,
And scarce could wait, fired in their noble toil,
The morning's dawn to turn the generous soil.
Plow and sow early, let not Summer bring
Her march too quickly on the heels of Spring.
First send up prayers for a bounteous yield,
And vow to heav'n the first fruits of the field.
Plow briskly, too, and never once look back,
And whip your oxen if they grow too slack.
