Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How read more

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds read more

Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds are rolled
Its waves of emerald and gold.

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields read more

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers,
free from all anxieties of gain.
[Lat., Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
Solutus omni faenore.]

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for read more

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for every three acres of land.

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day read more

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with read more

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and, greatly independent, scorned
All the vile stores corruption can bestow.

Three acres and a cow.

Three acres and a cow.