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lls of Haemus cool, And shield me with his boughs' o'ershadowing might! Happy, who had the skill to understand Nature's hid causes, and beneath his feet All terrors cast, and death's relentless doom, And the loud roar of greedy Acheron. Blest too is he who knows the rural gods, Pan, old Silvanus, and the sister-nymphs! Him nor the rods of public power can bend, Nor kingly purple, nor fierce feud that drives Brother to turn on brother, nor descent Of Dacian from the Danube's leagued flood, Nor Rome's great State, nor kingdoms like to die; Nor hath he grieved through pitying of the poor, Nor envied him that hath. What fruit the boughs, And what the fields, of their own bounteous will Have borne, he gathers; nor iron rule of laws, Nor maddened Forum have his eyes beheld, Nor archives of the people. Others vex The darksome gulfs of Ocean with their oars, Or rush on steel: they press within the courts And doors of princes; one with havoc falls Upon a city and its hapless hearths, From gems
e, by what power the seas Swell from their depths, and, every barrier burst, Sink back upon themselves, why winter-suns So haste to dip 'neath ocean, or what check The lingering night retards. But if to these High realms of nature the cold curdling blood About my heart bar access, then be fields And stream-washed vales my solace, let me love Rivers and woods, inglorious. Oh for you Plains, and Spercheius, and Taygete, By Spartan maids o'er-revelled! Oh, for one, Would set me in deep dells of Haemus cool, And shield me with his boughs' o'ershadowing might! Happy, who had the skill to understand Nature's hid causes, and beneath his feet All terrors cast, and death's relentless doom, And the loud roar of greedy Acheron. Blest too is he who knows the rural gods, Pan, old Silvanus, and the sister-nymphs! Him nor the rods of public power can bend, Nor kingly purple, nor fierce feud that drives Brother to turn on brother, nor descent Of Dacian from the Danube's leagued flood, Nor Rome's great