But when the House-carrier1
climbs up the plants from the earth to escape the Pleiades, then it is no longer the season for digging vineyards, but to whet your sickles and rouse up your slaves. Avoid shady seats and sleeping until dawn
in the harvest season, when the sun scorches the body. Then be busy and bring home your fruits, getting up early to make your livelihood sure. For dawn takes away a third part of your work, dawn advances a man on his journey and advances him in his work,—
dawn which appears and sets many men on their road, and puts yokes on many oxen.
But when the artichoke flowers,2
and the chirping grass-hopper sits in a tree and pours down his shrill song continually from under his wings in the season of wearisome heat,
then goats are plumpest and wine sweetest; women are most wanton, but men are feeblest, because Sirius parches head and knees and the skin is dry through heat. But at that time let me have a shady rock and wine of Biblis
a clot of curds and milk of drained goats with the flesh of a heifer fed in the woods, that has never calved, and of firstling kids; then also let me drink bright wine, sitting in the shade, when my heart is satisfied with food, and so, turning my head to face the fresh Zephyr,
from the everflowing spring which pours down unfouled, thrice pour an offering of water, but make a fourth libation of wine.
Set your slaves to winnow Demeter's holy grain, when strong Orion3
first appears, on a smooth threshing-floor in an airy place.
Then measure it and store it in jars. And so soon as you have safely stored all your stuff indoors, I bid you put your bondman out of doors and seek out a servant-girl with no children;—for a servant with a child to nurse is troublesome. And look after the dog with jagged teeth; do not grudge him his food,
or some time the Day-sleeper4
may take your stuff. Bring in fodder and litter so as to have enough for your oxen and mules. After that, let your men rest their poor knees and unyoke your pair of oxen.