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When with their domes the slow-pac'd snails
retreat,

Beneath some foliage, from the burning heat
Of the Pleiades, your tools prepare;

The ripen'd harvest then demands your care.
Now fly the jocund shades your morning sleep,
And constant to their work your servants keep;
All other pleasures to your duty yield;
The harvest calls, haste early to the field.
The morning workman always best succeeds;
The morn the reaper, and the trav'ler, speeds:
But when the thistle wide begins to spread,
And rears in triumph his offensive head,
When in the shady boughs, with quiv'ring wings,
The grasshopper all day continual sings,
The season when the Dog resumes his reign,
Weakens the nerves of man and burns the brain,
Then the fat flesh of goats is wholesome food,
And to the heart the gen'rous wine is good;
Then nature through the softer sex does move,
And stimulates the fair to acts of love:
Then in the shade avoid the mid-day sun,
Where zephyrs breathe, and living fountains run;
There pass the sultry hours, with friends, away,
And frolic out, in harmless mirth, the day;
With country cates your homely table spread,
The goat's new milk, and cakes of milk your
bread;
[meat;
The flesh of beeves, which brouse the trees, your
Nor spare the tender flesh of kids to eat;
With Byblian wine the rural feast be crown'd;
Three parts of water, let the bowl go round.

Forget not, when Orion first appears,

To make your servants thresh the sacred ears;
Upon the level floor the harvest lay,
Where a soft gale may blow the chaff away;
Then, of your labour to compute the gain,
Before you fill the vessels, mete the grain.
Sweep up the chaff, to make your work complete;
The chaff, and straw, the ox and mule will eat.
When in the year's provision you have laid,
Take home a single man, and se vant-maid;
Among your workmen let this care be shown
To one who has no mansion of his own.
Be sure a sharp-tooth'd cur well fed to keep,
Your house's guard, while you in safety sleep.
The harvest pass'd, and thus by Ceres bless'd,
Unyoke the beast, and give your servants rest.
Orion and the Dog, each other nigh,
Together mounted to the midmost sky,
When in the rosy morn Arcturus shines,
Then pluck the clusters from the parent vines;
Forget not next the ripen'd grapes to lay
Ten nights in air, nor take them in by day;
Five more remember, ere the wine is made,
To let them lie, to mellow in the shade;
And in the sixth briskly yourself employ,
To cask the gift of Bacchus, sire of joy.
Next, in the round, do not to plough forget,
When the Seven Virgins, and Orion, set:
Thus an advantage always shall appear,
In ev'ry labour of the various year.

If o'er your mind prevails the love of gain,
And tempts you to the dangers of the main,
Yet in her harbour safe the vessel keep,
When strong Orion chases to the deep
The Virgin Stars; then the winds war aloud,
And veil the ocean with a sable cloud:
Then round the bark, already haul'd on shore,
Lay stones, to fix her when the tempests roar;

But first forget not well the kell to drain;
And draw the pin to save her from the rain.
Furl the ship's wings, her tackling home convey,
And o'er the smoke the well made rudder lay.
With patience wait for a propitious gale,
And a calm season to unfurl the sail;
Then lanch the swift-wing'd vessel on the main,
With a fit burden to return with gain.
So our poor father toil'd his hours away,
Careful to live in the unhappy day;
He, foolish Perses, spent no time in vain,
But fled misfortunes, through the wat❜ry plain;
He, from Æolian Cuma, th' ocean pass'd,
Here, in his sable bark, arriv'd at last.
Not far from Helicon he fix'd his race,
In Ascra's village, miserable place!
How comfortless the winter season there!
And cheerless, Ascra, is thy summer air.

O! Perses, may'st thou ne'er forget thy sire,
But let thy breast his good example fire:
The proper business of each season mind;
And O! be cautious when you trust the wind.
If large the vessel, and her lading large,
And if the seas prove faithful to their charge,
Great are your gains; but, by one evil blast,
Away your hopes are with your venture cast.
If diligent to live, from debtors free,
You rashly are, resolv'd to trade by sea,
To my instructions an attention pay,
And learn the courses of the liquid way;
Though nor to build, nor guide a ship, I know,
I'll teach you when the sounding main to plow.
Once I have cross'd the deep, and not before,
Nor since, from Aulis to Euboea's shore,
From Aulis, where th' assembled Greeks lay bound,
All arm'd, for Troy, for beauteous dames re-
nown'd:

At Chalcis, there, the youth of noble mind,
For so their great forefather had enjoin'd,
The games decreed, all sacred to the grave
Of king Amphidamas, the wise and brave;
A victor there in song the prize I bore,
A well-ear'd tripod, to my native shore;
Which to the sacred Heliconian nine
I off r'd grateful for their gift divine,
Where with the love of verse I first was fir'd,
Where by the heav'nly maids I was inspir'd;
To them I owe, to them alone I owe,
What of the seas, or of the stars, I know;
Mine is the pow'r to tell, by them reveal'd,
The will of Jove, tremendous with his shield;
To them, who taught me first, to them belong
The blooming honours of th' immortal song.

When, from the tropic of the summer's sun,
Full fifty days and nights their course have run,
Fearless of danger, for the voy'ge prepare,
Smooth is the ocean, and serene the air:
Then you the bark, safe with her freight, may
view,

And gladsome as the day the joyful crew,
Unless great Jove, the king of gods, or he,
Neptune, that shakes the earth, and rules the sea,
The two immortal pow'rs on whom the end
Of mortals, good and bad, alike depend,
Should jointly, or alone, their force employ,
And, in a luckless hour, the ship destroy:
If, free from such mischance, the vessel flies,
O'er a calm sea, beneath indulgent skies,
Let nothing long thee from thy home detain,
But measure, quickly, measure back the main.

Haste your return before the vintage pass'd,
Prevent th' autumnal show'rs, and southern blast,
Or you, too late a penitent, will find
A ruffled ocean, and unfriendly wind.
Others there are who choose to hoist the sail,
And plough the sea, before a spring-tide gale,
When first the footsteps of the crow are seen,
Clearly as on the trees the budding green:
But then, may my advice prevail, you'll keep
Your vessel safe at land, nor trust the deep;
Many, surprising weakness of the mind,
Tempt all the perils of the sea and wind,
Face death in all the terrours of the main,
Seeking, the soul of wretched mortals, gain.
Would'st thou be safe, my cautions be thy guide;
'Tis sad to perish in the boist'rous tide.
When for the voy'ge your vessel leaves the shore,
Trust in her hollow sides not half your store;
The less your loss should she return no more:
With all your stock how dismal would it be
To have the cargo perish in the sea!

A load, you know, too pond'rous for the wain,
Will crush the axletree, and spoil the grain.
Let ev'ry action prove a mean confess'd;
A moderation is, in all, the best.

Next to my counsels an attention pay,
To form your judgment for the nuptial day.
When you have number'd thrice ten years in
time,

The age mature when manhood dates his prime,
With caution choose the partner of your bed:
Whom fifteen springs have crown'd, a virgin
wed.

Let prudence now direct your choice; a wife
Is or a blessing, or a curse, in life;
Her father, mother, know, relations, friends,
For on her education much depends:
If all are good, accept the maiden bride;
Then form her manners, and her actions guide:
A life of bliss succeeds the happy choice;
Nor shall your friends lament, nor foes rejoice.
Wretched the man condemn'd to drag the chain
What restless ev'nings his, what days of pain!
Of a luxurious mate, a wanton dame,
That ever burns with an insatiate flame,
A wife who seeks to revel out the nights
In sumptuous banquets, and in stol'n delights:
Ah! wretched mortal! though in body strong,
Thy constitution cannot serve thee long;
Old age, vexatious, shall o'ertake thee soon;
Thine is the ev'n of life before the noor.
Observe in all you do, and all you say,
Regard to the immortal gods to pay.
First in your friendship let your brother stand,
So nearly join'd in blood, the strictest band;
Or should another be your heart's ally,
Let not a fault of thine dissolve the tie;
Nor e'er debase the friendship with a lie.
Should he, offensive, or in deed, or specch,
First in the sacred union make the breach,
To punish him may your resentments tend;
For who more guilty than a faithless friend?
But if, repentant of his breach of trust,

The self-accuser thinks your ven eance just,
And humbly begs you would no more complain,
Sink your resentments, and be friends again;
Or the poor wretch, all sorrowful to part,
Sighs for another friend to ease his heart.

Whatever rage your boiling heart sustains,
Let not the face disclose your inward pains.

Be your companions o'er the social bowl
The few selected, each a virtuous soul.
Never a friend among the wicked go,
Nor ever join to be the good man's foe.

When you behold a man by fortune poor,
Let him not leave with sharp rebukes the door:
The treasure of the tongue, in ev'ry cause,
With moderation us'd, obtains applause:
What of another you severely say
May amply be return'd another day.

When you are summon'd to the public feast,
Go with a willing mind a ready guest;
Grudge not the charge, the burden is but small;
Good is the custom, and it pleases all.

When the libation of black wine you bring,
A morning off'ring to the heav'nly king,
With hands unclean if you prefer the pray'r,
Jove is incens'd, your vows are lost in air;
So all th' immortal pow'rs on whom we call,
Af with polluted hands, are deaf to all.

When you would have your urine pass away,
Stand not upright before the eye of day;
And scatter not your water as you go,
Nor let it, when you're naked, from you flow:
In either case 'tis an unseemly sight:
The gods observe alike by day and night:
The man that we devout and wise may call
Sits in that act, or streams against a wall

Whate'er you do in amorous delight,
Be all transacted in the veil of night;
And when, transported, to your wife's embrace
You haste, pollute no consecrated place;
Nor seek to taste her beauties when you part
From a sad fun'ral with a heavy heart:
When from the joyous feast you come all gay,
In her fair arms revel the night away.

When to the rivulet to bathe you go,
Whose lucid currents, never ceasing, flow,
E're to deface the stream, you leave the land,
With the pure limpid waters cleanse each band;
Then on the lovely surface fix your look,
And supplicate the guardians of the brook:
Who in the river thinks himself secure,
With malice at his heart, and hands impure,
Too late a penitent, shall find, ere long,
By what the gods inflict, his rashness wrong.

When to the gods your solemn vows you pay,
Strictly attend while at the feast you stay;
Nor the black iron to your hands apply,
From the fresh parts to pare the useless dry.

The bowl, from which you the libation pour
To Heav'n, profane not in the social hour:
Who things devote to vulgar use employ,
Those men some dreadful vengance shall destroy.

Never begin to build a mansion seat,
Unless you're sure to make the work complete;
Lest, on th' unfinish'd roof high perch'd, the crow
Croak horrid, and foretel approaching woe.

'Tis hurtful in the footed jar to eat,
Till purify'd: nor in it bathe your feet.
Who in a slothful way his children rears,
Will see them feeble in their riper years.

Never by acts effeminate disgrace
Yourself, nor bathe your body in the place
Where women bathe; for time and custom can
Soften your heart to acts beneath a man.

When on the sacred rites you fix your eyes, Deride not, in your breast, the sacrifice; For know, the god, to whom the flames aspire, May punish you severely in his ire.

Sacred the fountains, and the seas, esteem, Nor by indecent acts pollute their stream.

These precepts keep, fond of a virtuous name, And shun the loud reports of evil fame: Fame is an ill you may with ease obtain, A sad oppression to be borne with pain; And when you would the noisy clamours drown, You'll find it hard to lay your burden down: Fame, of whatever kind, not wholly dies, A goddess she, and strengthens as she flies.

BOOK III.

THE ARGUMENT.

The poet here distinguishes holy days from other, and what are propitious, and what not, for dif ferent works, and concludes with a short recommendation of religion and morality.

YOUR servants to a just observance train
Of days, as Heav'n and human rites ordain;
Great Jove, with wisdom, o'er the year presides,
Directs the seasons, and the moments guides.

Of ev'ry month, the most propitious day,
The thirtieth choose, your labours to survey;
And the due wages to your servants pay.
The first of ev'ry moon we sacred deem,
Alike the fourth throughout the year esteem;
: And in the seventh Apollo we adore,

In which the golden god Latona bore;
Two days succeeding these extend your cares,
Uninterrupted, in your own affairs;
Nor in the next two days, but one, delay
The work in hand, the bus'ness of the day,
Of which th' eleventh we propitious hold
To reap the corn, the twelfth to shear the fold;
And then behold, with her industrious train,
The ant, wise reptile, gather in the grain;
Then you may see, suspended in the air,
The careful spider his domain prepare,
And while the artist spins the cobweb dome
The matron cheerful plies the loom at home.
Forget not in the thirteenth to refrain

From sowing, lest your work should prove in vain;
Though then the grain may find a barren soil,
The day is grateful to the planter's toil :
Not so the sixteenth to the planter's care;
A day unlucky to the new-born fair,
Alike unhappy to the married then;
A day propitious to the birth of men:
The sixth the same both to the man and maid;
Then secret vows are made and nymphs betray'd;
The fair by soothing words are captives led;
The gossip's tale is told, detraction spread;
The kid to castrate, and the ram, we hold
Propitious now; alike to pen the fold.
Geld in the eighth the goat, and lowing steer;
Nor in the twelfth to geld the mule-colt fear.
The offspring male born in the twentieth prize,
'Tis a great day, he shall be early wise.
Happy the man-child in the tenth day born;
Happy the virgin in the fourteenth morn;
Then train the mule obedient to your hand,
And teach the snarling cur his lord's command;
Then make the bleating flocks their master know,
And bend the horned oxen to the plough.

VOL. XX.

What in the twenty-fourth you do, beware;
And the fourth day requires an equal care;
Theu, then, be circumspect in all your ways,
Woes, complicated woes, attend the days.
When, resolute to change a single life,
You wed, on the fourth day lead home your wife;
But first observe the feather'd race that fly,
Remarking well the happy augury.

The fifths of ev'ry month your care require,
Days full of trouble, and afflictions dire;
For then the Furies take their round, 'tis said,
And heap their vengeance on the perjur'd head.
In the seventeenth prepare the level floor;
And then of Ceres thresh the sacred store;
In the same day, and when the timber's good,
Fell, for the bedpost, and the ship, the wood.
The vessel, suff'ring by the sea and air,
Survey all o'er, and in the fourth repair.
In the nineteenth 'tis better to delay,
Till afternoon, the business of the day.
Uninterrupted in the ninth pursue
The work in hand, a day propitious through;
Themselves the planters prosp'rous then employ;
To either sex in birth, a day of joy.

The twenty-ninth is best, observe the rule,
Known but to few, to yoke the ox and mule;
'Tis proper then to yoke the flying steed; ·
But few, alas! these wholesome truths can read;
Then you may fill the cask, nor fill in vain;
Then draw the swift ship to the sable main.
To pierce the cask till the fourteenth delay,
Of all most sacred next the twentieth day;
After the twentieth day few of the rest
We sacred deem, of that the morn is best.
These are the days of which the observance can
Bring great advantage to the race of man;
The rest unnam'd indiff'rent pass away,
And nought important marks the vulgar day:
Some one commend, and some another praise,
But most by guess, for few are wise in days:
One cruel as a stepmother we find,
And one as an indulgent mother kind.

O! happy mortal, happy he, and bless'd,
Whose wisdom here is by his acts confess'd;
Who lives all blameless to immortal eyes,
Who prudently consults the auguries,
Nor, by transgression, works his neighbour pain,
Nor ever gives him reason to complain.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE ANCIENT
GREEK MONTH.

I BELIEVE it will be necessary, for the better understanding the following table, to set in a clear light the ancient Greek month, as we may reasonably conclude it stood in the days of Hesiod, confining ourselves to the last book of his Works and Days.

The poet makes the month contain thirty days, which thirty days he divides into three parts: the first he calls ισάμενο, οι ιςάμενο μηνος, in the genitive case, because of some other word which is commonly joined requiring it to be of that case; the root of which, 157 or 15w, signifies, I erect, I set up, I settle, &c. and Hemy Stephens interprets the words 15age ponos, ineunte mense, the entrance of the month, in which sense the poet uses them; which entrance is the first decade, or first ten days. The second he calls MECHYTOS,

3 с

which is from μήσου, I am in the midst, meaning the middle decade of the month. The third part he calls fotos, from 8w, which is from tw, or q9w, waste away, meaning the decline, or last decade, of the month. Sometimes these words are used in the nominative case.

Before I leave these remarks I shall show the manner of expression, of one day, in each decade, from the last book of our poet, which will give a clear idea of all.

Ελλη δ' η μεσση μαλ' ασύμφορος εςι φυτοισιν. Ver. 8.
The middle sixth is unprofitable to plants.
That is, the sixth day of the middle decade.

πεφύλαξε δε θυμω
Τελαδ' αλευσθαι φθίνοντος θ' ιςαμένα τε Ver. 53.
Keep in your mind to shun the fourth of the en-
trance, and end, of the month. That is, the fourth
of the entrance, or first decade, and the fourth of
the end, or last decade.

It is proper to observe that those days which are blanks are, by our poet, called indifferent days, days of no importance, either good or bad. It is likewise remarkable, that he makes some days both holy days and working days, as the fourth, fourteenth, and twentieth: but, to clear this, Le Clerc tells us, from our learned countryman Selden, that pov nag, though litterally a holy day, does not always signify a festival, but often a day propitious to us in our undertakings.

A TABLE OF THE ANCIENT GREEK
MONTH, AS IN THE LAST BOOK OF THE
WORKS AND DAYS OF HESIOD.

DECADE I.

1. Day of decade I. Holy day.

2.

3.

9. Luckiest in the afternon.

10. Happy for the birth of men. Most prop tious in the morning. A holy day.

DECADE III.

1. Day of decade III, or 21st of the month. 2.

3.

4.
5.

6.

7.

8.

9. Yoke the ox, the mule, and the horse. F the vessels. Lanch the ship.

10. Look over the business of the whole month. and pay the servants their wages.

Those days which are called holy days in the Table are, in the original, ugova

A VIEW OF THE WORKS AND DAS

Now we have gone through the Works and Days, it may possibly contribute, in some degree, to the profit and delight of the reader to take a view of the poem as we have it delivered down, to us. I shall first consider it as an ancient pree, and, in that light, enter into the merit and estr that it reasonably obtained among the ancients: the authors who have been lavish in their com mendations of it are many; the greatest of the Roman writers in prose, Cicero, has more tha once expressed his admiration for the system of morality contained in it; and the deference the greatest Latin poet has paid to it I shall show 10 my comparison of the Works and Days with the Latin Georgic: nor is the encomium paid by Or

4. Holy day. Propitious for marriage, and for to our poet, to be passed over.
repairing ships. A day of troubles.

5. In which the Furies take their round.
6. Unhappy for the birth of women. Propitious
for the birth of men, for gelding the kid and
the ram, and for penning the sheep.

7. The birthday of Apollo. A holy day.
8. Geld the goat, and the steer.

9. Propitious quite through. Happy for the birth of both sexes. A day to plant in. 10. Propitious to the birth of men.

DECADE II.

1. Day of decade II, or 11th of the month. To reap.

Vivet et Ascræus, dum mastis uva tumebit,
Dum cadet incurvâ falce resecta Ceres.

While swelling clusters shall the vintage stain,
And Ceres with rich crops shall bless the plain,
Th' Ascræan bard shall in his verse remain.

Eleg. 15. Book!

And Justin Martyr', one of the most learned fathers in the Christian church, extols the Works and Days of our poet, while he expresses his d like to the Theogony.

While our poet addresses to Perses his brother, he instructs his countrymen in all that is useful to

2. For women to ply the loom, for the men to know for the regulating their conduct, both in the shear the sheep, and geld the mule.

3. A day to plant in, and not to sow.

business of agriculture, and in their behaviour to each other. He gives us an account of the first ages, 4. Propitious for the birth of women. Break according to the common received notion among the mule and the ox. Teach your dog, and the Gentiles. The story of Pandora has all the your sheep, to know you. Pierce the cask.bellishments of poetry which we can find in Ovil, A holy day.

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thought of on that occasion. There is not one of the ten commandments of Moses, which relates to our moral duty to each other, that is not strongly recommended by our poet; nor is it enough, he thinks, to be observant of what the civil government would oblige you to, but, to prove yourself a good man, you must have such virtues as no human laws require of you, as those of temperance, generosity, &c. these rules are laid down in a most proper manner to captivate the reader; here the beauties of poetry and the force of reason combine to make him in love with morality. The poet tells us what effect we are reasonably to expect from such virtues and vices as he mentions; which doctrines are not always to be took in a positive sense: if we should say a continuance of intemperance in drinking, and in our commerce with women, would carry us early to the grave, it is morally true, according to the natural course of things; but a man of a strong and uncommon constitution may wanton through an age of pleasure, and so be an exception to this rule, yet not contradict the moral truth of it. Archbishop Tillotson has judiciously told us in what sense we are to take all doctrines of morality; "Aristotle," says that great divine, "observed, long since, that moral and proverbial sayings are understood to be true generally, and for the most part; and that is all the truth is to be expected in them; as when Solomon says, 'train up a child in the way wherein he shall go, and when he is old he will not depart from it: this is not to be taken, as if no child that is piously educated did ever miscarry afterwards, but that the good education of children is the best way to make good men."

| by all good poets: with this view Hesiod seems to have writ, and must be allowed by all true judges to have wonderfully succeeded in the age in which

The second book, which comes next under our view, will appear with more diguity when we consider in what esteem the art of agriculture was held in those days in which it was writ: the Georgic did not then concern the ordinary and middling sort of people only, but our poet writ for the instruction of princes likewise, who thought it no disgrace to till the ground which they perhaps had conquered. Homer makes Laertes not only plant but dung his own lands; the best employment he could find for his health, and consolation, in the absence of his son. The latter part of this book, together with all the third, though too mean for poetry, are not unjustifiable in our author. Had he made those religious and superstitious precepts one entire subject of verse, it would have been a ridiculous fancy, but, as they are only a part, and the smallest part, of a regular poem, they are introduced with a laudable intent. After the poet had laid down proper rules for morality, húsbandry, navigation, and the vintage, he knew that religion towards the gods, and a due observance of what was held sacred in his age, were yet wanted to complete the work. These were subjects, he was sensible, incapable of the embellishments of poetry; but as they were necessary to his purpose he would not omit them. Poetry was not then designed as the empty anusement only of an idle hour, consisting of wanton thoughts, or long and tedious descriptions of nothing, but, by the force of harmony and good sense, to purge the mind of its dregs, to give it a great and virtuous turn of thinking: in short, verse was then but the lure to what was useful; which indeed has been, and ever will be, the end pursued

he rose.

This advantage more arises to us from the writings of so old an author; we are pleased with those monuments of antiquity, such parts of the ancient Grecian history, as we find in them.

I shall now endeavour to show how far Virgil may properly be said to imitate our poet in his Georgic, and to point out some of those passages in which he has either paraphrased, or literally translated from the Works and Days. It is plain he was a sincere admirer of our poet, and of this poem in particular, of which he twice makes honourable mention, and where it could be only to express the veneration that he bore to the author. The first is in his third pastoral.

In medio duo signa, Conon, et quis fuit alter,
Descripsit, radio, totum qui gentibus orbem,
Tempora quæ messor, quæ curvus arator, haberet?
Two figures on the sides emboss'd appear,
Conon, and what's his name who made the sphere,
And show'd the seasons of the sliding year?
Dryden.

Notwithstanding the commentators have all dis

puted whom this interrogation should mean, I am convinced that Virgil had none but Hesiod in his eye. In the next passage I propose to quote, the greatest honour that was ever paid by one poet to another is paid to ours. Virgil, in his sixth pastoral, makes Silenus, among other things, relate how Gallus was conducted by a Muse to Helicon, where Apollo, and all the Muses, arose to welcome him; and Linus, approaching him, addressed him in this manner:

-hos tibi dant calamos, en, accipe, Musa,
Ascræo quos antè Seni; quibus ille solebat
Cantando rigidas deducere montibus ornos.
Receive this present by the Muses made,
The pipe on which th' Ascræan pastor play'd;
With which, of old, he charm'd the savage train,
And call'd the mountain ashes to the plain.

Dryden.

The greatest compliment which Virgil thought he could pay his friend and patron, Gallus, was, after all that pompous introduction to the choir of Apollo, to make the Muses present him, from the hands of Linus, with the pipe, or calamos, Ascræo quos antè seni, which they had formerly presented to Hesiod; which part of the compliment to our poet Dryden has omitted in his translation.

To return to the Georgic. Virgil can be said to imitate Hesiod in his first and second books only; in the first is scarcely any thing relative to the Georgic itself, the hint of which is not took from the Works and Days; nay more, in some places whole lines are paraphrased, and some literally translated. It must indeed be acknowledged, that the Latin poet has sometimes explained, in his translation, what was difficult in the Greek, as where our poet gives directions for two ploughs:

Δοια δε θεσθαι αροτρα πονησάμενος κατά οικον
Αυτογυον και πηκτον.

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