VI.
Edward Kennard Rand translation
When hot with Phoebus' beams The Crab casts fiery gleams, He that doth then with seed Th'unwilling furrows feed, Deceivéd of his bread Must be with acorns fed. Seek not the flowery woods For violets' sweet buds, When fields are overcast With the fierce northern blast, Nor hope thou home to bring Vine-clusters in the Spring If thou in grapes delight: In autumn Bacchus' might With them doth deck our clime. God every several time With proper grace hath crowned Nor will those laws confound Which He once settled hath. He that with headlong path This certain order leaves, An hapless end receives.