"Please thy pride, and search the herald’s roll, Where thou shalt find thy famous pedigree, Drawn from the root of some old Tuscan tree, And thou, a thousand off, a fool of long degree."

"What have I lost by my forefathers’ fault! Why was I not the twentieth by descent From a long restive race of droning kings?"

"Thus, born alike, from virtue first began The diffrence that distinguish’d man from man: He claim’d no title from descent of blood; But that which made him noble, made him good."

"Do then as your progenitors have done, And by their virtues prove yourself their son."

"Long galleries of ancestors Challenge nor wonder or esteem from me: "Virtue alone is true nobility.""

"Vain are their hopes who fancy to inherit, By trees of pedigree, or fame or merit; Though plodding heralds through each branch may trace Old captains and dictators of their race."

"Were virtue by descent, a noble name Could never villanize his father’s fame; But, as the first, the last of all the line Would, like the sun, ev’n in descending, shine."

"Dare to be great without a guilty crown; View it, and lay the bright temptation down: ’Tis base to seize on all."

"Leave to fathom such high points as these, Nor be ambitious, ere the time, to please; Unseasonably wise, till age and cares Have form’d thy soul to manage great affairs."

"To cure their mad ambition, they were sent To rule a distant province, each alone: What could a careful father more have done?"

"Why does Antony dream out his hours, And tempts not fortune for a noble day?"

"With joy th’ ambitious youth his mother heard, And, eager, for the journey soon prepared; He longs the world beneath him to survey, To guide the chariot, and to give the day."

"No toil, no hardship can restrain Ambitious man inured to pain; The more confined, the more he tries, And at forbidden quarry flies."

"O diadem, thou centre of ambition, Where all its different lines are reconciled; As if thou wert the burning glass of glory."

"Too truly Tamerlane’s successors they; Each thinks a world too little for his sway."

"One world sufficed not Alexander’s mind; Coop’d up he seem’d, in earth and seas confined."

"Those who to empire by dark paths aspire, Still plead a call to what they most desire."

"Some through ambition, or through thirst of gold, Have slain their brothers, and their country sold."

"If your care to wheat alone extend, Let Maia with her sisters first descend, Before you trust in earth your future hope, Or else expect a listless, lazy crop."

"Did we for these barbarians plant and sow, On these, on these our happy fields bestow?"

"While the reaper fills his greedy hands, And binds the golden sheaves in brittle bands."

"Here the marshy grounds approach your fields, And there the soil a stony harvest yields."

"The wiser madman did for virtue toil A thorny, or at least a barren, soil."

"Bid the laborious hind, Whose harden’d hands did long in tillage toil, Neglect the promised harvest of the soil."

"Let thy hand supply the pruning-knife, And crop luxuriant stragglers."

"Be mindful With iron teeth of rakes and prongs to move The crusted earth."

"Nor is the profit small the peasant makes, Who smooths with harrow, or who pounds with rakes, The crumbling clods."

"Root up wild olives from thy labour’d lands."

"Ah that your business had been mine, To pen the sheep."

"At harvest-home, and on the shearing day, When he should thanks to Pan and Pales pay."

"In vain the barns expect their promised load; Nor barns at home, nor ricks are heap’d abroad."

"First, with assiduous care from winter keep, Well fother’d in the stalls, thy tender sheep; Then spread with straw the bedding of thy fold, With fern beneath, to fend the bitter cold."

"The soil, with fatt’ning moisture fill’d, Is clothed with grass, and fruitful to be till’d; Such as in fruitful vales we view from high, Which dripping rocks, not rowling streams supply."

"Yet then this little spot of earth well till’d, A num’rous family with plenty fill’d, The good old man and thrifty housewife spent Their days in peace and fatten’d with content; Enjoy’d the dregs of life, and lived to see A long descending healthful progeny."

"T’ unload the branches, or the leaves to thin That suck the vital moisture of the vine."

"Uneasy still within these narrow bounds, Thy next design is on thy neighbour’s grounds: His crop invites, to full perfection grown; Thy own seems thin, because it is thy own."

"Rocks lie cover’d with eternal snow; Thin herbage in the plains, and fruitless fields."

"Your farm requites your pains, Though rushes overspread the neighb’ring plains."

"Where the tender rinds of trees disclose Their shooting germs, a swelling knot there grows; Just in that place a narrow slit we make, Then other buds from bearing trees we take; Inserted thus, the wounded rind we close."

"The peaceful peasant to the wars is prest, The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest."

"Their morning milk the peasants press at night; Their evening milk before the rising light."

"All was common, and the fruitful earth Was free to give her unexacted birth."

"Give me, ye gods, the product of one field, That so I neither may be rich nor poor; And haying just enough, not covet more."

"To dress the vines new labour is required, Nor must the painful husbandman be tired."

"Ev’n when they sing at ease in full content, Insulting o’er the toil they underwent, Yet still they find a future task remain, To turn the soil."

"Suffering not the yellow beards to rear, He tramples down the spikes, and intercepts the ear."

"Let Araby extol her happy coast, Her fragrant flow’rs, her trees with precious tears, Her second harvests."

"Apollo check’d my pride, and bade me feed My fatt’ning flocks, nor dare beyond the reed."

"Thou hop’st with sacrifice of oxen slain To compass wealth, and bribe the god of gain To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase; Fool! to expect them from a bullock’s grease."