"The blood of slaughtered bullocks oft has borne Bees from corruption. I will trace me back To its prime source the story's tangled thread, And thence unravel. For where thy happy folk, Canopus, city of Pellaean fame, Dwell by the Nile's lagoon-like overflow, And high o'er furrows they have called their own Skim in their painted wherries; where, hard by, The quivered Persian presses, and that flood Which from the swart-skinned Aethiop bears him down, Swift-parted into sevenfold branching mouths With black mud fattens and makes Aegypt green, That whole domain its welfare's hope secure Rests on this art alone. And first is chosen A strait recess, cramped closer to this end, Which next with narrow roof of tiles atop 'Twixt prisoning walls they pinch, and add hereto From the four winds four slanting window-slits. Then seek they from the herd a steer, whose horns With two years' growth are curling, and stop fast, Plunge madly as he may, the panting mouth And nostrils twain, and done with blows to death, Batter his flesh to pulp i' the hide yet whole, And shut the doors, and leave him there to lie. But 'neath his ribs they scatter broken boughs, With thyme and fresh-pulled cassias: this is done When first the west winds bid the waters flow, Ere flush the meadows with new tints, and ere The twittering swallow buildeth from the beams. Meanwhile the juice within his softened bones Heats and ferments, and things of wondrous birth, Footless at first, anon with feet and wings, Swarm there and buzz, a marvel to behold; And more and more the fleeting breeze they take, Till, like a shower that pours from summer-clouds, Forth burst they, or like shafts from quivering string When Parthia's flying hosts provoke the fray. … The appointed altars reared, and thither led Four chosen bulls of peerless form and bulk, With kine to match, that never yoke had known; Then, when the ninth dawn had led in the day, To Orpheus sent his funeral dues, and sought The grove once more. But sudden, strange to tell A portent they espy: through the oxen's flesh, Waxed soft in dissolution, hark! there hum Bees from the belly; the rent ribs overboil In endless clouds they spread them, till at last On yon tree-top together fused they cling, And drop their cluster from the bending boughs."
Bugonia

January 1, 1970

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Added on April 10, 2026
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Original Language: English

Sources

Virgil, Georgics, 4.

https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Bugonia