And some within the confines of their home
Plant firm the comb's first layer, Narcissus' tear,
And
sticky gum oozed from the bark of trees,
Then set the clinging wax to hang therefrom.
Others the while lead forth the full-grown young,
Their country's hope, and others press and pack
The
thrice repured honey, and stretch their cells
To bursting with the clear-strained nectar sweet.
Some, too, the wardship of the gates befalls,
Who watch in turn for
showers and cloudy skies,
Or ease returning labourers of their load,
Or form a band and from their precincts drive
The drones, a lazy herd. How glows the work!
How sweet the honey smells of perfumed thyme
Like the Cyclopes, when in haste they forge
From the slow-yielding ore the thunderbolts,
Some from the bull's-hide bellows in and out
Let the blasts drive, some dip i' the water-trough
The sputtering metal: with the anvil's weight
Groans Etna: they
alternately in time
With giant strength
uplift their sinewy arms,
Or twist the iron with the forceps' grip-
Not
otherwise, to
measure small with great,
The love of getting planted in their breasts
Goads on the bees, that haunt old Cecrops' heights,
Each in his
sphere to labour. The old have charge
To keep the town, and build the walled combs,
And mould the
cunning chambers; but the youth,
Their tired legs packed with thyme, come labouring home
Belated, for afar they range to feed
On arbutes and the grey-green willow-leaves,
And cassia and the crocus blushing red,
Glue-yielding limes, and hyacinths dusky-eyed.
One hour for rest have all, and one for toil:
With dawn they hurry from the gates- no room
For
loiterers there: and once again, when even
Now bids them quit their pasturing on the plain,
Then
homeward make they, then
refresh their strength:
A hum arises: hark! they buzz and buzz
About the doors and
threshold; till at length
Safe laid to rest they hush them for the night,
And
welcomeslumber laps their weary limbs.
But from the
homestead not too far they fare,
When
showers hang like to fall, nor, east winds nigh,
Confide in heaven, but 'neath the city walls
Safe-circling fetch them water, or essay
Brief out-goings, and oft weigh-up tiny stones,
As light craft ballast in the tossing tide,
Wherewith they poise them through the cloudy vast.
This law of life, too, by the bees obeyed,
Will move thy wonder, that nor sex with sex
Yoke they in marriage, nor yield their limbs to love,
Nor know the pangs of labour, but alone
From leaves and honied herbs, the mothers, each,
Gather their offspring in their mouths, alone
Supply new kings and pigmy commonwealth,
And their old court and waxen realm repair.
Oft, too, while wandering, against jagged stones
Their wings they fray, and 'neath the burden yield
Their
liberal lives: so deep their love of flowers,
So
glorious deem they honey's proud acquist.
Therefore, though each a life of narrow span,
Ne'er stretched to summers more than seven, befalls,
Yet deathless doth the race
endure, and still
Perennial stands the fortune of their line,
From
grandsire unto
grandsirebackward told.
Moreover, not Aegyptus, nor the realm
Of
boundless Lydia, no, nor Parthia's hordes,
Nor Median Hydaspes, to their king
Do such obeisance: lives the king unscathed,
One will inspires the million: is he dead,
Snapt is the bond of fealty; they themselves
Ravage their toil-wrought honey, and rend amain
Their own comb's waxen trellis. He is the lord
Of all their labour; him with awful eye
They
reverence, and with murmuring throngs surround,
In crowds attend, oft shoulder him on high,
Or with their bodies
shield him in the fight,
And seek through
showering wounds a
glorious death.
Led by these tokens, and with such traits to guide,
Some say that unto bees a share is given
Of the Divine Intelligence, and to drink
Pure
draughts of ether; for God permeates all-
Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault of heaven-
From whom flocks, herds, men, beasts of every kind,
Draw each at birth the fine
essential flame;
Yea, and that all things hence to Him return,
Brought back by
dissolution, nor can death
Find place: but, each into his
starry rank,
Alive they soar, and mount the heights of heaven.
If now their narrow home thou wouldst unseal,
And broach the treasures of the honey-house,
With
draught of water first toment thy lips,
And spread before thee fumes of trailing smoke.
Twice is the teeming produce gathered in,
Twofold their time of
harvest year by year,
Once when Taygete the Pleiad
uplifts
Her
comelyforehead for the earth to see,
With foot of scorn spurning the ocean-streams,
Once when in gloom she flies the
watery Fish,
And dips from heaven into the
wintry wave.
Unbounded then their wrath; if hurt, they breathe
Venom into their bite,
cleave to the veins
And let the sting lie buried, and leave their lives
Behind them in the wound. But if you dread
Too rigorous a winter, and would fain
Temper the coming time, and their bruised hearts
And broken
estate to pity move thy soul,
Yet who would fear to fumigate with thyme,
Or cut the empty wax away? for oft
Into their comb the newt has gnawed unseen,
And the light-loathing beetles crammed their bed,
And he that sits at others' board to feast,
The do-naught drone; or 'gainst the
unequal foe
Swoops the
fierce hornet, or the moth's fell tribe;
Or
spider,
victim of Minerva's spite,
Athwart the
doorway hangs her swaying net.
The more impoverished they, the keenlier all
To mend the fallen fortunes of their race
Will nerve them, fill the cells up, tier on tier,
And weave their granaries from the rifled flowers.
Now,
seeing that life doth even to bee-folk bring
Our human chances, if in dire disease
Their bodies' strength should languish- which anon
By no
uncertain tokens may be told-
Forthwith the sick change hue; grim leanness mars
Their
visage; then from out the cells they bear
Forms reft of light, and lead the
mournful pomp;
Or foot to foot about the porch they hang,
Or within closed doors
loiter, listless all
From
famine, and benumbed with shrivelling cold.
Then is a deep note heard, a long-drawn hum,
As when the chill South through the forests sighs,
As when the troubled ocean
hoarsely booms
With back-swung
billow, as ravening tide of fire
Surges, shut fast within the furnace-walls.
Then do I bid burn scented galbanum,
And, honey-streams through reeden troughs instilled,
Challenge and cheer their flagging appetite
To taste the
well-known food; and it shall boot
To mix
therewith the
savour bruised from gall,
And rose-leaves dried, or must to
thickness boiled
By a
fierce fire, or juice of raisin-grapes
From Psithian vine, and with its bitter smell
Centaury, and the famed Cecropian thyme.
There is a meadow-flower by country folk
Hight star-wort; 'tis a plant not far to seek;
For from one sod an ample growth it rears,
Itself all golden, but girt with plenteous leaves,
Where glory of
purple shines through
violet gloom.
With chaplets woven hereof full oft are decked
Heaven's altars: harsh its taste upon the tongue;
Shepherds in vales smooth-shorn of nibbling flocks
By Mella's winding waters gather it.
The roots of this, well seethed in
fragrant wine,
Set in brimmed baskets at their doors for food.
But if one's whole stock fail him at a stroke,
Nor hath he
whence to breed the race anew,
'Tis time the
wondrous secret to disclose
Taught by the swain of Arcady, even how
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
straitrecess, 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
fleetingbreeze 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.
Say what was he, what God, that fashioned forth
This art for us, O Muses? of man's skill
Whence came the new adventure? From thy vale,
Peneian Tempe, turning, bee-bereft,