August in Scorpio

The glowing Year glides on, and to her clime Lo! zoneless August gives the golden time! Threads, indolent of step, th’ etherial bound, And hears beneath the reaper’s shout resound; Observes bright sheaves, like troops of dancers, stand On hills, and laughing fields, and crown the land; Sees full fruits redden in the sultry ray, Peer thro’ the leaves, and bend the loaded spray. She bids her Scorpion hear the reapers sing, Sheath the fierce claw, nor dart the venom’d sting; But, from the waning dog-star, oft he sheds On stagnant pools, thick groves, and arid meads, The deadly virus, whence disease prevails, Steams from the loitering floods, and breathless dales. With plenty cloy’d the swart Month saunters on, And of the Sirian influence fearful grown, Scarce marks her mistress’ path descending slope, And leaves obeisance to the months of hope.