Classic Poem

Horace Epod. 2

Thrice happy he who voyd of Care
As our Forefathers wear
Can with unborrowed Oxen till
That ground his Fathers will
Bequeth'd him, and from dept is free
Nor feeles the misery
Of warrfare nor through fears cast down
Whilst th'angry Sea doth frown
And Law sutes shuns, nor haunts the gates
Of Great ones for their Cates
But rather's more delighted far
When to the poppler
The tender ofspring of the vine
He doth unite and joyne
Whilst from the branch his pruning bill
The useles cutts and ill.
That in their roomes he might insert
Others of more desert
Or in a frutefull vale doth spie
His scatterd heard of kie