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From their scorch'd pastures sullenly retire,
Quivers with all the anguish of disease.
Whilst yet the rest of Greece was sunk in night, 465 The earliest dawn of science and of art Beam'd on these plains; their subtle tenants first Moulded the lyre's rude form, and from its strings Drew forth to list’ning crowds the solemn notes . Of harmony; they first, with daring hand, 470 Rein'd the proud steed, and taught him to obey The curb and goad, and from his pastures wild Led him, the future partner of their toils, In chase and battle; not to them unknown The potent virtues of each herb and flow'r; They first, with skill sagacious, bruis’d the stems, Mingled the juices, and to suff'ring man Held out the draught to cool his fev'rish lip
Then happy were thy plains, 0 Thessaly ! Thy tower'd cities deck'd the wide expanse With opulence and splendour ; Plenty roam'd Amidst her golden harvests, and her fields Smiling with vintage honours; Industry Bent cheerful to his daily task, and eas’d His labours with a song; at the hoarse blast 485
Of war, wide-gleam'd thy champain with the blaze