Thy task defer not till the morn arise,
Or the third sun th’ unfinish’d work surprise.
[81]The idler never shall his garners fill,
Nor he that still defers and lingers still.
Lo! diligence can prosper every toil;
The loiterer strives with loss and execrates the soil.
When rests the keen strength of th’ o’erpowering sun
From heat that made the pores in rivers run;
When rushes in fresh rains autumnal Jove,
And man’s unburthen’d limbs now lightlier move;