The beetle there, that flies the light of day—
There feasts th’ unbidden drone—there ring the alarms
Of hornets battling with unequal arms;
Dire gnaws the moth, and o’er their portals spread
The spider watches her aërial thread.
Yet still, when most oppress’d, they mostly strive,
And tax their strength to renovate the hive;
Contending myriads urge exhaustless powers,
Fill every cell, and crowd the comb with flowers.
Translation of W. Sotheby. Publius Virgilius Maro, 70–19 B. C.