To Trebula thy footsteps turn;
For here be valleys cool and deep;
Hot though the stars of Cancer burn
Her pleasant fields their verdure keep;

And Aeolus right well doth know
My little farm and country cot,
He sends his gentle breeze to blow
That ardent Leo parch them not.

Come, for the uplands call: with me
Pass the long days of harvest heat;
Compared with these, cool Tivoli
Shall seem a winter's warm retreat.