High summer: beneath the sweltering sun, A man languishes, along with his flock: the pines burn We hear the cuckoo’s voice; then the sweet songs of the turtledove and goldfinch. Soft breezes stir the air, but the threatening North wind sweeps them suddenly aside. The shepherd trembles, fearing the fierce storms and his fate. The fear of lightning and fierce thunder robs his tired limbs of rest and gnats and flies buzz furiously around. Alas, his fears were justified: The heavens thunder and roar and great hailstones beat down the crops.