Lead forth, in Colonies, their buzzing Race,
Or work the liquid Sweets, and thicken to a Mass.
The busy Nation flies from Flow’r to Flow’r,
And hoards, in curious Cells, the golden Store;
A chosen Troop before the Gate attends,580
Heaves off the Burdens, and relieves their Friends;
Warm at the fragrant Work, in Bands, they drive
The Drone, a lazy Robber, from the Hive.
The Prince surveys the lofty Tow’rs, and cries,
Blest, blest are you, whose Walls already rise:585
Then, strange to tell, he mingled with the Crowds,
And past, unseen, involv’d in mantling Clouds.
Amid the Town, a stately Grove display’d
A cooling Shelter, and delightful Shade.
Here, tost by Winds and Waves, the Tyrians found590
A Courser’s Head, within the sacred Ground;
An Omen sent by Juno, to declare
A fruitful Soil, and Race renown’d in War.
A
