PART II.
Yet, thence in ſmaller parties drawn,10
The ſea recovers her loſt hills:
And ſtarting ſprings from every lawn,
Surprize the vales with plenteous rills.
The fields tame beaſts are thither led11
Weary with labour, faint with drought,
And aſſes on wild mountains bred,
Have ſenſe to find theſe currents out.
There ſhady trees from ſcorching beams,12
Yield ſhelter to the feather’d throng:
They drink, and to the bounteous ſtreams
Return the tribute of their ſong.
His rains from heav’n parch’d hills recruit,13
That ſoon tranſmit the liquid ſtore:
’Till earth is burthen’d with her fruit,
And nature’s lap can hold no more.
Graſs for our cattle to devour,84
He makes the growth of every field:
Herbs, for man’s uſe, of various pow’r,
That either food or phyſic yield.
With cluſter’d grapes he crowns the vine15
To cheer man’s heart oppreſs’d with cares:
Gives oil that makes his face to ſhine,
And corn that waſted ſtrength repairs.
