I bounteous Gods, for plenty first bespoke,
Now for his Pleasures,  thee invoke:
Let my soft Prayers, thy vernal Glories bring,
Bless  Plains, with glad eternal Spring:
The Pasture gay, no hurtful Weeds be found,
But Pancies, Hyacinths, 'ore spread the Ground;
Mirtle and Firr make every Decent mound:
Let lofty Cedars and the stately Pine,
With mingling Boughs in mutual Shades combine:
Then the delicious Eglantine and Rose,
With fragrant Jess'mine humbler Bowers compose
(Where the dear Youth may oft supinely Rest,
With pleasing Dreams, in Golden slumbers Blest,)
When Heat or Thirst, to flowing Streams invite,
Let sporting Naiads entertain his Sight;
Birds chearful Notes, the Woods and Vallies fill,
From spicy Trees which odourous Gums distil.
Amongst these Aromaticks rich Fruits plac'd,
Fair to the Sight, as those  grac'd,
Which both Invite, and Please the longing Tast.
The cluster'd Boughs, Complaisantly recline,
As if they Joy'd the Gatherers hand to Join,
And all the choicest, still my Love be thine.