Glad Amalthea pours her copious horn. 340
Here buxom Ceres reigns: Th’ autumnal sea
In boundless billows fluctuates o’er their plains.
What suits the climate best, what suits the men,
Nature profuses most, and most the taste
Demands. The fountain, edg’d with racy wine 345
Or acid fruit, bedews their thirsty souls.
The breeze eternal breathing round their limbs
Supports in else intolerable air:
While the cool Palm, the Plantain, and the grove