Though Jason's fleece was famed of old,
The British wool is growing gold;
No mines can more of wealth supply;
It keeps the peasant from the cold,
And takes for kings the Tyrian dye.
[The last Stanza sung over again betwixt Pan and the Nereid. After which, the former dance is varied, and goes on.
Enter Comus, with three Peasants, who sing the following Song in Parts.
Com. Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reaped;
Your barns will be full, and your hovels heaped;