Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but [frieze],
The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised,
Not half his riches known, [and yet] despised;
And we should serve him as a grudging master, 725
As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons,
[Who] would be quite surcharged with her own weight,
And strangled with her waste fertility:
The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with plumes, 730
The herds would over-multitude their lords;