Seed-time and harvest-home and vintage wakes—
Your holidays are nothing worth to us.
Our rivers roll with luxury, our vats
O'erflow with nectar, which providing Jove
Showers down by cataracts; the very gutters
From our house-tops spout wine, vast forests wave,
Whose very leaves drop fatness, smoking viands
Like mountains rise.—All nature's one great feast. —Cumberland.
Philemon. (Book vii. § 32, p. 453.)