Sat in the cedar shade, by Abraham’s tent,
A spacious bowl th’[th’] admiring patriarch fills
With dulcet water from the scanty rills;
Sweet fruits and kernels gathers from his hoard,
With milk and butter piles the plenteous board;
While on the heated hearth his consort bakes
Fine flour well kneaded in unleavened cakes,
The guests ethereal quaff the lucid flood,
Smile on their hosts, and taste terrestrial food;
And while from seraph lips sweet converse springs,