Not when the earth revives with genial heat,
To fresh and blooming flowers, the bee applies
With such delight, and bears on loaded thighs
The fragrant treasure to her loaded seat;
Not young and timorous hind with course so fleet,
Escaped to trackless forest from the cries
Of fell pursuit, now unsuspected flies,
Panting to reach the cooling waters sweet,
As I in those hot tears exult, which shower
From my relenting eyes, when up to God,