A feast perpetual, where unnumbered sons
Sit down to banquet as their sires withdraw,
And in succession generations feed,
Contented rise, give thanks, and pass away.
Hurdis.
The hand that built the palace of the sky,
Formed the light wings that decorate a fly;
The power that wheels the circling planets round,
Rears every infant floweret on the ground;
That bounty which the mightiest beings share,