How without pruning hook, or drudging bull,
The press ran wine, the granaries were full;
And traders finding wares from foreign lands
They had risked life to store, left on their hands,
Gave up voyaging abroad;
Let alone the Ocean road.
Ah! Joy, the world ’twas given me to view!
All that’s fair in the Old, kind in the New!
How Nature, impelled by but one desire
To grant her loved children all they require,