I envie not, but glory in thy fate,
While in the narrow limits of my state
I bound my hopes. Which if Castara daigne
Once to entitle hers; the wealthiest graine
My earth, untild shall beare; my trees shall grone
Under their fruitfull burthen, and at one
And the same season, Nature forth shall bring
Riches of Autumne, pleasures of the Spring.
But digge, and thou shalt finde a purer Mine
Then th' Indians boast: Taste of this generous Vine,