And, as he tilts upon the rocking tide,

Catches the glistening fish that flash and glide

Innumerably through the waters wide.

He'll fire the bush whose flames shall help him fel

The trunks to prop his roof, where he may dwell

Beside the bubbling of a crystal well,

Sheltered from drenching rains or noxious glare

When the sun holds the zenith. Delving there,

His cumbered wife, whose multifarious toil

Seems never done, breaks the rich virgin soil,

[18]

And in the ashes casts the casual seeds

Of feathered grass and efflorescent weeds;

When, as with thanks, the bounteous earth one morn

Returns lush blades of life-sustaining corn.

And while the woman digs and plants, and twines

To precious use long reeds and pliant bines,

He—having hit the brown bird on the wing,

And slain the roe—returns at evening,

And gives his spoil unto her, to prepare

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