Piscator and Corydon. 63 



Thy Friendship I still own, if fates were free 

 I willing would obtain and learn thy mistery ; 

 But cares still cloud my over willing mind, 

 Sprung from the Earth, there's all the Joy I find. 



Ne'er mind the Earth, to Heaven lift your eyes, 

 All blessings come from supream Deities. 

 Those griping Misers, that the Muck adore, 

 Are always empty, and in plenty poor. 



Earth is my business, and a soil that's rich, 



Gives me contentment; Jove I still beseech 



That all my Teeming Ews may fruitful be, 



And Crown my Labours with their large posterity, 



So may my Darie daily still abound, 



With plentious blessings from my Heifers sound. 



'Tis all I covet, Misers Gold admire 



The only Loadstone to a fond desire. 



Croesus, and Midas, Gold could ne'er content, 



Ingraven Ingots, all the Gods they meant, 



But baubles, to the Golden glistering o'er 



That Damn'd their souls, yet dy'd exceeding poor. 



Corydon, if you'll but gratify me half this day, 



I will repay your kindness when you turn your Hay, 



Fain would I now Spectator you should be, 



If I ha' n't reason to be kind and free. 



Almighty 



