38
On their paternal urns the Naids lean,
The mute Fauns wonder at the starry sheen.
Then from Olympus' height the Father spake:
"Once more the things of Earth my cares awake;
Long time to deep forgetfulness consigned,
Since the dull age, when Saturn lull'd mankind
To torpid ease: I left them then to try
The rude extremes of toil and penury,
The stings and goads of life: for them the field
Spontaneous harvests would no longer yield;
The woods with honey flowed not, and their thirst
No wine to quench from gushing fountains burst.
It was not envy—how should envy move
The harmless natures of the Gods above?—
It was—that luxury should not tempt from right,
Nor large abundance dim the moral sight;
That want, stern monitress, should teach the mind
Hid paths of science step by step to find;
That strenuous act from patient thought should spring,
And art Experience to perfection bring.
And yet for this a tyrant am I styled,
And Nature mourns her wrong'd and suffering child:
The change from Saturn's milder rule deplores,
And calls me niggard of her boundless stores;
