Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales and Ceres' golden reign: Now rolling down the steep amain, Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.

For thee the lion loathes the taste of blood, And, roaring, hunts his female through the wood: For thee the bulls rebellow through the groves, 140 And tempt the stream, and snuff their absent loves. 'Tis thine, whate'er is pleasant, good, or fair: All nature is thy province, life thy care: Thou madest the world, and dost the world repair.