From her rich soil are reap'd spontaneous crops,And from the forest oak sweet honey drops.No hinds as yet did toil their time away,Nor with keen clusters wound the parent clay:As yet no landmark was by lab'rers set,And none had learned to plough the sea as yetNone as yet knew the use of sails and oars,Nor ventur'd voyages beyond their shores.The wit of men the race of men destroys,And all its pow'rs against itself employs.How subtle's human nature to contriveIts proper ruin, and itself deceive!Why didst thou cities with high walls surround,Why arms invent thy jarring sons to wound ?What quarrel hast thou with the sea, and whyDidst thou at first the pathless ocean try ?Cannot the land content thy restless pride ?Didst thou with Saturn's sons the whole divide,Thou wouldst not with three worlds be satisfied.'Tis strange thy vast ambition did not fly