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e; The Forest ne'er was search'd for Food for me, Nor from my Hounds the timerous Hare does flee: No leaden Thunder strikes the Fowl in Air, Nor from my Shaft the winged Death do fear. With silken Nets I ne'er the Lake despoil, Nor with my Bait the larger Fish beguile. No Wine, but what does from my Apples flow, My frugal House on any can bestow. But thoa rich Dainties never spread my Board, Nor my cool Vaults Calabrian Wines afford, Yet what is neat and wholesome I can spread, My good fat Bacon and our homely Bread, With which my healthful Family is fed. Milk from the Cow, and Butter newly churn'd And new fresh Cheese, with Curds and Cream just turn'd. For a Desert upon my Table's seen The Golden Apple and the Melon green; The blushing Peach and glossy Plumb there lies, And with the Mandrake tempt your Hands and Eyes. This I can give, and if you'll here repair, To slake your Thirst a Cask of Autumn Beer, Reserved on purpose for your drinking here. Under the spreading Elms our Lim