"Then warp my voyage on the southern gales, O’er the warm Lybian wave to spread my sails; That happy clime, where each revolving year The teeming ewes a triple offspring bear; And two fair crescents of translucent horn The brows of all their young increase adorn: The shepherd swains, with sure abundance blest, On the fat flock and rural dainties feast; Nor want of herbage makes the dairy fail, But every season fills the foaming pail."