Page:The Universe, a poem - Baker (1727).djvu/44

Afraid of Want, for what the Harvest yields,
Thoughtful, she ranges through the distant Fields.
No Toil she spares, but labours o'er the Plain,
And sweats beneath the Burden of a Grain.
Though much she has, she searches still for more,
And ev'ry Day adds something to her Store;
With wholesome Food her Granaries abound,
Nor, unprepar'd, is She by freezing Winter found.

$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$How oft, O Man, by foolish Pride betray'd,
Madly hast thou presum'd——————
All living Things for Thee alone were made:
Their only End thy Pleasures to supply,
To live thy Slaves, or for thy Humour die?
Whence springs this Claim? When was this Licence giv'n?
What Act ordains Thee Substitute of Heav'n?
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Does Pow'r confer a Right to take away
That Being God bestows?————————
So, had they Speech, perhaps would Tygers say.

But