As constant Tides observe their stated Time,
Returning Currents raise the troubled Slime;
That mixt is in the rolling Waters lost,
Wafted afar, and on the Billows tost,
Till purging Winds the winnow'd Ocean sweep,
Force on the Draught, and form the worthless Heap.
To ev'ry Shore the Floods their Load convey,
And leave behind the Refuse of the Sea.
On tainted Sands the mingled Ordure lies,
And waits the Influence of warmer Skies.
The loosen'd Parts, vext with the active Heat,
Clog the dull Air, and reeky Moisture sweat;
Unwholesome Scents breath from the vap'ry Store,
And the gross Steams creep slowly round the Shore.
Then from the teeming Filth, and putrid Heap,
Like Summer Grubs, the little  creep.
Devour'd by All the passive Curse they own,
Opprest by ev'ry Kind, but injure none.
Harmless they live, nor murd'rous Hunger know,
But to themselves their mutual Pleasures owe;
Each other lick, and the close Kiss repeat;
Thus loving thrive, and praise the luscious Treat.
When they in Throngs a safe Retirement seek,
Where pointed Rocks the rising Surges break,
Or where calm Waters in their Bason sleep,
While chalky Cliffs o'erlook the shaded Deep,
The Seas all gilded o'er the Shoal betray,
And shining Tracks inform their wand'ring Way.