Hear me Great , all ye Gods,
Whose sacred Power, protects the Plains and Woods,
Hear my last Prayer; (to you I oft did Bow,
With Milk and Hony, made your Altars Flow.)
While my sad Shade, mourns in the dusky Grove,
Releas'd from Life; (but not the Pains of Love.)
Bless my , let him know no Cares,
Increase his plenteous Herds, and peaceful Years:
From Fox and Wolf, preserve his tender Lambs,
And with Twin-births, enrich the fruitful Dams.
When his fair Flocks the Shearers care demands,
Luxuriant Fleeces, tire their num'rous Hands.
The industrious Bees load their melifluous Hive,
And all his rural Wealth, beyond his Wishes thrive.
But above all, ye Gods, regard him most,
Save him from parching Sun and piercing Frost:
Shelter him safe, e'er any Storm appear,
And let him be to you, as to  dear.