The Muses' Friend (Grey-Eyed Aurora) Yet Held All The Meadows In A Cooling Sweat, The Milk-White Gossamers Not Upwards Snow'D, Nor Was The Sharp And Useful-Steering Goad Laid On The Strong-Neck'D Ox; No Gentle Bud The Sun Had Dried; The Cattle Chew'D The Cud Low Levell'D On The Grass; No Fly'S Quick Sting Enforc'D The Stonehorse In A Furious Ring To Tear The Passive Earth, Nor Lash His Tail About His Buttocks Broad; The Slimy Snail Might On The Wainscot, By His Many Mazes, Winding Meanders And Self-Knitting Traces, Be Follow'D Where He Stuck, His Glittering Slime Not Yet Wip'D Off. It Was So Early Time, The Careful Smith Had In His Sooty Forge Kindled No Coal; Nor Did His Hammers Urge His Neighbours' Patience: Owls Abroad Did Fly, And Day As Then Might Plead His In Fancy. From Britannia'S Pastorals.