Ev'n while the reaper fills his greedy hands, And binds the golden sheafs in brittle bands: Oft have I seen a sudden storm arise From all the warring winds that sweep the skies: And oft whole sheets descend of slucy rain, Suck'd by the Spungy loud from off the main; The lofty skies at once come Pouring down, The promis'd crop and golden labours drown.