Here you will find the Poem From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book II. Metre 2. of poet Samuel Johnson
Though countless as the grains of sand That roll at Eurus' loud command; Though countless as the lamps of night That glad us with vicarious light; Fair plenty, gracious queen, should pour The blessings of a golden shower, Not all the gifts of fate combin'd Would ease the hunger of the mind, But swallowing call the mighty store, Rapacity would call for more; For still where wishes most abound Unquench'd the thirst of gain is found; In vain the shining gifts are sent, For none are rich without content.
