The poem
Command the roof, great Genius, and from thence Into this house pour down thy influence, That through each room a golden pipe may run Of living water by thy benizon; Fulfil the larders, and with strength'ning bread Be ever-more these bins replenished. Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground, That lucky fairies here may dance their round; And, after that, lay down some silver pence, The master's charge and care to recompence. Charm then the chambers; make the beds for ease, More than for peevish pining sicknesses; Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof Grow old with time, but yet keep weather-proof.