With such a liberal hand has Nature flung Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, Innumerous mix'd them with the nursing mould The moistening current, and prolific rain. But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With vision pure, into these secret stores Of health, and life, and joy? the food of man, While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told A length of golden years, unflesh'd in blood; A stranger to the savage arts of life, Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease-- The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. [Illustration: While yet man lived in innocence] The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladdened race Of uncorrupted man, nor blushed to see The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam; For their light slumbers gently fum'd away, And up they rose as vigorous as the sun. Or to the culture of the willing glebe, Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock. Meantime the song went round; and dance and sport, Wisdom and friendly talk successive stole Their hours away; while in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free, And full replete with bliss; save the sweet pain That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, Was known among these happy sons of heaven; For reason and benevolence were law. Harmonious Nature, too, look'd smiling on. Clear shone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales, And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds Dropp'd fatness down; as, o'er the swelling mead, The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure. This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart Was meeken'd, and he join'd his sullen joy; For music held the whole in perfect peace: Soft sigh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard, Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round Applied their choir; and winds and waters flow'd In consonance. Such were those prime of days. [Illustration: The song went round, and dance]