“The golden age was first; when man, yet new, No rule but uncorrupted reason knew, And, with a native bent, did good pursue. Unforced by punishment, unawed by fear, His words were simple, and his soul sincere; Needless was written law, where none opprest: The law of man was written in his breast: No suppliant crowds before the judge appeared, No court erected yet, nor cause was heard: But all was safe, for conscience was their guard. The mountain-trees in distant prospect please, Ere yet the pine descended to the seas; Ere sails were spread, new oceans to explore; And happy mortals, unconcerned for more, Confined their wishes to their native shore. No walls were yet: nor fence, nor mote, nor mound, Nor drum was heard, nor trumpet’s angry sound: Nor swords were forged; but, void of care and crime, The soft creation slept away their time. The teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough, And unprovoked, did fruitful stores allow: Content with food, which nature freely bred, On wildings and on strawberries they fed; Cornels and bramble-berries gave the rest,