That glad and golden law, all free, all fitted,
Which Nature’s own hand wrote—What pleases, is permitted.”
“O lovely age of gold! Not that the rivers rolled With milk, or that the woods wept honeydew; Not that the ready ground Produced without a wound, Or the mild serpent had no tooth that slew; Not that a cloudless blue Forever was in sight, Or that the heaven which burns, And now is cold by turns, Looked out in glad and everlasting light; No, nor that even the insolent ships from far Brought war to no new lands, nor riches worse than war: