The Golden Age

The golden age was first; when man, yet new, No rule but uncorrupted reason knew; And, with a native bent, did good pursue. Unforc'd by punishment, un-aw'd 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 crowd before the judge appear'd; 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, unconcern'd for more, Confin'd their wishes to their native shore. No walls were yet, nor fence, nor mote, nor mound; Nor drum was heard, nor trumpets angry sound: Nor swords were forg'd; but void of care and crime, The soft creation slept away their time. The teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough, And unprovok'd, 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, And falling acorns furnish'd out a feast. The flow'rs, unsown, in fields and meadows reign'd; And western winds immortal spring maintain'd. In following years the bearded corn ensu'd, From earth, unask'd; nor was that earth renew'd. From veins of vallies milk and nectar broke; And honey sweating thro' the pores of oak.