Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/77

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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 Crowds 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, E're yet the Pine descended to the Seas: E're 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 Trumpet's 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 through the Pores of Oak. Rh