Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/69

41

From ancient oak-tree boles, they drank

Clear water kneeling on the bank

Of crystal streams, nor dreamed to dight

Piment therein for appetite;

Nor longed for wine grown old in tun,

With weary treading hardly won.

The fruitful earth no need to ear

Had they, it foisoned ’neath God’s care.

Thus amply fed, they had no wish

For salmons, pikes, or aught of fish.

They sheepskins wore against the harm

Of winter, or thence wove them warm

And simple vesture, which no dye

Of grain or herb e’er came anigh.

Green broom or rushes roofed their cots,

Or sheltered they in hillside grots

Fenced in with boughs, or hollow oaks

Gave shelter ’gainst rude winter’s strokes.

ND when a-nights they sought their rest,

No beds of down their bodies pressed.

But scattered they fresh fragrant leaves,

Or moss in heaps, or fresh cut sheaves

Of grass or reeds, and heaven’s sweet air

Was ever soft and gentle there,

In one unvarying tide of spring,

While tuneful birds made morning ring