Page:The Cry of Nature.pdf/79

 thy arrows were the thrill of rapture, thy only pain the bliſsful anguiſh of enjoyment!

Such were the feaſts of primæval innocence; ſuch the felicity of the golden age. But long ſince, alas! are thoſe happy days elapſed. That they ever did exiſt is a doubt with the depravity of the preſent day; and ſo unlike our actual ſtate of miſery, the ſtory of primal bliſs is numbered with the dreams of viſionary bards. Rh