XXXVIII.

"Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves! Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, His eyes still smiling, and his heart content. Then, hand in hand, health, sport, and labour went. Nature supply'd the wish she taught to crave. None prowl'd for prey, none watch'd to circumvent. To all an equal lot Heaven's bounty gave: No vassal fear'd his lord, no tyrant fear'd his slave.