SongV

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Song

V

The Former Age

Too blest the former age, their life

Who in the fields contented led,

And still, by luxury unspoiled,

On frugal acorns sparely fed.

No skill was theirs the luscious grape

With honey’s sweetness to confuse;

Nor China’s soft and sheeny silks

T’ empurple with brave Tyrian hues.

The grass their wholesome couch, their drink

The stream, their roof the pine’s tall shade;

Not theirs to cleave the deep, nor seek

In strange far lands the spoils of trade.

The trump of war was heard not yet,

Nor soiled the fields by bloodshed’s stain;

For why should war’s fierce madness arm

When strife brought wound, but brought not gain?

Ah! would our hearts might still return

To following in those ancient ways.

Alas! the greed of getting glows

More fierce than Etna’s fiery blaze.

Woe, woe for him, whoe’er it was,

Who first gold’s hidden store revealed,

And⁠—perilous treasure trove⁠—dug out

The gems that fain would be concealed!