Happy that Age
who their own Fields did till;
Could Hunger's rage
with Acorns eas'ly fill;
Did not their Wine
with hony mixt confound,
Nor made them fine
with Tyrian dye unſound;
Who on the graſs
did take their quiet reſt,
Drink Water was,
and under Pines did feaſt:
When dang'rous Trade,
which with it Wealth did bring,
Was not yet made
of Vice the fatal ſpring.
No Trumpets did
the Souldiers minds elate,
No weapons hid
in wounds through mortal hate.
What could invite
men then to kill and ſlay?
For none would fight
if it were not for pay.
O would again
thoſe manners might return!
But love of gain
like Ætna's fire does burn.
Ah! who was he
that firſt did treaſures find?
Man lived free
they in their cells confin'd.