Of care or gain; the green woods were their portions:
No sinking spirits told them they grew gray,
No fashions made them apes of her distortions.
Simple they were, not savage; and their rifles,
Though very true, were not yet used for trifles."
"Motion was in their days, rest in their slumbers,
And cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil.
Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers;
Corruption could not make their hearts her soil;
The lust which stings, the splendor which encumbers,