* * * * * * * *
Pleased with earth’s unbought feasts: all ills removed,
Wealthy in flocks,[4] and of the Blest beloved,
Death, as a slumber, pressed their eyelids down:
All Nature’s common blessings were their own.
The life-bestowing tilth its fruitage bore,
A full, spontaneous, and ungrudging store.
They with abundant goods, ’midst quiet lands,
All willing, shared the gatherings of their hands.
When Earth’s dark breast had closed this race around,