Where'er you walk, cool glades shall fan the glade / Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade: / Where'er you tread, the blusing flow'rs shall rise, / And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.
Some old men, continually praise the time of their youth. In fact, you would almost think that there were no fools in their days, but unluckily they themselves are left as an example.