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 The native tribes—yet not at once subdued; Its pristine strength long storms on storms withstood: A Nunio's justice, and a Castro's sword, Oft raised its turrets, and its dread restored. Yet, like the sunshine of a winter's day On Norway's coast, soon died the transient ray. A tyrant race, who own'd no country, came, Deep to intrench themselves their only aim; With lust of rapine fever'd and athirst, With the unhallowed rage of game accurst; Against each spring of action, on the breast For wisest ends, by Nature's hand imprest, Stern war they waged; and blindly ween'd, alone On brutal dread, to fix their cruel throne. The wise and good, with indignation fired, Silent from their unhallowed board retired; The