Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/26

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We, to whom indulgent skies Plenty, health, and peace impart. Bid in fragrant offerings rise Incense from the grateful heart.

 

Crowns are beset with thorns, And who can tell what woes their hollow orb Binds on the temples!—Yet to taste that wo, Ambition toils,—Pride strives,—Affection dies 'Neath Hatred's frown. Thus stood the red-brow'd kings, Brothers and rivals. On their father's throne Each strove to sit. Justly the nation gave The sovereignty, where Nature's voice decreed The birthright. So the eldest rose to rule His brethren of the forest. In their cares, Pursuits and dangers, with true heart he shared An equal part. The hunter's toil he loved, Like him, the patriarch's favourite son, who bore The cheering perfume of the scented field Within his garments. But the younger prince Adher'd to that pale race, who on his lands, Encroaching silently, like Rachel, sought By arts, and counterfeited tones to wrest The sceptre from him. He, with flattering words Still sooth'd their avarice,—sparing not to vow That o'er these mountains, and uncultured vales, Tall crested woods, and streams which they desired Their sway should reach. 