Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/289

 "A murderous fiend, by fiends ador'd, He kills the Sire and starves the Son; The Husband kills, and from lier board Steals all his Widow's toil had won; Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away All safety from the Night, all comfort from the Day."

"Then wisely is my soul elate, That Strife should vanish. Battle cease: I'm poor and of a low estate, The Mother of the Prince of Peace. Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: Peace, Peace on Earth, the Prince of Peace is born."