Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/27

                                        Like Absalom he pined
Before his brethren,—"Oh! that I were judge
And ruler o'er you, that each one who felt
Wrong or injustice, unto me might come,
And I would do him right."
                                     —But the wise chiefs
Look'd gravely on him,—and the hoary head
Shook its white locks at the usurping prince.
—Sometimes when white men lured his private ear
To close debate, they to their swords would point,
Vaunting these soon could make a vacant throne;
And raise them high in eagerness, and say
His cause was theirs.—But ever at the word
A heavy sternness o'er his features came,
And terribly his dark eye beam'd reproof.
"One mother nursed us! and we hold it sin
To shed a brother's blood." Then would he turn
In anger, and in grief, as one who mourns
Temptation most, when urged by those he loves.
For well the invaders' courtly speech be prized,
Their arts, and lore, which shamed the forest sons;—
And proud of English costume,—with the gaude
Of epauletted shoulder, and rich belt
Whence hung the glittering sword, was pleased to flaunt.
—The people loved their monarch, who, close-wrapt
In robe of pliant deer-skin, with bold brow
Shaded by coronet of feathery plumes,
Would wheel the war-dance in its frantic round
Amid the flashing of their midnight fires,
Or in grave council, with high eloquence
Control the spirit.
                              —But the shaft of death
Regards not titles, and the forest king