[Poems by Sigourney in] The ladies' wreath a selection from the female poetic writers of England and America |
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 | [Poems by Sigourney in] The ladies' wreath |  |
230
NATURE'S ROYALTY.
“Show me a king, whose high decree
By all his realm is blest,
Whose heaven-deputed sway, shall be
Deep in his subject's breast.”
And lo, a lofty throne was nigh,
A gorgeous purple robe,
A crowned brow and eagle eye
That aimed to rule the globe.
By all his realm is blest,
Whose heaven-deputed sway, shall be
Deep in his subject's breast.”
And lo, a lofty throne was nigh,
A gorgeous purple robe,
A crowned brow and eagle eye
That aimed to rule the globe.
231
Peers at his bidding came and went,
Proud hosts to battle trod;
Even high-soul'd Genius lowly bent,
And hailed him as a God.
Wealth spread her treasures to his sight,
Fame bade her clarion roll,
But yet his sceptre seem'd to blight
The freedom of the soul.
Proud hosts to battle trod;
Even high-soul'd Genius lowly bent,
And hailed him as a God.
Wealth spread her treasures to his sight,
Fame bade her clarion roll,
But yet his sceptre seem'd to blight
The freedom of the soul.
And deep within his bosom lay
The poison'd thorn of care,
Nor ermined pomp, nor regal sway
Forbade its rankling there.
No fearless truth his ear addressed,
Though crowds extolled his ways,
A hollow-hearted thing at best
Was all their courtly praise.
The poison'd thorn of care,
Nor ermined pomp, nor regal sway
Forbade its rankling there.
No fearless truth his ear addressed,
Though crowds extolled his ways,
A hollow-hearted thing at best
Was all their courtly praise.
I saw Suspicion cloud his day,
And Fear his firmness move,
And felt there was no perfect sway
Save what is built on love.
“Show me a king.”—They brought a child
Clad in his robe of white,
His golden curls waved loose and wild,
His full blue eye was bright.
And Fear his firmness move,
And felt there was no perfect sway
Save what is built on love.
“Show me a king.”—They brought a child
Clad in his robe of white,
His golden curls waved loose and wild,
His full blue eye was bright.
A haughty warrior strode that way,
Whose crest had never bowed
Beneath his brother of the clay
In battle or in crowd:—
Yet down before that babe he bent,
A captive to his charms,
And meek as with a slave's intent,
Receiv'd him in his arms.
Whose crest had never bowed
Beneath his brother of the clay
In battle or in crowd:—
Yet down before that babe he bent,
A captive to his charms,
And meek as with a slave's intent,
Receiv'd him in his arms.
232
Beauty was near, and love's warm sigh
Burst forth from manhood's breast,
While pride was kindling in that eye
Which saw its power confest:—
“Sing me a song,” the urchin cried,
And from her lips did part,
A strain to kneeling man denied,
Rich music of the heart.
Burst forth from manhood's breast,
While pride was kindling in that eye
Which saw its power confest:—
“Sing me a song,” the urchin cried,
And from her lips did part,
A strain to kneeling man denied,
Rich music of the heart.
A sage austere, for learning famed,
Frown'd with abstracted air:
“Tell me a tale,” the boy exclaimed,
And boldly climbed his chair:—
While he—(how wondrous was the change!)
Poured forth in language free,
Enforced with gestures strong and strange,
A tale of Araby.
Frown'd with abstracted air:
“Tell me a tale,” the boy exclaimed,
And boldly climbed his chair:—
While he—(how wondrous was the change!)
Poured forth in language free,
Enforced with gestures strong and strange,
A tale of Araby.
“I sought a king.”—And Nature cried
His royalty revere,
Who conquers beauty, power and pride,
Thus with a smile or tear.
The crowned despot's eye may wake,
His bosom grieve alone,
But infant Innocence doth make
The human heart its throne.
His royalty revere,
Who conquers beauty, power and pride,
Thus with a smile or tear.
The crowned despot's eye may wake,
His bosom grieve alone,
But infant Innocence doth make
The human heart its throne.
233
STANZAS.
“Arise ye, and depart,—for this is not your rest.”
Micah ii. 8, 10.
Micah ii. 8, 10.
The vines are wither'd oh, my love,
That erst we taught to tower,
And in a mesh of fragrance wove,
Around our summer-bower.
That erst we taught to tower,
And in a mesh of fragrance wove,
Around our summer-bower.
The ivy on the ancient wall
Doth in its budding fade;
The stream is dry,—whose gentle fall
A lulling murmur made.
Doth in its budding fade;
The stream is dry,—whose gentle fall
A lulling murmur made.
The tangled weeds have chok'd the flowers;
The trees so lately bright,
In all the pomp of vernal hours
Reveal a blackening blight.
The trees so lately bright,
In all the pomp of vernal hours
Reveal a blackening blight.
There is a sigh upon the gale
That doth the willow sway,
A murmur from the blossoms pale,
“Arise, and come away.”
That doth the willow sway,
A murmur from the blossoms pale,
“Arise, and come away.”
So, when this life in clouds shall hide
Its garland fair and brief,
And every promise of its pride
Doth wear the frosted leaf;
Its garland fair and brief,
And every promise of its pride
Doth wear the frosted leaf;
Then may the undying soul attain
That heritage sublime,
Where comes no pang of parting pain,
No change of hoary time.
That heritage sublime,
Where comes no pang of parting pain,
No change of hoary time.
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