All regal crowns excelling;
A light and ever-shifting tent,
Wherein to make our dwelling;
A sword, which, more than rocks and walls
Doth shield us, brightly glistening;
A song that profits and enthrall,
For which the maids are list'ning!
1814. ——- DISCORD.
WHEN by the brook his strain
Cupid is fluting,
And on the neighboring plain
Mayors disputing,
There turns the ear ere long,
Loving and tender,
Yet to the noise a song