Excerpt from The Story of Inca Rocca
Prelude.
True to her native gifts the wood-bird weaves
Her matchless nest, and high amid the leaves
Pours out her song of sweetest melody.
The wisely prudent bee, unerringly,
Perfects the angles of her house of wax,
And from her flowery kingdom gathers tax,
Though guideless and unschooled. The tawny deer
Breaks through the wood and with light-footed fear
Flies from the hungry wolf on greed intent,
Then swims the lake to thwart the wolfish scent.
So man, though isolate for ages past,
Cut off by eons, as by oceans vast,
From other climes, where knowledge great hath grown,
Yet doth reveal his kinship, and hath shown,
That like the bird, the bee, the dappled hind,
He hath the native cunning of his kind;
Buildeth his hut where sweetest waters flow,
Fashions the spear-head and the sounding bow;
Lives by the chase, contends in savage wars,
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