4. The triumph, and the vanity, The rapture of the strife— (1) The earthquake voice of Victory, The sword, the sceptre, and that sway All quell'd!-Dark Spirit! what must be 5. The Desolator desolate! The Victor overthrown! The Arbiter of others' fate A Suppliant for his own! Is it some yet imperial hope That with such change can calmly cope? Or dread of death alone? To die a prince-or live a slave- VOL. V. I 6. He (2) who of old would rend the oak, Dream'd not of the rebound; Chain'd by the trunk he vainly brokeAlone-how look'd he round? Thou in the sternness of thy strength And darker fate hast found: But thou must eat thy heart away! 7. The Roman, (3) when his burning heart Was slaked with blood of Rome, Threw down the dagger-dared depart, In savage grandeur, home.— He dared depart in utter scorn Of men that such a yoke had borne, Yet left him such a doom! His only glory was that hour Of self-upheld abandon'd power. 10. And Earth hath spilt her blood for him, Who thus can hoard his own! And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb, Fair Freedom! we may hold thee dear, 11. Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, If thou hadst died as honour dies, Some new Napoleon might arise, Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Is vile as vulgar clay; Thy scales, Mortality! are just To all that pass away; But yet methought the living great Some higher sparks should animate, To dazzle and dismay; Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth Of these, the Conquerors of the earth. And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, Thy still imperial bride; How bears her breast the torturing hour? Still clings she to thy side? Must she too bend, must she too share Thy late repentance, long despair, Thou throneless Homicide? If still she loves thee, hoard that gem, "Tis worth thy vanish'd diadem! |