X. And Earth hath spilt her blood for him, Who thus can hoard his own! And Monarchs bowed the trembling limb, Fair Freedom! we may hold thee dear, Nor written thus in vain Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, If thou hadst died as honour dies, To shame the world again- XII 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. XIII. And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, 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 vanished diadem! XIV. Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, And gaze upon the sea; That element may meet thy smile, Or trace with thine all idle hand That Earth is now as free! That Corinth's pedagogue hath now XV. Thou Timour! in his captive's cage* What thoughts will there be thine, While brooding in thy prisoned rage? But one- "The world was mine :" All sense is with thy sceptre gone, That spirit pour'd so widely forth- XVI. Or like the thief of fire from heaven,† Foredoomed by God-by man accurst, * The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane. † Prometheus. To lip a wanton, and suppose her chaste."— "The fiend's arch mock Shakspeare. Ꭰ MONODY, WHEN the last sunshine of expiring day A glorious sympathy with suns that set? |