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X.

And Earth hath spilt her blood for him,

Who thus can hoard his own! And Monarchs bowed the trembling limb,

And thanked him for a throne ! Fair Freedom ! we may hold thee dear, When thus thy mightiest foes their fear

In humblest guise have shown. Oh! ne'er may tyrant leave behind A brighter name to lure mankind !

XI.

Thine evil deeds are writ in gore,

Nor written thus in vain

Thy triumphs tell of fame no more,

Or deepen every stain.
If thou hadst. died as honour dies,
Some new Napoleon might arise,

To shame the world again-
But who would soar the solar height,
To set in such a starless night?

XII.
Weighed 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 deemed Contempt could thus make mirth
Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.

XIII.

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 vanished diadem!

XIV.

Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,

And gaze upon the sea;
That element may meet thy smile,

It ne'er was ruled by thee!
Or trace with thine all idle hand,
In loitering mood, upon the sand,

That Earth is now as free!
That Corinth's pedagogue hath now
Transferred his by-word to thy brow.

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?"
Unless, like he of Babylon,
All sense is with thy sceptre gone,

Life will not long confine
That spirit poured so widely forth-
So long obeyed--so little worth!

6

XVI.
Or like the thief of fire from heaven,

Wilt thou withstand the shock?
And share with him, the unforgiven,

His vulture and his rock! Foredoomed by God-by man accurst, And that last act, though not thy worst, The very

Fiend's arch mock;? He in his fall preserved his pride, And, if a mortal, had as proudly died !

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