L.
In silence, and in arms! With helm—with sword—
These are no marriage garments! Yet e’en now
Thy nuptial feast should grace the regal board,
Thy Georgian bride should wreathe her lovely brow
With an imperial diadem![214]—but thou,
O fated prince! art call’d, and these with thee,
To darker scenes; and thou hast learn’d to bow
Thine Eastern sceptre to the dread decree,
And count it joy enough to perish—being free!