XIV.
Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,
And gaze upon the sea;[ir]
That element may meet thy smile—
It ne'er was ruled by thee!
Or trace with thine all idle hand[is]
In loitering mood upon the sand
That Earth is now as free!
That Corinth's pedagogue[256] hath now
Transferred his by-word to thy brow.
XV.
Thou Timour! in his captive's cage[257][it]
What thoughts will there be thine,
While brooding in thy prisoned rage?
But one—"The world was mine!"
Unless, like he of Babylon,[258]
All sense is with thy sceptre gone,[259]
Life will not long confine
That spirit poured so widely forth—
So long obeyed—so little worth!
XVI.
Or, like the thief of fire from heaven,[260]
Wilt thou withstand the shock?
And share with him, the unforgiven,
His vulture and his rock!
Foredoomed by God—by man accurst,[iu]
And that last act, though not thy worst,
The very Fiend's arch mock;[261]
He in his fall preserved his pride,
And, if a mortal, had as proudly died![iv][262]
XVII.
There was a day—there was an hour,
While earth was Gaul's—Gaul thine—[iw]
When that immeasurable power
Unsated to resign
Had been an act of purer fame
Than gathers round Marengo's name
And gilded thy decline,
Through the long twilight of all time,
Despite some passing clouds of crime.