Of those who dried its sources; flowers unfold
Their tints, nor tell how they have fed on human mould.
Now from the broad expanse his eye surveys,
Ambition! summon forth thy votaries!
Whose eagle vision drank the noontide blaze,
Whose eagle pinions fanned the highest breeze.
Power! thou that gloried’st in the bending knees
Of millions of God’s humbled creatures—seek
Thy favorites now, who strode through bloody seas
To thrones, it may be, and upon the weak,