And we were proud of him, as France was proud.
Ay! call'd him brother,—though he lov'd us not;
And we were thrill'd when, ruthless from a cloud,
The bolt of death outstretch'd him for a shroud.
VIII.
Thou'rt great as he by fame and force of song,
But less than he as spokesman of his Land.
For thou hast rail'd at thine, to do it wrong,
And call'd it coward though its faith is strong.
IX.