And long those oaks, Destruction spar’d,
Grieve for the greatness, once they shar’d,
And sigh, while, ages hence, appear
The tracks of their remember’d deer,[[78]]
And scatter, careless, to the wind,
Fruits, for their Autumn feast design’d.
Thus, when that monster of the world[[79]]
Thy nobles from their honours hurl’d,
Oh France! a few, to fate resign’d,
All lost, but dignity of mind,