Of tottering Albion! Ye eternal fires, 620
That lead thro’ heav’n the wandering year! Ye powers,
That o’er th’ incircling elements preside!
May nothing worse than what this age has seen
Arrive! Enough abroad, enough at home
Has Albion bled. Here a distemper’d heaven 625
Has thin’d her cities; from those lofty cliffs
That awe proud Gaul, to Thule’s wintry reign;
While in the West, beyond th’ Atlantic foam,
Her bravest sons, keen for the fight, have died