That placed thee on the imperial throne.
No! it was courage, promptness, skill,
The soul resolved, the steadfast will,
Nor sensual bliss, nor trivial aim,
Could e’er seduce, could e’er inflame:
Ardour that glowed in polar snows,
And energy that feared repose.
Had these not mingled with thy crimes,
The tragic theme of future times,
Nor diadem had bound thy brows,