From yon proud height, whose olive-shaded brow
Commands the wide luxuriant plains below,
Who lingering gazes o’er the lovely scene,
Anguish and shame contending in his mien
He who of heroes and of kings the son,
Hath lived to lose whate’er his fathers won;
Whose doubts and fears his people’s fate have seal’d,
Wavering alike in council and in field;
Weak, timid ruler of the wise and brave,
Still a fierce tyrant or a yielding slave.