With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.
The triumph, and the vanity,
The rapture of the strife—
The earthquake voice of Victory, 30
To thee the breath of life;
The sword, the sceptre, and that sway
Which man seemed made but to obey,
Wherewith renown was rife—
All quelled!—Dark Spirit! what must be 35
The madness of thy memory!