His swelling empire cannot bound,
But every day new colonies of dead
Enhance his conquests, and advance his throne.
The mighty City sav'd from storms of War,
Exempted from the crimson flood,
When all the land o'erflow'd with blood,
70Stoops yet once more to a new conqueror:
The City which so many rivals bred,
Sackcloth is on her loins, and ashes on her head.