Art plies his oar, and Commerce pours her horn.
Long had the giant-form on Gallia’s plains
Inglorious slept, unconscious of his chains;
Round his large limbs were wound a thousand strings
By the weak hands of confessors and kings;
O’er his closed eyes a triple veil was bound,
And steely rivets lock’d him to the ground;
While stern Bastile with iron-cage inthralls
His folded limbs, and hems in marble walls.—Ed.]
NOTES TO LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.