Black Demons hovering o’er his mitred head,
To Cæsar’s Successor the Pontiff spake;
‘Ere I absolve thee, stoop! that on thy neck
Levelled with earth this foot of mine may tread.’
Then he, who to the altar had been led,
He, whose strong arm the Orient could not check,
He, who had held the Soldan at his beck,
Stooped, of all glory disinherited,
And even the common dignity of man!—
Amazement strikes the crowd: while many turn