There is a majesty in kingly hearts
Which changing time nor fickle fate can quell:
He stood—reveal'd from his own lips, "The King
Of fallen Naples." At those stirring words
A hundred swords unsheath'd; for on his head
A princely price was set, and flight he scorn'd;
For grasp'd his hand the well-accustom'd blade;
And vainly fought—
His hour is come! behold the dauntless man