LIV.
Yet then that Power, whose dwelling is on high,
Its loftiest marvels doth reveal, and speak,
In the deep human heart more gloriously,
Than in the bursting thunder!—Thence the weak,
They that seem'd form'd, as flower-stems, but to break
With the first wind, have risen to deeds, whose name
Still calls up thoughts that mantle to the cheek,
And thrill the pulse!—Ay, strength no pangs could tame
LV.
And this is of such hours!—That throne is void,
And its lord comes, uncrown'd. Behold him stand,
With a calm brow, where woes have not destroy'd
The Greek's heroic beauty, midst his band,
The gather'd virtue of a sinking land,
Alas! how scanty!—Now is cast aside
All form of princely state; each noble hand
Is prest by turns in his: for earthly pride
