XVI.

When Athens' armies fell at Syracuse, And fettered thousands bore the yoke of war, Redemption rose up in the Attic Muse, Her voice their only ransom from afar: See! as they chant the tragic hymn, the car Of the o'ermastered victor stops, the reins Fall from his hands--his idle scimitar Starts from its belt--he rends his captive's chains, And bids him thank the bard for freedom and his strains.