Chapter 102 of 280 · 49 words · ~1 min read

VIII.

The Spaniard, when the lust of sway Had lost its quickening spell,[252] Cast crowns for rosaries away, An empire for a cell; A strict accountant of his beads, A subtle disputant on creeds, His dotage trifled well:[253] Yet better had he neither known A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne.