XX.

If not, o'er one fallen Despot boast no more! In vain fair cheeks were furrowed with hot tears For Europe's flowers long rooted up before The trampler of her vineyards; in vain, years Of death, depopulation, bondage, fears, Have all been borne, and broken by the accord Of roused-up millions: all that most endears Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a Sword, Such as Harmodius[2.B.] drew on Athens' tyrant Lord.