XXVI.

And ever since that martial Synod met, Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name; And folks in office at the mention fret,[bj] And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame. How will Posterity the deed proclaim! Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer, To view these champions cheated of their fame, By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here, Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year?