LXXX.

So said the Florentine: ye monarchs, hearken To your instructor. Juan now was borne, Just as the day began to wane and darken, O'er the high hill, which looks with pride or scorn Toward the great city.--Ye who have a spark in Your veins of Cockney spirit, smile or mourn According as you take things well or ill;-- Bold Britons, we are now on Shooter's Hill!