XVI.

Where shall I turn me not to _view_ its bonds, For I will never _feel_ them?--Italy! Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds Beneath the lie this State-thing breathed o'er thee[11]-- Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds, Have voices--tongues to cry aloud for me. Europe has slaves--allies--kings--armies still-- And Southey lives to sing them very ill.