I.

With many a bitter thought and heavy sigh, The grave Salustian his discourse resumed:-- “Iberia fell, my children--but her eye No pomp of battle, no big war illumed. ’Twas fraud and treason her destruction doomed! France came as an ally--her Lares seized-- The joy-pealed cannon soon in hatred boomed. And reckless Murat well his master pleased, His foul behests fulfilled, his rapine-thirst appeased.