XXXIII.

And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze The Muse of History unrolls her page. But few, alas! the scenes her art displays, To charm his fancy, or his heart engage. Here, chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage, And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn: Here, smiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage, But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn, And languish in the dust, and clasp the abandoned urn.