Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/399

CANTO IV.] With the surrounding maniacs, in the hell

Where he had plunged it. Glory without end

Scattered the clouds away—and on that name attend

XXXVII.

The tears and praises of all time, while thine

Would rot in its oblivion—in the sink

Of worthless dust, which from thy boasted line

Is shaken into nothing—but the link

Thou formest in his fortunes bids us think

Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn:

Alfonso! how thy ducal pageants shrink

From thee! if in another station born,

Scarce fit to be the slave of him thou mad'st to mourn:

XXXVIII.

Thou! formed to eat, and be despised, and die,

Even as the beasts that perish—save that thou

Hadst a more splendid trough and wider sty:—

He! with a glory round his furrowed brow,

Which emanated then, and dazzles now,

In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire, N10