Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/435

CANTO IV.] Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel

The wrath of thy own wrongs, or reap the due

Of hoarded vengeance till thine Eagles flew

O'er prostrate Asia;—thou, who with thy frown

Annihilated senates;—Roman, too,

With all thy vices—for thou didst lay down

With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown,

LXXXIV.

Thy dictatorial wreath—couldst thou divine

To what would one day dwindle that which made