Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/442

400 Proud of their trampled nature, and so die,

Bequeathing their hereditary rage

To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage

War for their chains, and rather than be free,

Bleed gladiator-like, and still engage

Within the same Arena where they see

Their fellows fall before, like leaves of the same tree.

XCV.

I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between

Man and his Maker—but of things allowed,

Averred, and known, and daily, hourly seen—

The yoke that is upon us doubly bowed,

And the intent of Tyranny avowed,

The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown

The apes of him who humbled once the proud,

And shook them from their slumbers on the throne;

Too glorious, were this all his mighty arm had done.

XCVI.

Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,

And Freedom find no Champion and no Child