Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/88

54 Ah, Monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye mar,

Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret;

The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet!

XLVIII.

How carols now the lusty muleteer?

Of Love, Romance, Devotion is his lay,

As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer,

His quick bells wildly jingling on the way?

No! as he speeds, he chants "Vivā el Rey!"N8

And checks his song to execrate Godoy,

The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day

When first Spain's queen beheld the black-eyed boy,

And gore-faced Treason sprung from her adulterate joy.

XLIX.

On yon long level plain, at distance crowned

With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest,