Who could a day behold these deathly hosts,。，
Cannon his name,。，To sit on History in an easy chair,
OUTSIDE THE CROWD。，With every sleek convolvement serpentine;
And put upon the day a deathless crown.。，Her skies lowered black,
Conjure a heart into the trebly felled.。，The cataract of the abyss, the star of stars;
His cataracts at smooth holiday, soon to roar。，All Britain was when wind and wave,
And in compute of sin, was hers the appealing sin.。，Though not the stream of the paternal smile:
Hosts fell; what he constructed held rock-fast.。，VII
Nor deadlier Jove's avengeing right hand, than he of the brain。，Through shadowed reaches into crimson-dyed:
Armed to support her sword;--lest we compose。，For Europe to cross, and see the thing lost subsist.
And now along the dark blue vault might seem。，Cheerful apprentices, they shall be masters soon!
Of human sketches, quaver-figures, bent,。，Cold Dissolution beck, she had flung hence;
VIII。，In cries ecstatic, as of the martyr-Blest,
And bade drudge History in his footprints tread,。，Then flinging heels, as charioteers the reins,
From duress in the swamp of their increase.。，Beneath an immarcessible Charlemagne.
The fair subservient of Imperial Fact。，The vision of it watered thirst.
Mid shrieks and torrent-hooves; but these,。，For domination, freedom, lust,
，With faith, that of privations and spilt blood,。，At wrestle with the tyrannic strong;