CANTO If. ' 63

Though in thy name the slaves her hosomwrung.

Tell not the deed to blushing Europe 's cars;The ocean queen, the free Britannia hearsThe last poor plunder from a bleeding laud:\cs, she, whose gen’rous aid her name endears.Tore down those remnants with a Harpy 's hand.Which envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left tostand.

XIV.

Where was thine Algis, Pallas! that appall’dStern Alaric and Havoc on their wayp ^Where Pelcus’ son? whom Hell in vainenthralled,

His shade from Hades upon that dread day.Bursting to light in terrible array !

What! could not Pluto spare the chief once{{, more.

To scare a second robber from his prey ?Idly he wander’d ou the Stygian shore,

^ior now preserv’d the walls he loved to shieldbefore.

XV.

Cold is the heart, fair Greece ! that looks onthec,

^or feels as lovers o’er the dust they lov'd;Dull is the eye that will not weep to see