CANTO II.

l3 7

They hut required a shelter, and 'twas given.By him no peasant mourn’d his rifled cot,And scarce the Serf could murmur o’er his lot;W ith him old avarice found its hoard secure,With him contempt forbore to mock the poor;Youth present cheer and promised rocompenceDetaiued, till all too late to part from thence : 85 oTo hate he offered, with the coming change, #The deep reversion of delayed revenge;

To love, long baffled by the unequal match,The well-won charms success was sure to suatch.All now wok ripe, he waits but to proclaimThat slavery nothing which was still a name.The moment came, the hour when Otho thoughtSecure at last the vengeance which he sought:His summons found the destined criminalBegirt by thousands in his swarming hall, 8fioFresh from their feudal fetters newly riven.Defying earth, and confident of heaven.

That liioruiug he had freed the soil - hound stavesWho dig no land for tyrants but their graves!Such is their cry — some watchword for the fightMust vindicate the wrong, and warp the right:Religion —freedom — vengeance — what you will,A word’s enough to raise mankind to kill;

Some factious phrase by cunning caught andspread.

That guilt may reign, and wolves and wormsbe fed’ 870