Chapter LXXXIII

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And they may fall--but who shall date thy end?
Lo! all the past has giv'n its light to thee:
Expiring Rome, like a departing friend,
Gave solemn warning to thy liberty:
And e'en the empires, fabulously old
In fruitful fable, have a moral told;
What say their fallen kings and shrineless God?
There is no "right divine" in the fell tyrant's rod!