Let this not seem an anti-climax:—"Oh!

My guard! my old guard!"[548] exclaimed that god of clay.

Think of the Thunderer's falling down below

Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh![KG]Alas! that glory should be chilled by snow!

But should we wish to warm us on our way

Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name

Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame.