XV. But in Man's dwellings he became a thing[gy] Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, Drooped as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing, To whom the boundless air alone were home: Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome, As eagerly the barred-up bird will beat His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage--so the heat Of his impeded Soul would through his bosom eat. XVI. Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again,[286] With nought of Hope left--but with less of gloom; The very knowledge that he lived in vain, That all was over on this side the tomb, Had made Despair a smilingness assume, Which, though 'twere wild,--as on the plundered wreck When mariners would madly meet their doom With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,-- Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check. XVII. Stop!--for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below! Is the spot marked with no colossal bust?[287] Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None; but _the moral's truth_ tells simpler so.--[gz][288] As the ground was before, thus let it be;--[ha] How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gained by thee, Thou first and last of Fields! king-making Victory? XVIII. And Harold stands upon this place of skulls, The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo![hb] How in an hour the Power which gave annuls Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too!-- In "pride of place" here last the Eagle flew,[1.B.] Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain,[hc] Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through; Ambition's life and labours all were vain-- He wears the shattered links of the World's broken chain.[hd] XIX. Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit And foam in fetters;--but is Earth more free?[289] Did nations combat to make _One_ submit? Or league to teach all Kings true Sovereignty?[he] What! shall reviving Thraldom again be The patched-up Idol of enlightened days? Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we Pay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze And servile knees to Thrones? No! _prove_ before ye praise! XX.