Shapes of Clay

Unhappy State! with horrors still to strive:

Thy Hugo dead, thy Boulanger alive;

A Prince who'd govern where he dares not dwell,

And who for power would his birthright sell—

Who, anxious o'er his enemies to reign,

Grabs at the scepter and conceals the chain;

While pugnant factions mutually strive

By cutting throats to keep the land alive.

Perverse in passion, as in pride perverse—

To all a mistress, to thyself a curse;

Sweetheart of Europe! every sun's embrace

Matures the charm and poison of thy grace.

Yet time to thee nor peace nor wisdom brings:

In blood of citizens and blood of kings

The stones of thy stability are set,

And the fair fabric trembles at a threat.