Lost Percy Bysshe Shelley poem 'The Existing State of Things'

Read it here in full: 

Fell Despotism sits by the red glare

Of Discord’s torch, kindling the flames of war.

For thee then does the Muse her sweetest lay 

Pour ’mid the shrieks of war, ’mid dire dismay; 

For thee does Fame’s obstrep’rous clarion rise, 

Does Praise’s voice raise meanness to the skies.

Are we then sunk so deep in darkest gloom,

That selfish pride can virtue’s garb assume?

Does real greatness in false splendour live?

When narrow views the futile mind deceive,

When thirst of wealth, or frantic rage for fame,

Lights for awhile self-interest’s little flame,

When legal murders swell the lists of pride;

When glory’s views the titled idiot guides.