5

Thou might'st reign now hadst thon but will'd it so,
Ungrateful son of Laberty : but thou

Wast leagued against thy mother with her foe,
To hurl ber from her sacred throne and bow,
Her head unto the dust. For thou didst vow
To crush her 'neath thy o'erstretch'd power. Anon,
The cypress wreath that's twined for Freedom's brow
By tyranny, is ever placed upon

The tyrant's own: he falls and dies but she lives on.

Oh! was there nothing which thou couldst respect,
Rights, Justice, Oaths! must all of these, yea, all,
On thy ambition's fatal rock be wrecked?

Spain was our sister, and at glory's call

She shared our dangers, yet thou madest her fall,
Wishing her for a slave that thou might'st see

Her laurels chains, her standard made a pall,
But what thy pride had hoped was not to be:
Still thou didst give her crown to one too like to thee.

7

Twas night, the hour when solemn dreams come ofer
The troubled mind, with visions from the dead,
The hour when Brutus his sad Greuius saw,
Rising with awful visions round his head;
The hour when Richard on his troubled bed,
Saw the avenging manes, wild and agbast,

Of murder'd relatives, with awe and dread,
Flit by his curtains, and as each one pass'd,

It cursed a curse, and cried "Behold this night's thy last."

8

Twas such a night, Napoleon watched alone
In silence and in thought; before his face

An outstretch'd map was placed, o'er which were thrown
His eagle glances, seeking there to trace

Some secret road, some foe's strong turking-place.

Or else some luckless kingdom which was spent
With wars and the misdeeds of rulers base,
He raised his eyes, and io! before him went
Three sister-warriors' forms, and stood beneath his tent.

變成

9

The first was like a Roman maid, for pride
Was mix'd with sweet simplicity of mein.
Poor, and ennobled but by deeds, she eyed

Those of a higher caste with ances keen.
Her bronze skin told what sunny lands she'd seen,
And round her noble brow was lightly twined

A virgin-wreath of oak, so young, so green,
She leant her on a flag that waived behind,
And brought a day of fame eternal to the mind..

10

Three tinted rays shone on the sacred cloth;
The rays of Truth, of Justice and of Fame,
It was all blacken'd by the thunder's wrath,
And torn and bloody ; but it's wide rents came
In the proud strife of glory, not of shanie,
Twas torn by Victory's hand.-The maiden she
Address'd him thus," Soldier, thy tate I claim,
My sister, dread Marengo, must with thee,
Bow to my higher deeds, and take place after me.

""Twas I who guided on thy steps, 'twas I
First pointed out thy wild, thy bright career,
And whisper'd thee that word that mighty cry,
Which nerved the trembling arm and startled fear,
Oh! when it fell upon the list'ning ear,

It warm'd by soldiers' hearts. For all were fill'd

With son ething not of man when thou wast near, 'Neath Arcole's walls when death grasped all he will'd, He shrank away from thee, his fury bush'd and still'd.

12

"Thou'st changed my colors which led thee to fame,
And deck'd with glory thy triumphat car,

For a dark brazen sceptre. Oh! shame! shame! .
But soldier tremble, for I see afar

In the high heavens, thy bright, thy splendid star,
Eclipsed and paling at the opening day.

The sons of Force grow helpless when they are Without a curb, and have unbounded sway, Adieu! thy reign expires, thy glory fades away."

18

The second came from where the Palm trees waive
O'er the parch'd desart of the burning sand;
Where Egypt's spoils were gather'd by the brave,
The sun-lit fires that scorch'd her native land,
Live in her glances, conquest aims her hand,
Which as she lifts is dropping with the gore,
Of Islam's sons, that proud and tyrant band.
She holds at once great Cæsar's sword of
And the gold compass of Ptolemy of yore.

14

war,

"Oh! King, I've known thee banish'd hence," said she, Of Mount Thabor the celebrated day,

In thy bright records takes place after me.

Th' eternal name, the spoils I brought away From the proud Pyramids' feet, all these I lay To thee and thine, O! man of mighty deeds.

I see outstretch'd upon the Nile's dark clay Full many a Moslem corpse that lays and bleeds, While the white turban's rode o'er by thy gaulish steeds.

16

"If thou didst wander in thy glorious flight,
Twas as the bird that sought the sun's bright car,

And lost himself amidst a world of hight.

Yet thou would'st hide it.—Tremble, for afar,
In the high heavens I see thy gorgeous star,
Eclipsed and paling at th' approach of day.

The sons of Force grow helpless when they are
Without a cmb and have unbounded sway.
Adieu! thy reign is o'er, thy glory's pass'd away!"

16

The last, O! piteous sight, O! shame, disgrace! Her arms were bound with irons, and her eye Fell to the ground, where each step left a trace Bloody and deep. She moved on with a sigh, Muttering these words, "not conquer'd tho' I die!" She brought no victor's spoils, and her renowu Was not proclaim'd where captive colors fly, But round her biow, where dwell a troubled trown Cypress as fair as laurels twined a sombre crown.

17

"Oh! list and tremble, monarch for I say,
In thine eternal records after me,

Will come no other great or glorious day.
Of valour and of sorrow, I shall be
A cold, disasterous chronicle to thee.
And I shall liberate the kings that are

Held by thine iron grasp, and they shall see

The chains that bind their limbs with many a scar, Transferred to those who came to free them, from afar.

18

"When Time hath sped the world to after ages
Those wondering generations then will read
In the bright colunins of thy history's pages,
And they will doubt as scanning each great deed,
Whether those men that for thy fame did bleed,
Those living wrecks of many a daring fight,

Against far nations foes by birth and creed,
Are more immortalized in glory's sight,
By years of victory, or by one sad day of flight,

-19

"And thou shalt know me but when Fate's dark hand, Doth sweep away all save th' inconstant name,

Of what was once so mighty in the land.

I, too, shall drive thy star to whence it came, Breaking thy warlike sword. Thine eagle, tame, Will crushed beneath thy brazen sceptre lay.

The sons of Force grow helpless, blind and lame, When they 're uncurbed and have unbounded sway. Adieu! by reign expires, thy glory's pass'd away."

20

All three had fled, and left earth far behind, When each voice still the warrior seemed to hear: And on his dark, oppressed, astonished mind, Still weigh'd their strange forewarnings, but a near The rolling of the war-drum woke his ear; And with its stirring notes fresh thoughts were born E'en as the shades of midnight disappear, At the first peep of gay and addening morn, Or as the bad inal shrinks from Virtue's bursting scorn.

21

He thought to have subdued the sons of Spain,
And borne along on his e'er wand'ring car
Which carried war, and slav'ry's hateful chain,
Onwards he pass'd so proudly, from a far,
His steeds all smoking, tired and breathless are,
Already drink the dark and frozen wave

Of the deep Beresina,-Russia's bar,

While fresh from where the sun their flanks did lave With sweat and foam, but they for him all things could brave.

22

Beneath the faith of his unfaithful star,

He slept in false security, deceived

By those whose words are honey'd but who are
The mind's dark poiseners, these he believed
And thought them oracles, until bereaved
ΟΙ power, dominion, all: he was their mock,

He slept when dropping these, and nations grieved;
He oped his eyes, but at the thunder's shock,
And where did he awake? Upon a desert rock!

23

Alone, and in an island, far away

From all his scenes of glory, yet though there,
In his exile, his memory holds the sway

O'er men's minds still, 'tis present every where,
Great are his sorrows, and a prey to care
He stands upon his shatter'd fortune's wreck,

Leaving all dark what once was bright and fair.
But now Death's hand has fallen upon his neck,
And the vast sea doth wash the tomb that laurels deck.

24

Oh! thou who by no word or vow wast tied,

Thou whom an empire's bounds could not contain,

In a lone desert island thou hast died!

Thy head is laid where earthly things are vain,
And ne'er will rise to scare the world again!

At eve' the fisher loaded with a coil

Of nets, which he bears homewards with much pain, Rests by thy grave, and from it's sacred soil

Slowly retires, and thinks upon the morrow's toil.