 | Historical Odes and Other Poems |  |
1.
Came down on Gallia, Père la Violette:
His veterans named him so, and sternly set
His martial blazon on their breasts again;
Long had they mourned his absence with the pain
Of devotees, their idol cast in shade;
They bore him on their shields, while fled dismayed
Legitimacy, and the realm was his.
His veterans named him so, and sternly set
His martial blazon on their breasts again;
Long had they mourned his absence with the pain
Of devotees, their idol cast in shade;
They bore him on their shields, while fled dismayed
Legitimacy, and the realm was his.
The smile was withered on the lips of peace;
The congress of the kings, that met
To arbitrate on crowns, was scattered far
By the fierce look of war.
Nor wholly undeserved their overset,
For golden languor, pleasure, vulgar thought,
Hollow ambition, had invaded them;
And that pacification ill was wrought
Which sunk the right below the diadem,
And yielded Poland to the Czar.
The congress of the kings, that met
To arbitrate on crowns, was scattered far
By the fierce look of war.
Nor wholly undeserved their overset,
For golden languor, pleasure, vulgar thought,
Hollow ambition, had invaded them;
And that pacification ill was wrought
Which sunk the right below the diadem,
And yielded Poland to the Czar.
22
Napoleon, e'en in that eleventh hour
Had thy vast soul recalled its godlike power
To utter freedom to the world, and be,
What God designs in all, and so designed in thee—
Yet one more issue to infinity—
Then were thy doom a thing of woe; but now
The light of truth had left thy brow,
The early hope which 'neath Italian skies
To thee drew wistful eyes,
When thy inspirèd face uplifted glowed
In each victorious sunset on thy road
Of blameless battle for thy country fought,
Not for thine empire; big with thought,
Pathetic, in the passion of its youth
Begetting noble truth.
Now sensual ambition, mastering all,
Had made that soul a thrall;
And all thy thoughts were faded and grown old,
Not leading progress to the goal of gold;
And he who wrought thine overthrow,
Leading the men who laboured to restore
The limitations of the age before,
He thy conqueror, he thy foe,
Was heaven's own champion for the rights of man.
Thine eagle fell behind; his lion led the van.
Had thy vast soul recalled its godlike power
To utter freedom to the world, and be,
What God designs in all, and so designed in thee—
Yet one more issue to infinity—
Then were thy doom a thing of woe; but now
The light of truth had left thy brow,
The early hope which 'neath Italian skies
To thee drew wistful eyes,
When thy inspirèd face uplifted glowed
In each victorious sunset on thy road
Of blameless battle for thy country fought,
Not for thine empire; big with thought,
Pathetic, in the passion of its youth
Begetting noble truth.
Now sensual ambition, mastering all,
Had made that soul a thrall;
And all thy thoughts were faded and grown old,
Not leading progress to the goal of gold;
And he who wrought thine overthrow,
Leading the men who laboured to restore
The limitations of the age before,
He thy conqueror, he thy foe,
Was heaven's own champion for the rights of man.
Thine eagle fell behind; his lion led the van.
| Historical Odes and Other Poems | |