University of Virginia Library

Thou too, Napoleon, how didst thou exult
In all thy might and fame. Now too how changed!
Thy kingdom gone, how art thou driven from men,
From the great world, to spend thy days alone,
To make thee know there is a God that reigns
And gives the crowns of earth to whom he will.
By mad ambition led, how didst thou ride
With streaming colours o'er the restless waves
Of human glory. Now how art thou cast
Upon a cheerless rock, in deep disgrace,
A spectacle and warning to the world;
Thy fortunes the career, thy fate the end
Of earthly greatness, in its proudest form.
How art thou fallen! so low that e'en thy foes
Lose half their indignation at thy crimes
In pity for thy melancholy fate.
Kept in thy rocky tower, thou now art viewed
With safety, though with trembling, as long known
The tiger that had ravaged half the world.
The wand'rers of the sea who pass thine isle
And mark the spot, how small, and wild, and lone,
With wagging head and taunting lips inquire,
Is this the man that caused the earth to quake?
That burnt her cities, laid her countries waste,
And shook her thrones and kingdoms to the dust?
Where now the objects of thy heart's delight,
Where now the pomp of armies in array,
The waving banners and the dazzling arms,
The trumpet's clang, the neighing of fierce steeds,
The din of martial bands, the word, the shout,
That rouse and fire and madden all the soul
While panting for the onset, or amidst
The heat of battle? Where the victory proud,
The rattling of thy furious chariot wheels
O'er crumbling crowns and plains of bleaching bones,
The spoil of nations? the triumphal train?
The acclamation of saluting crowds,
And all the ensigns of renown and pow'r?
Gone like the pageants of a maniac's brain.
Poor solitary man, what hast thou more,
What hast thou left congenial to thy mind
To busy its dread workings, and content
Its boundless longings? What to give support
To thy faint heart in all its sinking hours?
Ah, what to smooth the rough decline of life
And light thee through the shadowy vale of death?
Hadst though not cast away the truth of God,
Denied thy Saviour, turned thy back on heaven
And braved the wrath to come from early youth,
In some desponding hour, when self-immured,
Or in some lonely walk o'er bloodless plains
Or heights from which thick ranks of coming waves
Are seen afar, as if from Europe sent
To bear to thee dread visions of the past,
And roar and dash around thy rocky isle
To wake thy conscience from its torpid sleep,
The hope were strong that mem'ry thus beset
Would bring thy crimes in long and black array
To thy astonished view, nor rest permit
Till by omnipotence an entrance wide
Were opened for conviction and remorse
Into each fortified recess within.
How would the generous heart of every land
Rejoice, should penitence yet mark the close
Of thy eventful life, and mercy wash
Thy spirit pure in its all cleansing fount!
How welcome were the tidings that the peace
Of heaven, the fruit of child-like faith and love,
In thy tumultuous bosom had begun
Its gentle reign. How far from hateful, nay
How lovely and how truly great wert thou
On bended knees at thy Redeemer's feet,
Dumb with confusion or with loud lament
O'er thy offences, pleading for his grace,
And bowing to his will with pride subdued.
That were the vict'ry of a noble mind.
Thy triumphs o'er mankind have made thee known,
A vict'ry o'er thyself would make thee great.
The conquest of the world were mean to this,
More than an earthly diadem were thine,
And more than immortality in name.

But if no season of relenting come
With hope attendant, one will come at last
Fraught with despair eternal and intense.
Though thou hast peopled the dark realms of death
These many years with an unfeeling heart,
A scene is coming which will make thee feel.
With all thy hardihood thou canst not stand
Unmoved a moment, when before the bar
Of stern impartial justice, millions slain
By thy ambition, cut off unprepared
And sent to judgment, millions more bereaved,
All cry for vengeance on thy single head.
Then shall past glory but increase thy shame.
Then wouldst thou gladly into nothing shrink,
Or be the most obscure of all the slaves
That ever crouched and trembled at thy nod.