 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
ON THE SEMPLON.
Napoleon, thou'st raised a monumentHere of thy pow'r and genius, greater far
Than aught the wake of thy triumphal car
Could leave behind—great intellect mis-spent,
And boundless means but folly's aliment!
And, as I view it, the false bays of war
Wither from thy proud brow, and yon' calm star
(Not that of bloody Mars, which ever went
Before thee, evilboding) but the clear,
Calm star of peace, from its untroubled sphere,
One ray divine has lent that brow instead!
Then learn from hence how soon doth disappear
False glory: and that this same road I tread,
Must be thy only path to Fame, when dead!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |