 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
18
XIV. On a Picture of the Corpse of Napoleon lying in State.
Lo! there he lies. Is Death no more than this?Is this the worst that mighty mortal can
Inflict upon his fellow? Could the man—
The strongest arm of angry Nemesis,—
The rod that routed hosts were fain to kiss,
Whom failing Faith afar with terror eyed,
And Atheism madly deified—
Could he with all his wars and policies
Effect but this? To antedate a year
That cold unfeeling calm, that even now
Blanks the dark meaning of that deep-lined brow,
And from the loose lip half uncurls the sneer?
If such be Death, O man, then what art thou,
That for the fear of Death would'st live in fear?
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |