Amenophis and Other Poems Sacred and Secular :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lone Empress, childless widow, whose sad heart
Knows its own bitterness—and hardly knows—
Death breaking on thee with redoubled blows,
And soul-benumbing smart;

Alone between two memories of past hours;—
Man has no word for pangs like thine!—yet we
For child and sire take up the dirge, to thee
Bringing our tears for flowers.

For he to France gave wealth, with peace, of yore,
And glory, till success and years unnerved
His soul, and from the wiser self he swerved;
And flattering friends, the sore

Which cankers single rule, and that first blot—
A crown by violence compass'd—work'd their will,
And Nemesis on the fatal frontier-hill
Changed in one hour his lot,

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Empire for exile:—and his head he bow'd
With no unmanly grief: while Party hate
Fanatic, o'er his final wreck elate,
And the foul city-crowd

Spat forth the venom of its seething scum
On the crush'd, broken-hearted chieftain: All
He wrought for France forgotten in his fall!
—France, of the days to come

Heedless: the shameful cloud with nightly glare
Hung bloodred o'er her streets; the rebel bands
Kindling death's pile with matricidal hands
'Gainst their own city fair.

Land of light memories! enterprises light!
Success alone constrains thy pride to bow!
Ungrateful France! thine idols crowning now,
Now burning, in thy spite!

O yet, this day, fair France! while she apart,
The widow-mother, sits in tearless woe,
Thy better self, thy nobler nature show,
Thy generous ancient heart!

This hope was hers, this only hope!—And now!
Past Itelezi, on Edutu's plain,
The wasted life-blood waits the winter's rain,
Earth's natural tears:—But thou,

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Seized by the joy of war, and fame in view
With all her sweetness, torrent-like didst go,
Making thy breast the target for our foe
Where the fell assegai flew.

Marcellus of thy race, untimely fled!
Loyal to France and God;—too young—too brave!
Whilst we—vain gift!—with violets crown the grave
Of the loved, honour'd dead.