The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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The Death of Napoleon.—I. McLellan, Jun.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
369
The Death of Napoleon.—I. McLellan, Jun.
“The fifth of May came amid wind and rain. Napoleon's passing spirit was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than the elements around. The words ‘tete d'armée,’ (head of the army,) the last which escaped from his lips, intimated that his thoughts were watching the current of a heady fight. About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon expired.”—
Scott's Life of Napoleon.
Wild was the night; yet a wilder night
Hung round the soldier's pillow;
In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight
Than the fight on the wrathful billow.
Hung round the soldier's pillow;
In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight
Than the fight on the wrathful billow.
A few fond mourners were kneeling by,
The few that his stern heart cherished;
They knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye,
That life had nearly perished.
The few that his stern heart cherished;
They knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye,
That life had nearly perished.
They knew by his awful and kingly look,
By the order hastily spoken,
That he dreamed of days when the nations shook,
And the nations' hosts were broken.
By the order hastily spoken,
That he dreamed of days when the nations shook,
And the nations' hosts were broken.
He dreamed that the Frenchman's sword still slew,
And triumphed the Frenchman's ‘eagle;’
And the struggling Austrian fled anew,
Like the hare before the beagle.
And triumphed the Frenchman's ‘eagle;’
And the struggling Austrian fled anew,
Like the hare before the beagle.
The bearded Russian he scourged again,
The Prussian's camp was routed,
And again, on the hills of haughty Spain,
His mighty armies shouted.
The Prussian's camp was routed,
And again, on the hills of haughty Spain,
His mighty armies shouted.
Over Egypt's sands, over Alpine snows,
At the pyramids, at the mountain,
Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows,
And by the Italian fountain,
At the pyramids, at the mountain,
Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows,
And by the Italian fountain,
On the snowy cliffs, where mountain-streams
Dash by the Switzer's dwelling,
He led again, in his dying dreams,
His hosts, the broad earth quelling.
Dash by the Switzer's dwelling,
He led again, in his dying dreams,
His hosts, the broad earth quelling.
370
Again Marengo's field was won,
And Jena's bloody battle;
Again the world was overrun,
Made pale at his cannons' rattle.
And Jena's bloody battle;
Again the world was overrun,
Made pale at his cannons' rattle.
He died at the close of that darksome day,
A day that shall live in story:
In the rocky land they placed his clay,
‘And left him alone with his glory.’
A day that shall live in story:
In the rocky land they placed his clay,
‘And left him alone with his glory.’
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