My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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THE TWO NAPOLEONS. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
400
THE TWO NAPOLEONS.
One
shook the world with Earthquake. Like a fiend
He sprang exultant—all hell following after!
The Other, in burst of bubble and whiff of wind,
Shook the world too,—with laughter!
He sprang exultant—all hell following after!
The Other, in burst of bubble and whiff of wind,
Shook the world too,—with laughter!
The One out-wearied wingèd Victory!
So swift he went, his Spirit would out-fly her;
The Other wore her out with waiting; he
So failed to keep up by her!
So swift he went, his Spirit would out-fly her;
The Other wore her out with waiting; he
So failed to keep up by her!
One bitted France like some wild beast; and when
He had mounted, reined and rode until he tamed it;
The Other threw it down by stealth, and then
Most infamously maimed it.
He had mounted, reined and rode until he tamed it;
The Other threw it down by stealth, and then
Most infamously maimed it.
The First at least a splendid Meteor shone!
The Second fizzed and fell, an aimless rocket;
Kingdoms were pocketed for France by one,
The other picked her pocket.
The Second fizzed and fell, an aimless rocket;
Kingdoms were pocketed for France by one,
The other picked her pocket.
Such as it was, Napoleon gave her all
The dazzle of his glory to bedeck her!
The other spread his gloom for a funeral Pall,
Like Glory's Undertaker.
The dazzle of his glory to bedeck her!
The other spread his gloom for a funeral Pall,
Like Glory's Undertaker.
That showed the Sphinx in front, with Lion-paws,
Cold lust of death in the sleek face of her,—
This the turned, cowering tail and currish claws,
And hindermost disgrace of her.
Cold lust of death in the sleek face of her,—
This the turned, cowering tail and currish claws,
And hindermost disgrace of her.
401
In the eyes of France, one shook down showers of stars
As jewels for her breast; this breaks her heart—a
Vain dream to think of Buonapartè's Wars
Without your Bounapartè.
As jewels for her breast; this breaks her heart—a
Vain dream to think of Buonapartè's Wars
Without your Bounapartè.
One took the World as 'twere his natural throne,
And God Himself had crowned him at its portal!
But for his Second-Hand Napoleon
The Lie had been immortal.
And God Himself had crowned him at its portal!
But for his Second-Hand Napoleon
The Lie had been immortal.
That was a living thing, whose Shadow made
The heart of Nations shiver; This was never
More than the shadow of a Dead man's Shade
The world shakes off for ever.
The heart of Nations shiver; This was never
More than the shadow of a Dead man's Shade
The world shakes off for ever.
| My Lyrical Life | |