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Lays of Leisure Hours

By The Lady E. Stuart Wortley

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TO NAPOLEON IN THE GRAVE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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106

TO NAPOLEON IN THE GRAVE.

Come forth—thou harsh oppressor,
Thou marked and stained transgressor;
Be thou the elect redresser,
Be thou now the intercessor;
So may the dewy olive twine
Of pardon and of peace be thine.
Thou set'st the dire example
To tyrannize and trample,
Earth's rulers love such sample,
They should yield thee honour ample!
Be it thine to make sublime amends,
And call thy fellow-creatures Friends!

107

But no, thine hour is over!
Thou fiery discord-lover!
Who can earth's master-mover
I'the dust of death discover?
Now—now the subject and the slave
Art thou of the all o'erpowering grave!
Could'st thou mark the mighty sorrows
Which each fresh fervour borrows
From fear of worse to-morrows,
While yawn Earth's deep-trenched furrows;
Thou might'st lament—Oh! sceptered Dead,
The wrongs by thine example spread!
For Oh! when wrath's fierce fever
Is roused by mad endeavour,
It seems to increase for ever,
To sink and languish—never;
And thou that dreadful impulse gave,
So strong to harm—so weak to save!

108

Too soon man's heart embraces
With all that stains—debases;
Too stubborn prove those traces,
Which nought but time effaces;
So easy 'tis to inflict the wrong
Which Heaven alone to expunge is strong!