University of Virginia Library


38

NAPOLEON III.

If goodness sits beneath a constant heaven,
Like Italy 'neath the sun; if gilded wrong
Is inly smitten, while the applauding throng
Cry out, “A god! a god!” till noon is riven;
When to itself his conscious heart is shriven,
Is his peace ample? or his penance strong?
A sorry sight if to the day were given
The secrets of that heart locked up so long!
The plainest man that you may chance to meet,
If death hath touched him, makes you stare with awe.
Two sudden visions in the night I saw,
A Monarch honoured on his golden seat,—
A Tyrant strangled in the shreds of law,
Dragged like a dead dog through the yelling street.