Portrait of Bonaparte: Being a View of His AdministrationEastburn, Kirk & Company, 1814 - 87 ページ |
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additional centimes administration armies blood Bona brothers Cæsar Capets caused Chateaubriand concealed conquerors conscription Corsica coun crime crown death defend descended desolate despise despotism destroyed Duke Emperor empire Europe evil fathers fault field of battle fiend's arch mock fortune French Frenchman-he gendarme glory hand happiness HARVARD COLLEGE hath heart Henry Henry III Henry IV heroes honour horror house of Bourbon human race hundred thousand imposts insepara Italy kings legiti mate ligion live Louis the 18th Louis XIV midst military misfortune monarchs Monsieur the Count morality mother naparte NAPOLEON BONAPARTE nations oftentimes palace Paris PORTRAIT OF BONAPARTE prince prisons of France rage reign repose Robert the Strong royal attitude Russia slavery soldiers sove spirit talent tears thee thine things can last thou throne tion triumphs tyrant virtue want a republic wounds
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79 ページ - TIS done— but yesterday a King ! And arm'd with Kings to strive — And now thou art a nameless thing : So abject — yet alive ! Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones, And can he thus survive ? Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.
80 ページ - Thanks for that lesson — it will teach To after-warriors more Than high Philosophy can preach, And vainly preach'd before. That spell upon the minds of men Breaks never to unite again, That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre sway With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.
84 ページ - Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, Nor written thus in vain — Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, Or deepen every stain : If thou hadst died as honour dies, Some new Napoleon might arise, To shame the world again — But who would soar the solar height, To set in such a starless night ? Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Is vile as vulgar clay; Thy scales, Mortality!
82 ページ - He fell, the forest prowlers' prey ; But thou must eat thy heart away ! The Roman, when his burning heart Was slaked with blood of Rome, Threw down the dagger — dared depart, In savage grandeur, home. — He dared depart in utter scorn Of men that such a yoke had borne, Yet left him such a doom ! His only glory was that hour Of self-upheld abandon'd power.
86 ページ - Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, And gaze upon the sea; That element may meet thy smile — It ne'er was ruled by thee! Or trace with thine all idle hand, In loitering mood upon the sand, That Earth is now as free! That Corinth's pedagogue* hath now Transferred his byword to thy brow.
87 ページ - Foredoomed by God — by man accurst, And that last act, though not thy worst, The very Fiend's arch mock ! He, in his fall preserved his pride, And, if a mortal; had as proudly died!
81 ページ - Or dread of death alone ? To die a prince— or live a slave — Thy choice is most ignobly brave...
85 ページ - And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, Thy still imperial bride ; How bears her breast the torturing hour ? Still clings she to thy side ? Must she too bend, must she too share Thy late repentance, long despair, Thou throneless Homicide ? If still she loves thee, hoard that gem, 'Tis worth thy vanished diadem ! [16] XIV.
82 ページ - He who of old would rend the oak, Dreamed not of the rebound ; Chained by the trunk he vainly broke — Alone — how looked he round ? Thou in the sternness of thy strength An equal deed hast done at length, And darker fate hast found : He fell, the forest prowlers' prey ; But thou must eat thy heart away ! VII.
83 ページ - The Spaniard, when the lust of sway Had lost its quickening spell, Cast crowns for rosaries away, An empire for a cell; A strict accountant of his beads, A subtle disputant on creeds, His dotage trifled well: Yet better had he neither known A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne.