jWO BONAPARTE. 



Days pass before thee like the towering crests 

 Of ocean's waves, on which the sunbeam rests ;— 



Their voice — thy harmony ! 

 With brightening gleams of glory on thy face, 

 Thou lov'st thy stalwart image there to trace, 



And follow with thine eye 1 



Now, on a tottering bridge thou bravest death ; 

 Now, undismayed, — the desert's scorching breath,— 



Plunging in Jordan's tide ; 

 Now traversing the Simplon's rugged height, — 

 Sheathing the sword, to wield the sceptre's might, — 



But why thus start aside ? 

 "Why stares thy troubled eye ? — what meets thy view ? 

 And wherefore on thy brow that pale, sick hue ? 



Emphatic of what deed ? 

 Is it the smoking ruins of the past ? 

 Or the rank smell of blood upon the blast ? 



Still, glory is thy meed, 

 Effacing all !— all ?— all but crime ; and there 

 Thy hand — the dismal action of despair — 



Points to a hero's form I 

 The young and gallant Cond^ meets thine eye ; 

 Again that wave returns ! — again, that sigh 



Of — Cond^ 1 — 'mid the storm. 



And now as tho' some livid spot to chase 

 From thy damp brow, a fevered hand I trace 



Passed o'er from time to time ; 

 But like a seal, stampt by a hand supreme, 

 Abides there still, that damning diadem — 



The signet of thy crime ! 

 For this thy glory shall be tinged with blight, 

 Obscuring e'en thy genius in her flight ; — 



And blood still track thy car ; 

 Thy name, the sport of each succeeding race, 

 *Twixt Caesar — Marius ! — shall obtain a place — 



For ever balanced there 1 



Yet didst thou die, as do the vulgar die I — 

 The peasant lot of dim mortality 1 — 



Slumb'ring on the grave's brink 1 

 Armed with thy blood-stained sword — there to await 

 Avenging judgment at that Hand elate. 



From which the strong ones shrink 1 



'Tis said that in his last, long agony, 



A holier light gleamed from his upcast eye, — 



A heaven-directed flood ! 

 The holy cross just touched his rugged brow, — 

 He breathed a name — Oh, never breathed till now I 



But dared not to conclude 1 



Speak on 1 — it is a name which still prevails !— 

 For men and rulers, God hath differing scales, — 



A differing weight obtains ; — 

 Speak on 1 — fear not ! — be bold — and speak, and live 1 

 Despots and slaves alike account must give 



Of sceptres and of chains I 



His grave is closed 1 — let human voice be still I 

 God — the controller of the erring will — 



Hath mark'd his destiny ! 

 Who knows the mercies infinite of heaven ? 

 Of thou — earth's scourge ! — ^\hethe^ thy genius giyen 



Might not thy virtue be ? 



ANNA. 



