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To see thine own unstrung;
To think that God's fair world hath been
And Earth hath spilt her blood for him,
Thine evil deeds are writ in gore,
If thou hadst died as honour dies,
Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust
Is vile as vulgar clay;
Thy scales, Mortality ! are just
To all that pass away:
But yet methought the living great
To dazzle and dismay :
Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.
And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, Thy still imperial bride;
How bears her breast the torturing hour?
Must she too bend, must she too share
If still she loves thee, hoard that gem,'Tis worth thy vanished diadem !1
Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,
That element may meet thy smile-
Thou Timour! in his captive's cage2
All sense is with thy sceptre gone,
That spirit pour'd so widely forth-
Or, like the thief of fire for heaven,3
There was a day-there was an hour, While there was Gaul's-Gaul thineWhen that immeasurable power
Unsated to resign
Had been an act of purer fame
Through the long twilight of all time,
But thou forsooth must be a king,
Where may the wearied eye repose
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Yes-one-the first-the last-the best-
Whom envy dared not hate,
Bequeath'd the name of Washington,
Notes to the Ode to Napoleon
"Certaminis gaudia"-the expression of Attila in his harangue to his army, previous to the battle of Chalons, given in Cassiodorus.
The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane.
-" The very fiend's arch mockTo lip a wanton, and suppose her chaste."
[He alludes to the unworthy amour in which Napoleon engaged on the evening of his arrival at Fontainebleau.]