NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE.

9

A strict accountant of liis heads,

A subtle disputant on creeds.

His dotage trifled well:

Yet better bad be neither knownA bigot’s sluine, nor despot’s throne.

IX.

But thou — from thy reluctant handThe thunderbolt is wrung —

Too late thou leav'st the high commandTo which thy weakness clung;

All Evil Spirit as thou art,

It is enough to grieve the heart.

To see thine own unstrung;

To think that Cod’s fair world hath beenThe footstool of a thing so mean ;

X.

And Earth hath spilt her blood for him,Who thus can hoard his own!

And Monarchs bowed the trembling limb,And thanked him for a throne!

Fair Freedom ! we may hold thee dear.When thus thy mightiest foes their fear