Eight-and-forty years ago, at this place
Not alone but with my age at that year,
I wheeled back on Time and visioned the face
Of Napoleon with two eyes and one tear.
One Austerlitz, the other Waterloo,
The true eyes of victory and defeat
The hopes and dreams were and were not true,
For the great conquest was a great retreat.
Dire Napoleon against Albion and Spain
Unsheathed the sword to fall upon the blade
And wrathfully lose which he seemed to gain,
The Empire he has made was made unmade.
Exiled, by a furious human tide
To a barren island for life to stay
Vexed, he escaped and again took a ride
To hunt bleeding hawks, but this time he was the prey.
That’s a lethal glory remaining fame
A memory for those who may forget
The horrors of the earth in smoke and flame
Where the living with the living have met.
Yet he’s still a flame in the cave of Time
And with the second warm tear in my eye,
I am framing with grief this humble rhyme
Of him who is a world where he doth lie.