But where is he, the modern, mightier far, Who, born no king, made monarchs draw his car;

The new Sesostris, whose unharness'd kings, Freed from the bit, believe themselves with wings,

But smile though all the pangs of brain and heart

Disdain, defy, the tardy aid of art;

imaged face

Of that fair boy his sire shall ne'er embrace,

None stand by his low bedthe mind

- though even

Be wavering, which long awed and awes mankind;

Whose table earth- whose dice were human bones?

Behold the grand result in yon lone isle,
And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile.
Sigh to behold the eagle's lofty rage
Reduced to nibble at his narrow cage;
Smile to survey the queller of the nations
Now daily squabbling o'er disputed rations;
Weep to perceive him mourning, as he
dines,

59

O'er curtail'd dishes and o'er stinted wines, O'er petty quarrels upon petty things,

Is this the man who scourged or feasted kings?

Behold the scales in which his fortune hangs,

A surgeon's statement and an earl's harangues!

A bust delay'd, a book refused, can shake The sleep of him who kept the world awake.

Is this indeed the tamer of the great,
Now slave of all could tease or irritate
The paltry gaoler and the prying spy,
The staring stranger with his note-book
nigh?

70

Plunged in a dungeon, he had still been

- for the fetter'd eagle breaks his chain,

And higher worlds than this are his again.

What though his gaoler, duteous to the last, Scarce deem'd the coffin's lead could keep him fast,

Refusing one poor line along the lid,
To date the birth and death of all it hid;
That name shall hallow the ignoble shore,
A talisman to all save him who bore.
The fleets that sweep before the eastern
blast

Shall hear their sea-boys hail it from the mast;

When Victory's Gallic column shall but rise,

110

Like Pompey's pillar, in a desert's skies, The rocky isle that holds or held his dust Shall crown the Atlantic like the hero's bust,

Oh heaven! of which he was in power a feature;

Oh earth! of which he was a noble creature; Thou isle! to be remember'd long and well, That saw'st the unfledged eaglet chip his shell!

Ye Alps, which view'd him in his dawning flights

Hover, the victor of a hundred fights! Thou Rome, who saw'st thy Cæsar's deeds outdone!

Alas! why pass'd he too the Rubicon -
The Rubicon of man's awaken'd rights, 139
To herd with vulgar kings and parasites ?
Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose
Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose,
And shook within their pyramids to hear
A new Cambyses thundering in their ear;
While the dark shades of forty ages stood
Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood;
Or from the pyramid's tall pinnacle
Beheld the desert peopled, as from hell,
With clashing hosts, who strew'd the bar-
ren sand

150

To re-manure the uncultivated land!
Spain which, a moment mindless of the
Cid,

Beheld his banner flouting thy Madrid!
Austria! which saw thy twice-ta'en capital
Twice spared to be the traitress of his fall!

The half barbaric Moscow's minarets Gleam in the sun, but 't is a sun that sets! Moscow thou limit of his long career, 171 For which rude Charles had wept his frozen tear

To see in vain - he saw thee - how? with spire

And palace fuel to one common fire.

To this the soldier lent his kindling match, To this the peasant gave his cottage thatch, To this the merchant flung his hoarded store, The prince his hall—and Moscow was no more !

Sublimest of volcanoes! Etna's flame Pales before thine, and quenchless Hecla 's tame;

180

He teaches them the lesson taught so long,
So oft, so vainly learn to do no wrong!
A single step into the right had made
This man the Washington of worlds be-
tray'd:

A single step into the wrong has given
His name a doubt to all the winds of
heaven;

The reed of Fortune, and of thrones the rod,

240

Of Fame the Moloch or the demigod;
His country's Cæsar, Europe's Hannibal,
Without their decent dignity of fall.
Yet Vanity herself had better taught
A surer path even to the fame he sought,
By pointing out on history's fruitless page
Ten thousand conquerors for a single sage.
While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to
heaven,

Calming the lightning which he thence hath riven,

Or drawing from the no less kindled earth Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth;

While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er

Shall sink while there's an echo left to air: While even the Spaniard's thirst of gold and war

251

Forgets Pizarro to shout Bolivar !
Alas! why must the same Atlantic wave
Which wafted freedom gird a tyrant's