WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON. WHAT! alive and so bold, oh earth? What! leapest thou forth as of old Are not the limbs still when the ghost is fled, How! is not thy quick heart cold? What spark is alive on thy hearth? How! is not his death-knell knolled? And livest thou still, Mother Earth? Of that most fiery spirit, when it fled- "Who has known me of old," replied Earth, 66 66 Or who has my story told? It is thou who art overbold." 10 And the lightning of scorn laughed forth 20 As she sung, "to my bosom I fold 66 All my sons when their knell is knolled, "And so with living motion all are fed, 66 And the quick spring like weeds out of the dead. 66 66 66 66 66 66 66 Still alive and still bold," shouted Earth, "I grow bolder and still more bold. "The dead fill me ten thousand fold Fuller of speed, and splendour, and mirth; I was cloudy, and sullen, and cold, Like a frozen chaos uprolled, Till by the spirit of the mighty dead 30 My heart grew warm. I feed on whom I fed. Aye, alive and still bold," muttered Earth, "Napoleon's fierce spirit rolled, "In terror and blood and gold, "A torrent of ruin to death from his birth. "And weave into his shame, which like the dead "Shrouds me, the hopes that from his glory fled." 40 |