The Fifth of May.
Manzoni’s Ode to Napoleon.
He was : as silent as the clay,1
Its mortal anguish o’er,2
From whence the spirit passed away3
To the eternal shore—4
So still stood worlds, aghast to hear5
The tidings of death’s messenger :6
Mute—pondering on that final hour—7
Doubting if e’er again8
Earth should behold so grand a power,9
So great a king of men ;10
Or tread of lordlier footstep e’er11
Trample the dust that crumbles there.12
To him on his imperial throne13
I turned no flatterer’s face,14
The goal might be or lost or won15
In life’s uncertain race ;16
With myriad sounding tongues my voice17
Disdained to wail or to rejoice :18
Unmoved to servile note of praise,19
From coward censure far,20
My lyre now thrills to mournful lays21
At fall of such a star ;22
And a funereal melody23
Awakes, that haply will not die.24
From farthest Alp to Pyramid,25
From Spain to Rhenish strand,26
War’s thunderbolts and lightnings slid27
From his uplifted hand ;28
Pursuing swiftly in his train,29
From realm to realm, from main to main.30
Was this true glory ? Let the days31
To come pass sentence : we32
Can but bow down before His ways,33
To His supreme decree,34
Who willed such sign in wondrous hour35
Of his Creative Spirit’s power.36
The fitful joy, the lofty scheme,37
Fame’s fleeting, maddening breath,38
Ambitious, wild, tumultuous dream,39
The crown, the victor’s wreath :40
Such prize attained, none might foresee,41
In fondest flight of fantasy !42
All this was his ! the kingly sway,43
The pride of perils past,44
The closing of the shadowed day,45
The exile’s grave at last !46
Twice in the dust—disown’d—denied—47
Twice chosen—worshipp’d—deified !48
His voice was heard, uprais’d between49
Two armëd centuries ;50
The doom of warring worlds was seen51
In his controlling eyes.52
They bent, as if to fate, to hear53
The fiat of their arbiter.54
As sudden meteors fall—he fell !55
Lay caged in prison bound ;56
The mark of hate inexorable—57
Pity—immense—profound.58
Of loyalty no chance could move,59
Belief profound, undaunted love.60
As on the drowning wretch’s head61
There falls the rolling wave,62
Pressing him down to icy bed,63
Where there is none to save ;64
But still his wild despairing eyes65
Appeal for aid to seas and skies—66
So on that weary, struggling soul67
Pale phantoms crowded fast,68
Whilst memory would fain unrol69
The record of the past.70
But from the page, resistless tears71
Would blot the tale of bygone years.72
Alas ! how oft at eventide,73
Dserted, mock’d, opprest,74
He stood, eyes bent on ocean wide,75
Arms folded on his breast,76
Whist memory to his backward gaze,77
Recalled the scenes of bygone days.78
Once more, beholding tented plain79
And glittering ranks pass by ;80
Hearing the clash of arms again,81
The shout of victory ;82
Once more, a voice in stern command,83
And swift response of heart and hand.84
Break, tortur’d heart ! the pitying hand85
That strikes and that consoles,86
Thy name in the immortal land,87
Amongst His hosts enrols ;88
Where earthly glory fades away89
Before the light of endless day.90
God’s pity bids the voices cease,91
Upraised in blame and wrath ;92
Strong in repentance, pardon, peace,93
He lies serence in death.94
Sleeping—the cross above his breast,95
Upon his desert couch of rest.96