NAPOLEON.

INTRODUCTION.

If ye will walk amid the ancient wood,
Ye will perceive the lordly oak o’erspread
The slender shrubs, and shield them from the storm. 
If ye will look upon a thrifty hive
Of honey-loving bees, ye will remark
A Sovereign rules this small but populous State;
And, if she live, they live, and fill with life
The sunny air around—­but if she die,
They quickly die, and then their precious sweet,
Becomes a dainty dish for vilest worms. 
If ye will scan the custom of those birds,
That seek the boreal lakes, when spring unfolds—­
Soaring far up amid the azure heaven,
Ye will note one who leads them in their flight,
As Chief his army to the embattled fight,
And, oft he shouts far back to them to cheer
Their fainting hearts, and flagging pinions on,
To trace the long, long course to far off lands. 
If ye will note the noblest of a flock,
Ye will observe the weaker follow him. 
And thus if ye will wisely look on men,
Ye will perceive the wisest lead them on
To every work; for this is nature’s law,
And whoso breaks it, breaks it to his hurt. 
Fair France once drooped beneath the feeble rule,
A blighting reign, of many a Bourbon fool,
Until Napoleon rose, her natural king,
And crushed the Bourbon, as an abscess thing. 
Great Heaven decrees, that Greater still must reign,
Or else the weaker must exist in vain. 
Fair France seemed conscious of this grand design,
And hailed Napoleon as a man divine—­
Bedecked his path for many a flowery mile,
And claimed her monarch with a beaming smile. 
Thus came Napoleon—­and, on every hand,
Fair Joys prepared to hover o’er the land. 
Then, France! thy glorious age was nigh begun,
When rose upon thee such a glorious sun;
Soon had thy bliss and praises been complete,
And Earth had, falling, worshipped at thy feet. 
Beneath this monarch’s rule—­who loved the best—­
Thy meanest subject had been very blest. 
And thou had’st antidated our high claim
Of rescuing man from civil slavery’s shame. 
But, ever, Envy views, with murderous eye,
Those souls who strive to make their station high. 
When France was weak, her sister realms were kind—­
When France grew strong, in hellish league combined,
They sought to crush her to the sordid earth—­
Lest she should grow—­and they should pine in dearth.

Go beat the spaniel, if he rouse thine ire,
His servile nature may no more aspire—­
But leave the lion in his lordly lair,
Or he thine entrails in his rage will tear. 
Go, rob the linnet’s unprotected nest,
And rend her offspring, from her little breast;
But leave the Eagle in his eyrie high,
Or thy torn flesh shall hush his eaglet’s cry. 
Fair France’s lion was Napoleon! he
Roamed o’er the land, a monarch proud and free: