On a Picture of the Corpse of Napoleon Lying in State

Lo ! there he lies. Is Death no more than this ?
Is this the worst that mighty mortal can
Inflict upon his fellow ? Could the man —
The strongest arm of angry Nemesis, —
The rod that routed hosts were fain to kiss,
Whom failing Faith afar with terror eyed,
And Atheism madly deified —
Could he with all his wars and policies
Effect but this ? To antedate a year a-
That cold unfeeling calm, that even now -
Blanks the dark meaning of that deep-lined brow, "
And from the loose lip half uncurls the sneer ?
If such be Death, O man, then what art thou,
That for the fear of Death would'st live in fear ?