On the Dismission of Bonaparte

Famed Bonaparte, in regal pride,
Put slighted Josephine aside,
And wedded an imperial bride,
Of fortune sure.

But when he droop'd, and when he fell,
(I took my pen and mark'd it well)
This jilt of jilts, this austrian belle,
No longer styled him, Mon Amour;

Which means, I think, my dearest heart,
My love!--but lovers often part
When friendship does not point the dart,
Nor fix the flame.

And warning, hence, let others take,
Nor love's decree for interest break;
In marriage, too much lies at stake
To slight its claim.

Retreating to the tuscan coast,
An empire, wife, and fortune lost,
He found the throne a dangerous post,
And wars a cheat;

Where all, who play their game too deep,
Must hazard life, and discord reap,
Or thrown from grandeur's giddy steep,
Lament their fate.

Napoleon, with an empty chest!
An austrian princess must detest;
And yet, she wears upon her breast
The painted toy;

And often weeps, the story goes,
That royal blood not wholly flows
In every vein, from head to toes,
Of her dear boy.

To Elba's isle she could not go--
The royal orders said "No, no!
On Elba's island we bestow
No royal throne:"

And thus Napoleon, shoved from power,
Has many a lonely gloomy hour
To walk on Elba's sea-beat shore,
Alone! alone!

O save us from ambition's sway,
Ye powers, who tread the milky way;
It will deceive, it will betray
Nine out of ten.

Napoleon's history let us read:
In science he was great indeed--
Ambition's lantern did mislead
This prince of men:--

And yet, ambition had its use,
It check'd the royal game of goose,
And many a flagrant vile abuse
Fell at his frown.

But, doom'd to share immortal fame,
Despotic powers will dread his name,
Though he, perhaps, was much the same,
Raised to a throne!