To Napoleon

The heroes of the present and the past

Were puny, vague, and nothingness to thee:

Thou didst a span grasp mighty to the last,

And strain for glory when thy die was cast.

That little island, on the Atlantic sea,

Was but a dust-spot in a lake: thy mind

Swept space as shoreless as eternity.

Thy giant powers outstript this gaudy age

Of heroes; and, as looking at the sun,

So gazing on thy greatness, made men blind

To merits, that had adoration won

In olden times. The world was on thy page

Of victories but a comma. Fame could find

No parallel, thy greatness to presage.