Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DISINTERMENT, by BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DISINTERMENT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Lost lord of song - who grandly gave
Last Line: Napoleon's only monument!
Subject(s): Napoleon I (1769-1821)


LOST Lord of Song! who grandly gave
Thy matchless timbrel for the spear --
And, by old Hellas' hallow'd wave
Died at the feet of Freedom -- hear!
Hear -- from thy lone and lowly tomb,
Where mid thy own "inviolate Isle,"
Beneath no minster's marble gloom,
No banner's golden smile,
Far from the swarming city's crowd,
Thy glory round thee for a shroud,
Thou sleepest, -- the pious rustic's tread
The only echo o'er thy bed,
Save, few and faint, when o'er the foam
The pilgrims of thy genius come,
From distant earth, with tears of praise,
The homage of their hearts to raise,
And curse the country's very name,
Unworthy of thy sacred dust,
That draws such lustre from thy fame,
That heaps such outrage on thy bust!
Wake from the dead -- and lift thy brow
With the same scornful beauty now,
As when beneath thy shafts of pride
Envenom'd cant -- the Python -- died!
Prophet no less than bard, behold
Matured the eventful moment, told
In those divine predictive words
Pour'd to the lyre's transcendent chords: --
"If e'er his awful ashes can grow cold --
But no, their embers soon shall burst their mould --
-----------France shall feel the want
Of this last consolation, though but scant.
Her honour, fame, and faith demand his bones,
To pile above a pyramid of thrones!"
If, then, from thy neglected bier,
One humblest follower thou canst hear,
O mighty Master! rise and flee,
Swift as some meteor bold and bright,
With me thy cloud, attending thee,
Across the dusky tracts of night,
To where the sunset's latest radiance shone
O'er Afric's sea interminably lone.

Below that broad unbroken sea
Lone since the sultry sun has dropp'd,
And now in dread solemnity
-- As though its course Creation stopp'd
One wondrous hour, to watch the birth
Of deeds portentous unto earth --
The moonless midnight far and wide,
Solidly black, flings over all
The giant waste of waveless tide
Her melancholy pall,
Whose folds in thickest gloom unfurl'd,
Each ray of heaven's high face debar,
Save, on the margin of the world
Where leans yon solitary star,
Large, radiant, restless, tinting with far smile
The jagged cliffs of a gray barren Isle.

Hark! o'er the waves distinctly swell
Twelve slow vibrations of a bell!
And out upon the silent ear
At once ring bold and sharply clear,
With shock more startling than if thunder
Had split the slumbering earth asunder,
The iron sounds of crow and bar;
Ye scarce may know from whence they come,
Whether from island or from star,
Both lie so hush'd and dumb!
On, swift and deep, those echoes sweep,
Shaking long-buried kings from sleep --
Up, up! ye sceptred Jailers -- ho!
Your granite heaped his head in vain;
The very grave gives back your foe --
Dead Caesar wakes again!
The nations, with a voice as dread
As that which once in Bethany
Burst to the regions of the dead,
And set the loved-one free,
Have cried, "Come forth!" and lo! again,
To smite the hearts and eyes of men
With the old awe he once instill'd
By many an unforgotten field,
Napoleon's look shall startle day --
That look that, where its anger fell,
Scorch'd empires from the earth away
As with the blasts of hell!

Up -- from the dust, ye sleepers, ho!
By the blue Danube's stately wave --
From Berlin's towers -- from Moscow's snow,
And Windsor's gorgeous grave!
Come -- summon'd by the omnific power,
The spirit of this thrilling hour --
And, stooping from yon craggy height,
Girt by each perish'd satellite,
Each cunning tool of kingly terror
Who served your reigns of fraud and error,
Behold, where with relentless lock
Ye chain'd Prometheus to his rock,
And, when his tortured bosom ceased
Your vulture's savage beak to feast,
Where fathom-deep ye dug his cell,
And built and barr'd his coffin down,
Half doubting if even death could quell
Such terrible renown;
Now mid the torch's solemn glare,
And bended knee, and mutter'd prayer,
Within that green sepulchral glen
Uncover'd groups of warrior men
Breathless perform the high behest
Of winning back, in priceless trust,
For the regenerated West,
Your victim's mighty dust.
Hark! how they burst your cramps and rings --
Ha, ha! ye banded, baffled kings!

Stout men! delve on with axe and bar,
Ye're watch'd from yonder restless star:
Hew the tough masonry away --
Bid the tomb's ponderous portals fly!
And firm your sounding levers sway,
And loud your clanking hammers ply;
Nor falter though the work be slow,
Ye something gain in every blow,
While deep each heart in chorus sings,
"Ha, ha! ye banded, baffled kings!"
Brave men! delve on with axe and bar,
Ye're watch'd from yonder glorious star.

'Tis morn----the marble floor is cleft,
And slight and short the labour left;
'Tis noon----they wind the windlass now
To heave the granite from his brow:
Back to each gazer's waiting heart
The life-blood leaps with anxious start --
Down Bertrand's cheek the tear-drop steals --
Low in the dust Las Casas kneels,
(Oh! Tried and trusted -- still, as long
As the true heart's fidelity
Shall form the theme of harp and song,
High bards shall sing of ye!)
One moment, and thy beams, O sun!
The bier of him shall look upon,
Who, save the heaven-expell'd, alone
Dared envy thee thy blazing throne;
Who haply oft, with gaze intent,
And sick from victory's vulgar war,
Panted to sweep the firmament,
And dash thee from thy car,
And cursed the clay that still confined
His narrow conquests to mankind.

'Tis done -- his chiefs are lifting now
The shroud from that tremendous brow,
That with the lightning's rapid might
Illumed Marengo's awful night --
Flash'd over Lodi's murderous bridge,
Swept Prussia from red Jena's ridge,
And broke once more the Austrian sword
By Wagram's memorable ford.
And may man's puny race, that shook
Before the terrors of that look,
Approach unshrinking now, and see
How far corruption's mastery
Has tamed the tyrant-tamer?
Raise
That silken cloud, what meets the gaze?
The scanty dust, or whitening bones,
Or fleshless jaws' horrific mirth,
Of him whose threshold-steps were thrones,
A mockery now to earth?
No -- even as though his haughty clay
Scoff'd at the contact of decay,
And from his mind's immortal flame
Itself immortalized became,
Tranquilly there NAPOLEON lies reveal'd,
Like a king sleeping on his own proud shield,
Harness'd for conflict, and that eagle-star,
Whose fire-eyed legion foremost waked the war
Still on his bosom, tarnish'd too and dim,
As if hot battle's cloud had lately circled him.

Fast fades the vision -- from that glen
Wind slow those aching-hearted men,
While every mountain echo floats,
Fill'd with the bugle's regal notes --
And now the gun's redoubled roar
Tells the lone peak and mighty main,
Beneath his glorious Tricolor
Napoleon rests again!
And France's galley soon the sail
Shall spread triumphant to the gale;
Till, lost upon the lingering eye,
It melts and mingles in the sky.

Let Paris, too, prepare a show,
And deck her streets in gaudy wo;
And rear a more than kingly shrine,
Whose tapers' blaze shall ne'er be dim,
And bid the sculptor's art divine
Be lavish'd there for him,
And let him take his rest serene,
(Even so he will'd it) by the Seine;
But ever to the poet's heart,
Or pilgrim musing o'er those pages
(Replete with marvels) that impart
His story unto ages,
The spacious azure of yon sea
Alone his minster floor shall be,
Coped by the stars -- red evening's smile
His epitaph; and thou, rude Isle,
Austerely-brow'd and thunder rent,
Napoleon's only monument!





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