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Article FUNERAL OF NAPOLEON'S MOTHER. ROME, FEB. 7, 1836. ← Page 3 of 3 Article THE TEAR. Page 1 of 1
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Funeral Of Napoleon's Mother. Rome, Feb. 7, 1836.
Here too the wreck of empire flown , The Curule chair , the regal throne , The trophied eagle , must have been Visions of all thy soul had seen ; For years thy thoughts were o ' er the wave , Thy yearnings round that lonely grave , Where rest the ashes which enshrined
The master spirit of mankind . There was thy world , all else to thee Was cheerless as that lonely sea , Whose waters hear no living thing , * Shunn'd even by the sea birds' wingt ; A scene accursed , a desert rude , A barren wild , a solitude ;
Age was to thee a path of tears , Thou Niobe of modern years ; Thy pride , thy eagle sou was dead , Joy , hope , ambition , all were fled , Thy children exiled from the land Whose sceptre fill'd their brother ' s hand ; Sever'd on earth from every tie , What hadst thou left thee ? but to die f
The Tear.
THE TEAR .
TO M . P . THE tear , the tear , the falling tear , Steals down many a blushing cheek ; Emblem of passion , hope , or fear , It tells what language cannot speak . When the sad heart 'd with grief
oppress , Writhes ' neath the world ' s contemptuous sneer , What gives the mourner ' s soul relief ? My answer is—a silent tear . When joy strikes thro' misfortune ' s gloom , And tells the hour of transport near ; Like flow ' rets in their earl y bloom ,
The soul is gladden'd by a tear . Oft will they fall , I know not why , Their cause , their source you bid me tell ; They spring from nature I reply ; This is my answer , so farewell . One wish in friendshi p I bestow ,
'Tis thine for happiness ' yond measure . And if thine eyes with tears o ' erflow , May each drop prove a tear of pleasure .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Funeral Of Napoleon's Mother. Rome, Feb. 7, 1836.
Here too the wreck of empire flown , The Curule chair , the regal throne , The trophied eagle , must have been Visions of all thy soul had seen ; For years thy thoughts were o ' er the wave , Thy yearnings round that lonely grave , Where rest the ashes which enshrined
The master spirit of mankind . There was thy world , all else to thee Was cheerless as that lonely sea , Whose waters hear no living thing , * Shunn'd even by the sea birds' wingt ; A scene accursed , a desert rude , A barren wild , a solitude ;
Age was to thee a path of tears , Thou Niobe of modern years ; Thy pride , thy eagle sou was dead , Joy , hope , ambition , all were fled , Thy children exiled from the land Whose sceptre fill'd their brother ' s hand ; Sever'd on earth from every tie , What hadst thou left thee ? but to die f
The Tear.
THE TEAR .
TO M . P . THE tear , the tear , the falling tear , Steals down many a blushing cheek ; Emblem of passion , hope , or fear , It tells what language cannot speak . When the sad heart 'd with grief
oppress , Writhes ' neath the world ' s contemptuous sneer , What gives the mourner ' s soul relief ? My answer is—a silent tear . When joy strikes thro' misfortune ' s gloom , And tells the hour of transport near ; Like flow ' rets in their earl y bloom ,
The soul is gladden'd by a tear . Oft will they fall , I know not why , Their cause , their source you bid me tell ; They spring from nature I reply ; This is my answer , so farewell . One wish in friendshi p I bestow ,
'Tis thine for happiness ' yond measure . And if thine eyes with tears o ' erflow , May each drop prove a tear of pleasure .