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Article THE GOLDEN WREATH. Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Golden Wreath.
THE GOLDEN WREATH .
I STOOD at the tomb , in the Invalides , Of the great Emperor past and gone ; Two giants in marble guard the gate—There , in Death ' s sleep , rests the mighty one . Golden and purple , the light streams in From the painted windows on either side ;
'Neath the dome , in the great sarcophagus , Lies England ' s enemy , in his pride . Far away , in a sea-girt isle Named after an empress and English saint , No longer feared , as an exile died ; All ! who could , with truth , his thraldom paint ?
All Europe had trembled at his frown , At his nod the nations had ceased to be ; King and Kaiser he had cast down—They sued for mercy on bended knee . For all the glories of modern France Had come through himand her lace was hih
, p g ; With Buonaparte she had lived by the sword , And with the sword , she was like to die . They brought him back to the land he loved , And laid him low with the pomp of war ; They reared a noble sepulchre , And followed , in crowds , his funeral car .
Another Napoleon lived and died , The glory of France had waxed and waned ; The cannon had sounded at her gates ; Her very life ' s blood from her was drained .
Fickle and faithless she had been , For she drove her Emperor from his throne ; And the faithful friend in exile here , All courtesy was b y England shown . Three mournful years , and then he went The way we must all go , soon or late ;
But he left his beautiful wife and child : " All things come unto those that wait . " And the young Prince grew to manhood ' s prime , Sighing for glory and great renown ; Making his study the art of war , Waiting for his Imperial crown .
The home of the exile— -England ' s isle , Was as the City of Refuge sure ; But he came of a race of warriors , And he longed for the fame which should endure .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Golden Wreath.
THE GOLDEN WREATH .
I STOOD at the tomb , in the Invalides , Of the great Emperor past and gone ; Two giants in marble guard the gate—There , in Death ' s sleep , rests the mighty one . Golden and purple , the light streams in From the painted windows on either side ;
'Neath the dome , in the great sarcophagus , Lies England ' s enemy , in his pride . Far away , in a sea-girt isle Named after an empress and English saint , No longer feared , as an exile died ; All ! who could , with truth , his thraldom paint ?
All Europe had trembled at his frown , At his nod the nations had ceased to be ; King and Kaiser he had cast down—They sued for mercy on bended knee . For all the glories of modern France Had come through himand her lace was hih
, p g ; With Buonaparte she had lived by the sword , And with the sword , she was like to die . They brought him back to the land he loved , And laid him low with the pomp of war ; They reared a noble sepulchre , And followed , in crowds , his funeral car .
Another Napoleon lived and died , The glory of France had waxed and waned ; The cannon had sounded at her gates ; Her very life ' s blood from her was drained .
Fickle and faithless she had been , For she drove her Emperor from his throne ; And the faithful friend in exile here , All courtesy was b y England shown . Three mournful years , and then he went The way we must all go , soon or late ;
But he left his beautiful wife and child : " All things come unto those that wait . " And the young Prince grew to manhood ' s prime , Sighing for glory and great renown ; Making his study the art of war , Waiting for his Imperial crown .
The home of the exile— -England ' s isle , Was as the City of Refuge sure ; But he came of a race of warriors , And he longed for the fame which should endure .