XXVIII. — NAPOLEON'S RETURN.

MISS WALLACE.

[These lines commemorate the removal of the remains of Napoleon Bcnaparte from the Island of St. Helena to France in 1840, in a ship of war commanded by the Prince de Joinville, a son of Louis Phillippe, then king of France. The Champ de Mars is an open space in Paris, used for military reviews. Waterloo, Austerlitz, and Lodi, are places memorable for battles in which Napoleon was engaged. The Louvre is a building in Paris, mainly devoted to a museum of works of art. Versailles, near Paris, is a town where there is a splendid palace. The Iron Crown of Lombardy, still preserved at Monza, near Milan, is made of gold and adorned with jewels, but has on the inside a thin plate of iron. Napoleon, as king of Italy, was crowned with this in the cathedral of Milan, May 26, 1805.]

1 A BARK has left the sea-girt isle,

A prince is at the helm,

She bears the exile emperor

Back to his ancient realm.

No joyous shout bursts from her crew,
As o'er the waves they dance,
But silently through foam and spray,
Seek they the shores of France.

2 A soldier comes! Haste, comrades, haste!
To greet him on the strand;

"Tis long since by his side ye fought

For Glory's chosen land;

A leader comes! Let loud huzzas
Burst from the extended line,

And glancing arms and helmets raised
In martial splendor shine.

A conqueror comes! Fly, Austrian, fly
Before his awful frown!

Kneel, Lombard, kneel! that pallid brow
Has worn the Iron Crown!

The eagles wave! the trumpet sounds!
Amid the cannon's roar,

Ye victors of a hundred fields,

Surround your chief once more!

4 A monarch comes! From royal arms
Remove the envious rust;

A monarch comes! the triple crown
Is freed from gathering dust.
Guard him not to the halls of state,
His diadem is riven;

But bear him where yon hallowed spire
Is pointing up to heaven:

And with the requiem's plaintive swell,
With dirge and solemn prayer,
Enter the marble halls of death,

And throne your monarch there!

5 Napoleon comes! Go speak that word
At midnight's awful hour,

In Champ de Mars, will it not prove
A spell of fearful power?

Will not a shadowy host arise

From field and mountain ridge,
From Waterloo, from Austerlitz,
From Lodi's fatal bridge,
And wheel in airy echelon, †

From pass, and height, and plain,
To form upon that ancient ground
Their scattered ranks again?

6 Go speak it in the Louvre's ‡ halls,
Mid priceless works of art,

Will not each life-like figure from

The glowing canvas start?

*Pronounced Shän g) dě Mars.

↑ Pronounced Esh'e-lon(g). Military term, denoting a peculiar formation of

troops in line of battle.

Pronounced Loovr.

Go to Versailles, where heroes frown,
And monarchs live, in stone,
Across those chiselled lips will not
A startling murmur run?
No, no, the marble still may be

Cold, cold and silent- So is he.
The pencil's living hues may bloom,
But his have faded in the tomb,
And warriors in their narrow homes
Sleep, reckless that their leader comes.

7 Napoleon comes! but Rhine's pure flood
Rolls on without a tinge of blood;
The Pyramids still frown in gloom,
And grandeur, o'er an empty tomb,
And sweetly now the moonbeam smiles
Upon the fair Venetian isles.

8 Napoleon comes! but Moscow's spires Have ceased to glow with hostile fires; No spirit, in a whisper deep,

Proclaims it where the Cæsars sleep,
No sigh from column, tower, or dome,-
A man that once was feared at Rome,—
For life and power have passed away,
And he is here, a king of clay.

9 He will not wake at war's alarms,
Its music or its moans;

He will not wake when Europe hears
The crash of crumbling thrones,-
And institutions gray with age

Are numbered with forgotten things,
And privilege, and "right divine,"

Rest with the people, not their kings.

10 Now raise the imperial monument,
Fame's tribute to the brave;
The warrior's place of pilgrimage
Shall be Napoleon's grave.

France, envying long his island tomb
Amid the lonely deep,

Has gained at last the treasured dust:
Sleep! mighty mortal, sleep!

XXIX. - SPEECH ON THE AMERICAN WAR.

CHATHAM.

[WILLIAM PITT, Earl of Chatham, was born in Boconnoc, in the county of Cornwall, England, November 15, 1708, and died at Hayes, in Kent, May 11, 1778. He entered the House of Commons in 1735, became secretary of state, and substantially prime minister, in December, 1756, and continued to hold this office, with a brief interval, till October, 1761. In 1766 he received the office of lord privy seal, and was elevated to the peerage with the title of Earl of Chatham. He resigned the privy seal in 1768, and subsequently took a leading part in many popular questions.

Chatham's name is one of the most illustrious in English history. Dr. Franklin said that in the course of his life he had sometimes seen eloquence without wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence; in Lord Chatham alone had he seen both united. His eloquence, vivid, impetuous, and daring, was aided by uncommon personal advantages; a commanding presence, an eye of fire, and a voice of equal sweetness and power. His character was lofty, his private life was spotless, and his motives high. His temper was somewhat wayward, and he was impatient of opposition or contradiction. His memory is cherished with peculiar reverence in our country, because of his earnest and consistent support of the rights of the colonies against the measures of Lord North's administration.

The following speech was delivered in the House of Lords, November 18, 1777. The king had opened the session of parliament with a speech from the throne, recommending a further and more energetic prosecution of the war to reduce the American colonies to submission. To the address in reply to this speech, and simply echoing its sentiments, Chatham offered an amendment, proposing an immediate cessation of hostilities, and adequate measures of conciliation. The birth of the princess Sophia, one of the daughters of George III, had recently taken place, and was alluded to in the address.]

I RISE, my Lords, to declare my sentiments on this most solemn and serious subject. It has imposed a load upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing can remove, but which

impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by a free and unreserved communication of my sentiments.

In the first part of the address I have the honor of heartily concurring with the noble earl who moved it. No 5 man feels sincerer joy than I do; none can offer more genuine congratulations on every accession of strength to the Protestant succession. I therefore join in every congratalation on the birth of another princess, and the happy recovery of her Majesty.

10

But I must stop here. My courtly complaisance will carry me no further. I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot concur in a blind and servile address, which approves and endeavors to sanctify the monstrous measures which have heaped disgrace and 15 misfortune upon us. This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment! It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now avail - cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the Throne in the language of truth. We must 20 dispel the illusion and the darkness which envelop it, and display in its full danger and true colors, the ruin that is brought to our doors.

This, my Lords, is our duty. It is the proper function of this noble assembly, sitting, as we do, upon our honors in 25 this house, the hereditary council of the Crown. Who is the minister-where is the minister, that has dared to suggest to the Throne the contrary, unconstitutional language this day delivered from it? The accustomed language from the Throne has been application to Parliament for advice, and 30 a reliance on its constitutional advice and assistance.

As

it is the right of Parliament to give, so it is the duty of the Crown to ask it. But on this day, and in this extreme momentous exigency, no reliance is reposed on our constitutional counsels! no advice is asked from the sober and 35 enlightened care of Parliament! but the Crown, from itself and by itself, declares an unalterable determination