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Translated by George W. M. Reynolds
ON the foundation that his glory laid, | |
| With indestructible materials made, | |
| Alike secure from ruin and from rust, | |
| Before whose might all monuments are dust, | |
| The eternal Column, towering far on high, | 5 |
| Presents Napoleon’s throne unto the sky. | |
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| Well deemed the hero, when his sovereign hand, | |
| Fatigued with war, the lasting trophy planned, | |
| That civil discord would retire in shame | |
| Before the vast memorial of his name; | 10 |
| And that the nation would forget to praise | |
| The deeds of those who shone in ancient days. | |
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| Around the earth his veterans he had led, | |
| O’er smoking fields encumbered with the dead, | |
| And from the presence of that host so true | 15 |
| Armies and kings in wild confusion flew, | |
| Leaving their ponderous cannon on the plain,— | |
| A prey to him and his victorious train! | |
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| Then, when the fields of France again were trod | |
| By him who came triumphant as a god, | 20 |
| Bearing the spoils of the defeated world,— | |
| He came mid joyous cries and flags unfurled, | |
| Welcome as eagle to her infant brood | |
| That waits on mountain-top its daily food! | |
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| But he, intent on his stupendous aims, | 25 |
| Straightway proceeds to where the furnace flames; | |
| And while his troops, with haste and zealous glow, | |
| The massive ordnance in the caldron throw, | |
| He to the meanest artisan unfolds | |
| His plans to form the fashion of the moulds. | 30 |
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| Then to the war he led his troops once more, | |
| And from the foe the palm of conquest bore;— | |
| He drove the opponent armies from the plain, | |
| And seized their dread artillery again, | |
| As good material for the Column high, | 35 |
| Built to perpetuate his memory! | |
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| Such was his task! The roaring culverin, | |
| The spur, the sabre, and the mortar’s din,— | |
| These were his earliest sports till Egypt gave | |
| Her ancient Pyramids his smile to save; | 40 |
| Then, when the imperial crown adorned his brow, | |
| He raised the monument we reverence now! | |
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| He raised that monument! The grandest age | |
| Which e’er the historian’s annals might engage | |
| Furnished the subject, and the end of time | 45 |
| Shall boast that emblem of his course sublime, | |
| Where Rhine and Tiber rolled in crimson flood, | |
| And the tall snow-capped Alps all trembling stood! | |
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| For even as the giant race of old | |
| Ossa on Pelion, mount on mountain, rolled, | 50 |
| To scale high heaven’s towers, so he has made | |
| His battles serve to help his escalade; | |
| And thus to gratify his fancy wild, | |
| Wagram, Arcole, on Austerlitz were piled! | |
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| The sun unveiled himself in beauty bright, | 55 |
| The eyes of all beamed gladness and delight, | |
| When, with unruffled visage, thou didst come, | |
| Hero of France! unto the Place Vendôme | |
| To mark thy Column towering from the ground, | |
| And the four eagles ranged the base around. | 60 |
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| ’T was then, environed by thy warriors tried, | |
| As erst the Romans flocked to Æmilius’ side,— | |
| ’T was then each child—each infant, on whose head | |
| Six summers scarcely had their radiance shed— | |
| Murmured applause, and clapped their little hands, | 65 |
| And spied their fathers midst thy serried bands. | |
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| O, when thou stoodst there, godlike, proud, and great, | |
| Pondering on conquest, majesty, and state, | |
| Who would have thought that e’er the time could be | |
| When a base senate should dishonor thee, | 70 |
| And cavil o’er thine ashes, for Vendôme | |
| At least is worthy to become thy tomb! | |
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