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I LOVE contemplatingapart | |
From all his homicidal glory | |
The traits that soften to our heart | |
Napoleons glory! | |
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T was when his banners at Boulogne | 5 |
Armed in our island every freeman, | |
His navy chanced to capture one | |
Poor British seaman. | |
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They suffered himI know not how | |
Unprisoned on the shore to roam; | 10 |
And aye was bent his longing brow | |
On Englands home. | |
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His eye, methinks! pursued the flight | |
Of birds to Britain half-way over; | |
With envy they could reach the white | 15 |
Dear cliffs of Dover. | |
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A stormy midnight watch, he thought, | |
Than this sojourn would have been dearer, | |
If but the storm his vessel brought | |
To England nearer. | 20 |
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At last, when care had banished sleep, | |
He saw one morning, dreaming, doting, | |
An empty hogshead from the deep | |
Come shoreward floating; | |
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He hid it in a cave, and wrought | 25 |
The livelong day laborious; lurking | |
Until he launched a tiny boat | |
By mighty working. | |
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Heaven help us! t was a thing beyond | |
Description wretched; such a wherry | 30 |
Perhaps neer ventured on a pond, | |
Or crossed a ferry. | |
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For, ploughing in the salt-sea field, | |
It would have made the boldest shudder; | |
Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled, | 35 |
No sail, no rudder. | |
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From neighboring woods he interlaced | |
His sorry skiff with wattled willows; | |
And thus equipped he would have passed | |
The foaming billows, | 40 |
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But Frenchmen caught him on the beach, | |
His little Argo sorely jeering; | |
Till tidings of him chanced to reach | |
Napoleons hearing. | |
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With folded arms Napoleon stood, | 45 |
Serene alike in peace and danger; | |
And, in his wonted attitude, | |
Addressed the stranger: | |
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Rash man, that wouldst yon Channel pass | |
On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned, | 50 |
Thy heart with some sweet British lass | |
Must be impassioned. | |
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I have no sweetheart, said the lad; | |
Butabsent long from one another | |
Great was the longing that I had | 55 |
To see my mother. | |
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And so thou shalt, Napoleon said, | |
Ye ve both my favor fairly won; | |
A noble mother must have bred | |
So brave a son. | 60 |
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He gave the tar a piece of gold, | |
And, with a flag of truce, commanded | |
He should be shipped to England Old, | |
And safely landed. | |
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Our sailor oft could scarcely shift | 65 |
To find a dinner, plain and hearty, | |
But never changed the coin and gift | |
Of Bonapartè. | |
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