Introduction to the Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. LORD BYRON had always been from his early boyhood a great admirer of the "Corsican ogre.' In 1813, after the retreat from Moscow and the battle of Leipsic, the poet writes: "What strange tidings from that Anak of anarchy, Buonaparte. Ever since I defended my bust of him at Harrow against the rascally time-servers when the war broke out in 1803, he has been a 'Heros de Roman' of mine-on the Continent; I don't want him here.... To be beaten by men would be something, but by three stupid, legitimate-old-dynasty boobies of regular bred sovereigns. It must be as Cobbett says, his marriage with the thick lipped and thick headed Antrichienne brood. He had better have kept to her who was kept by Barras." It will be seen that there was a great difference between Lord Byron's sentiments in prose and those of his poetry. The Ode was written the day after the news of the abdication of Fontainebleau reached London. He had just reiterated his resolution to write no more poetry until he was thirty, and to preserve the appearance of consistency, refrained from putting his name on the title page. The three last stanzas were never printed during the poet's life. He said: "I do not like them at all, and they had better be left out. The fact is, I can't do anything I am asked to do, however gladly I would, and at the end of a week my interest in a composition goes off." There is no doubt that all Lord Byron's poems written to request are of very inferior merit to the others. The first sixteen stanzas of the Ode are in his best style, and most of the thoughts are beautifully expressed. The description of Marie Louise as "proud Austria's mourn ful flower," was pirated by a poet of very different calibre, Mr Robert Montgomery. Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. I. 'Tis done-but yesterday a King! Is this the man of thousand thrones, Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, II. Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind III. Thanks for that lesson-it will teach To after-warriors more, Than high Philosophy can preach, That spell upon the minds of men Those Pagod things of sabre sway, IV. The triumph, and the vanity, All quell'd!-Dark Spirit! what must be V. The Desolator desolate ! The Victor overthrown! The Arbiter of others' fate A Suppliant for his own! Is it some yet imperial hope That with such change can calmly cope? To die a prince-or live a slave- VI. He who of old would rend the rock, Thou, in the sternness of thy strength, And darker fate has found: VII. The Roman,* when his burning heart His only glory was that hour VIII. The Spaniard,+ when the lust of sway A strict accountant of his beads, Yet better had he neither known IX. But thou-from thy reluctant hand All Evil Spirit as thou art, It is enough to grieve the heart * Sylla. † Charles the Fifth. |