BONAPARTE AND THE ECHO.
The original publication of the following exposed the publisher, Palm, of Nuremberg, to trial by court-martial. He was sentenced to be shot at Braunau in 1807,—a severe retribution for a few lines of poetry.
Bona.—Alone I am in this sequestered spot, not overheard.
Echo.—Heard.
Bona.—’Sdeath! Who answers me? What being is there nigh?
Echo.—I.
Bona.—Now I guess! To report my accents Echo has made her task.
Echo.—Ask.
Bona.—Knowest thou whether London will henceforth continue to resist?
Echo.—Resist.
Bona.—Whether Vienna and other courts will oppose me always?
Echo.—Always.
Bona.—Oh, Heaven! what must I expect after so many reverses?
Echo.—Reverses.
Bona.—What! should I, like coward vile, to compound be reduced?
Echo.—Reduced.
Bona.—After so many bright exploits be forced to restitution?
Echo.—Restitution.
Bona.—Restitution of what I’ve got by true heroic feats and martial address?
Echo.—Yes.
Bona.—What will be the end of so much toil and trouble?
Echo.—Trouble.
Bona.—What will become of my people, already too unhappy?
Echo.—Happy.
Bona.—What should I then be that I think myself immortal?
Echo.—Mortal.
Bona.—The whole world is filled with the glory of my name, you know.
Echo.—No.
Bona.—Formerly its fame struck the vast globe with terror.
Echo.—Error.
Bona.—Sad Echo, begone! I grow infuriate! I die!
Echo.—Die![[13]]