XVIII.
But thou forsooth must be a King
And don the purple vest,
As if that foolish robe could wring
Remembrance from thy breast.
Where is that faded garment? where[ix]
The gewgaws thou wert fond to wear,
The star, the string, the crest?[iy][263]
Vain froward child of Empire! say,
Are all thy playthings snatched away?
XIX.
Where may the wearied eye repose[iz]
When gazing on the Great;
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Nor despicable state?
Yes—One—the first—the last—the best—
The Cincinnatus of the West,
Whom Envy dared not hate,
Bequeathed the name of Washington,
To make man blush there was but one![ja][264]
FOOTNOTES:
[ [240] {301}
[ODE TO NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE.
——
By
——
London: Printed for J. Murray, Albemarle Street, By W. Bulmer and Co. Cleveland-Row, St. James's, 1814.—First Proof, title-page.]