From the side-pocket of his vest a pinch the despot
took,
Yet not a whit did he relax the sternness of his look:
"Thou thoughtst the lion was afar, but he hath burst the
chain—
The watchword for to-night is France—the answer St
Heléne.
"And didst thou deem the barren isle, or ocean waves,
could bind
The master of the universe—the monarch of mankind?
I tell thee, fool! the world itself is all too small for me;
I laugh to scorn thy bolts and bars—I burst them, and
am free.
"Thou thinkst that England hates me! Mark!—This
very night my name
Was thundered in its capital with tumult and acclaim!
They saw me, knew me, owned my power—Proud lord!
I say, beware!
There be men within the Surrey side, who know to do
and dare!
"To-morrow in thy very teeth my standard will I rear—
Ay, well that ashen cheek of thine may blanch and shrink
with fear!
To-morrow night another town shall sink in ghastly
flames;
And as I crossed the Borodin, so shall I cross the
Thames!
"Thou'lt seize me, wilt thou, ere the dawn? Weak
lordling, do thy worst!
These hands ere now have broke thy chains, thy fetters
they have burst.
Yet, wouldst thou know my resting-place? Behold, 'tis
written there!
And let thy coward myrmidons approach me if they dare!"
Another pinch, another stride—he passes through the
door—
"Was it a phantom or a man was standing on the floor?
And could that be the Emperor that moved before my eyes?
Ah, yes! too sure it was himself, for here the paper lies!"
With, trembling hands Lord Castlereagh undid the mystic
scroll,
With glassy eye essayed to read, for fear was on his soul—
"What's here?—'At Astley's, every night, the play of
Moscow's Fall!
Napoleon, for the thousandth time, by Mr Gomersal!'"
