Grave of Bonaparte.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co. 227 Washington St., Boston,
owners of the copyright.
On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billow,
Assail the stern rock and the loud tempests rave,
The hero lies still, while the dew drooping willow,
Like fond weeping mourners lean’d over the grave;
The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle,
He heeds not, he hears not, he’s free from all pain,
He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle,
No sound can awake him to glory again,