To Napoleon

The heroes of the present and the past Were puny, vague, and nothingness to thee: Thou didst a span grasp mighty to the last, And strain for glory when thy die was cast. That little island, on the Atlantic sea, Was but a dust-spot in a lake: thy mind Swept space as shoreless as eternity. Thy giant powers outstript this gaudy age Of heroes; and, as looking at the sun, So gazing on thy greatness, made men blind To merits, that had adoration won In olden times. The world was on thy page Of victories but a comma. Fame could find No parallel, thy greatness to presage.