But
alas! the knights are still to the fore,
And plenty of geese, whose haunches
Were lean as a lathe when they entered the land,
Now go with their jolly round paunches.
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note.
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10
Pale
as pictures of Faith, Hope, Charity,
Were the dogs when they settled down here;
But since then they have tippled their noses red
On the goodly wine of our town here.
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11
And
freedom has sprained her ankle bone,
And alas! the revel tarries,
And sadly the tricolor of France
Looks down from the towers of Paris.
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12
The
Emperor rose from the dead, 'tis true,
But the English worms had made him
A peaceful and a quiet man,
And again in the tomb they laid him.
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13
I
saw the procession, the gilded car;—
Amid the crowd stood staring;—
Saw the golden goddess of Victory
The golden coffin bearing.
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text .
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14
Up
the Champs Elysees, over the snow,
Where the heavy mists hung blinding,
On through the Arc de Triomphe proud
The solemn train came winding.
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15
The
musicians' fingers were stiff with cold
And the music suffered badly;
The eagles on their standards seemed
To nod me a greeting sadly.
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The
people looked like so many ghosts,
Lost in their memories hoary;
Again they dreamed the magic dream
Of world-imperial glory.
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text .
17
I
wept that day. I wept when I heard,
From the heart of a loving nation,
The '"Vive l'Empereur!" ring out, as of old,
In deathless adoration.
