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TO FLUSH, MY DOG.
Said yea i' the people's French! he magnified
The image of the freedom he denied.
The image of the freedom he denied.
And if they asked for rights, he made reply,
"Ye have my glory!"—and so, drawing round them
His ample purple, glorified and hound them
In an embrace that seemed identity.
He ruled them like a tyrant—true! but none
Were ruled like slaves! Each felt Napoleon!
"Ye have my glory!"—and so, drawing round them
His ample purple, glorified and hound them
In an embrace that seemed identity.
He ruled them like a tyrant—true! but none
Were ruled like slaves! Each felt Napoleon!
I do not praise this man: the man was flawed,
For Adam—much more, Christ!—his knee, unbent—
His hand, unclean—his aspiration, pent
Within a sword-sweep—pshaw!—but since he had
The genius to be loved, why, let him have
The justice to be honoured in his grave.
For Adam—much more, Christ!—his knee, unbent—
His hand, unclean—his aspiration, pent
Within a sword-sweep—pshaw!—but since he had
The genius to be loved, why, let him have
The justice to be honoured in his grave.
I think this nation's tears, poured thus together,
Nobler than shouts! I think this funeral
Grander than crownings, though a Pope bless all:
I think this grave stronger than thrones! But whether
The crowned Napoleon or the buried clay
Be better, I discern not—Angels may.
Nobler than shouts! I think this funeral
Grander than crownings, though a Pope bless all:
I think this grave stronger than thrones! But whether
The crowned Napoleon or the buried clay
Be better, I discern not—Angels may.
To Flush, my Dog.
Loving friend, the gift of one,
Who, her own true faith, hath run,
Through thy lower nature;[1]
Be my benediction said
With my hand upon thy head,
Gentle fellow-creature!
Who, her own true faith, hath run,
Through thy lower nature;[1]
Be my benediction said
With my hand upon thy head,
Gentle fellow-creature!
- ↑ This dog was the gift of my dear and admired friend, Miss Mitford, and belongs to the beautiful race she has rendered celebrated among English and American readers. The Flushes have their laurels as well as the Cæsars,—the chief difference (at least the very head and front of it) consisting, according to my perception, in the bald head.
