But oh! my lovely France! I grieve,
To leave thee so undone.

My towering aim, to see thy fame
O'er all beneath the sky--
So much--at last--is now achieved,
And, half content, I die.

The woes my foes decree me here,
Ne'er wake my faintest sigh--
But when I view my country's woes,
Not yet I wish to die.

But lo! the Future opens now,
Before my glazing eyes,
And shapes of new and coming things,
Before my vision rise.

I see the Bourbon hurled at last,
From France's tottering throne,
A proud Napoleon reigning there,
France, smiling, points her own!'

Earth yet adores my mighty name--
And, late, laments my doom,
Nor longer wrongs the gliding ghost
That loathes its island tomb.

Long--long through age succeeding age,
Napoleon doth awake