Classic Poem

BY OTWAY CURRY .

One hope in all this weary life,
One living, only joy, was mine;
With thee above its stormy strife
To rise, and reign, and shine —
To bless thee when thy kingly name
Was blended with undying fame.

But now alike in ruin lie
Thy crowns, and thy imperial throne;
And thou hast journeyed far on high,
Into that world unknown,
Which lies beyond those orbs of light
That greet us in the lonely night.

And I, alas! when thou art gone,
With the sweet music of thy voice,
I weep, and there remaineth none
To bid my heart rejoice:
Oh, for that music's matchless power,
To soothe me in this gloomy hour.

I feel the heavy hand of fate
Impel me to the eternal shore —
I fear the grave, so desolate
And dark, that lies before:
Oh! whisper me where thou art gone,
And cheer my drooping spirit on.

Ev'n now I meet thy flashing eye!
I feel its spirit-thrilling glance.
Oh! let me hear thy battle-cry,
My brother, " Charge for France! "
Alas for thee, Napoleon!
Alas for France when thou art gone.