Classic Poem

WRITTEN ON THE ISLAND OF ELBA .

1

The heart that feels as I have felt,
When forced from kindred hearts to sever,
The idol-home where youth has dwelt,
To leave — and leave, perchance, forever;
Although no sigh may tell its wo,
Will throb with sorrow's deepest throe.

2

A father's burning hand I wrung;
I kiss'd a mother's pallid cheek;
But not a word escaped my tongue —
I felt too much — too much to speak!
That parting hour, that sad adieu,
Worlds would not tempt me to renew.

9

I've left my land — I've left thy grave;
All that I love in life or death:
Why am I o'er the heaving wave?
What seek I here? — Fame's fleeting breath?
Oh! what is glory but a name!
This Isle might teach how poor is Fame —

10

The prison-isle of him whose glance
Sent awe throughout the world around;
Who o'er the brow of fallen France
A sun-bright wreath of glory bound,
A coronal of crowns — each gem
Some conquer'd nation's diadem!

11

Come hither, peasant! tell me, where
Is he who dwelt in yonder vale?
" Signor, I neither know nor care;
" He came — he's gone: though short the tale,
" 'Tis all I have to tell " — — He came —
He's gone! oh yes! this, this is Fame!