Classic Poem

OF NAPOLEON CROSSING THE ALPS .

U NCONSCIOUS of the dreary wastes around,
 Of sleet that pierces with each fitful blast,
The icy peaks, the rough and treacherous ground,
 Huge snow-drifts by the whirlwind's breath amassed,
Through which the jaded mule with noiseless tread,
 Patient and slow, a certain foothold seeks,
By the old peasant-guide so meekly led;
 Moves the wan conqueror, with sunken cheeks,
O'er heights as cold and lonely as his soul,—
 The chill lips blandly set, and the dark eyes
Intent with fierce ambition's vast control,
 Sad, keen, and thoughtful of the distant prize;
With the imperial robes and warlike steed,
That face ne'er wore such blended might and need!