Bonaparte's Farewell.
Farewell to the land, where the gloom of my glory
Arose and o'ershaded the earth with her name,
She abandons me now, but the page of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame
I have warred with a world which vanquish'd me only,
when the meteor of conquest allur'd me too far,
I have coped with the nations which dread me thu lonely,
the last single captive to millions in war!
Farewell to thee France—when thy diadem crown'd me,
I made thee the glory and pride of the earth;
Bat thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee,
decayed in thy glory and sunk in thy worth.
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted
in strife with the storm when their battles were won.
Then the eagle whose gaze in that moment was blasted,
had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun.
Farewell to thee France--but then liberty rallies
