Long Roll at Napoleon's Tomb by Thomas Nelson Page

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'Twas the marble crypt where the Emperor lay, / His mighty marshals on either side, / Guarding his couch since the solemn day / France brought him home in her chastened pride, / To sleep on her heart, from the sea-girt cage / Where the Eagle pined and died in his rage.

I thought of the long, red carnival / Death held in the track of his sword, amain, / From Toulon's bloom to the crimsoned pall / He spread upon Waterloo's ripened grain; / I thought of the long black years of dread / When the nations quaked at his armies' tread.

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