. Czar.--The treaty of Tilsit
was agreed to between Bonaparte and the Czar Alexander on the river Memel.
Leipsic.--Napoleon was defeated by the allied forces, in October, 1813, at
this city.

Palm, a German publisher, shot, in 1806, by order of Napoleon, for
publishing a pamphlet against him. De Stael (pro. De Stal), a celebrated
French authoress, banished from Paris, in 1802, by Napoleon. Kotzebue, an
eminent German dramatist. David, the leading historical painter of his
times in France. De Lille, an eminent French poet and professor.

XXIX. NAPOLEON AT REST. (146)

John Pierpont, 1785-1866, was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, and
graduated from Yale College in 1804. The next four years he spent as a
private tutor in the family of Col. William Allston, of South Carolina. On
his return, he studied law in the law school of his native town. He
entered upon practice, but soon left the law for mercantile pursuits, in
which he was unsuccessful. Having studied theology at Cambridge, in 1819
he was ordained pastor of the Hollis Street Unitarian Church, in Boston,
where he continued nearly twenty years. He afterwards preached four years
for a church in Troy, New York, and then removed to Medford,
Massachusetts. At the age of seventy-six, he became chaplain of a
Massachusetts regiment; but, on account of infirmity, war soon obliged to
give up the position. Mr. Pierpont published a series of school readers,
which enjoyed a well-deserved popularity for many years.

His poetry is smooth, musical, and vigorous. Most of his pieces were
written for special occasions.
###

His falchion flashed along the Nile;
His hosts he led through Alpine snows;
O'er Moscow's towers, that blazed the while,
His eagle flag unrolled,--and froze.
Here sleeps he now, alone! Not one
Of all the kings, whose crowns he gave,
Bends o'er his dust;--nor wife nor son
Has ever seen or sought his grave.

Behind this seagirt rock! the star,
That led him on from crown to crown,
Has sunk; and nations from afar
Gazed as it faded and went down.
High is his couch;--the ocean flood,
Far, far below, by storms is curled;
As round him heaved, while high he stood,
A stormy and unstable world.

Alone he sleeps! The mountain cloud,
That night hangs round him, and the breath
Of morning scatters, is the shroud
That wraps the conqueror's clay in death.
Pause here! The far-off world, at last,
Breathes free; the hand that shook its thron