that St Helena's Isle had rendered up its charge,
That France was bristling high in arms--the Emperor at large.

'Twas midnight! all the lamps were dim, and dull as death the street,
It might be that the watchman slept that night upon his beat,
When lo! a heavy foot was heard to creak upon the stair,
The door revolved upon its hinge--Great Heaven!--What enters there?

A little man, of stately mien, with slow and solemn stride;
His hands are crossed upon his back, his coat is opened wide;
And on his vest of green he wears an eagle and a star,--
Saint George! protect us! 'tis THE MAN,--the thunder-bolt of war!

Is that the famous hat that waved along Marengo's ridge?
Are these the spurs of Austerlitz--the boots of Lodi's bridge?
Leads he the conscript swarm again from France's hornet hive?
What seeks the fell usurper here, in Britain, and alive?

Pale grew the Lord of Castlereagh, his tongue was parched and dry,
As in his brain he felt the glare of that tremendous eye;
What wonder if he shrank in fear, for who could meet the glance
Of him who rear'd, 'mid Russian snows, the gonfalon of France?

From the side-pocket of his vest a pinch the despot took,
Yet not a whit did he relax the sternness of his look:
"Thou thoughtst the lion was afar, but he hath burst the chain--
The watchword for to-night is France--the answer St Helene.

"And didst thou deem the barren isle, or ocean waves, could bind
The master of the universe--the monarch of mankind?
I tell thee, fool! the world itself is all too small for me;
I laugh to scorn thy bolts and bars--I burst them, and am free.

"Thou thinkst that England hates me! Mark!--This very night my name
Was thundered in its capital with tumult and acclaim!
They saw me, knew me, owned my power--Proud lord! I say, beware!
There be men within the Surrey side, who know to do and dare!

"To-morrow in thy very teeth my standard will I rear--
Ay, well that ashen cheek of thine may blanch and shrink with fear!
To-morrow night another town shall sink in ghastly flames;
And as I crossed the Borodin, so shall I cross the Thames!

"Thou'lt seize me, wilt thou, ere the dawn? Weak lordling, do thy worst!
These hands ere now have broke thy chains, thy fetters they have burst.
Yet, wouldst thou know my resting-place? Behold, 'tis written there!
And let thy coward myrmidons approach me if they dare!"

Another pinch, another stride--he passes through the door--
"Was it a phantom or a man was st