On a Portrait of Napoleon I by David

A meteor-man of destiny,Who trod,Through others' weakness, up the paths of strength,Uncumbered and unshodOf charity,Till in the skyHe flamed, at length,A mid-day sun,A people's god—Napoleon.

His courtiers shoneLike bees upon his mantle strewn;And yet his fateLeft him with rent robes, desolate.How less than little was he on his throne!How little also in his fallen days!Whose harp can praiseNapoleon?