Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/73

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LOUIS NAPOLEON.
59

Louis Napoleon.

Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings  When far away upon a barbarous strand,  In fight unequal, by an obscure hand, Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!
Poor boy! thou wilt not flaunt thy cloak of red,  Nor ride in state through Paris in the van  Of thy returning legions, but instead Thy mother France, free and republican,
Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place  The better laurels of a soldier's crown,  That not dishonored should thy soul go down To tell the mighty Sire of thy race
That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty,  And found it sweeter than his honeyed bees,  And that the giant wave Democracy Breaks on the shores where Kings lay crouched at ease.
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