Napoleon

Then we may thank ourselves, Who spell-bound by the magic name of Peace Dream golden dreams. Go, warlike Britain, go, For the grey olive-branch change thy green laurels: Hang up thy rusty helmet, that the bee May have a hive, or spider find a loom! Instead of doubling drum and thrilling fife Be lull'd in lady's lap with amorous flutes: But for Napoleon, know, he'll scorn this calm: The ruddy planet at his birth bore sway, Sanguine adust his humour, and wild fire His ruling element. Rage, revenge, and cunning Make up the temper of this Captain's valour.

Adapted from an old Play.

First published in The Friend, 1818, ii. 115. In later editions the word 'Adapted' was omitted. First collected in 1893.

J. D. Campbell (P. W., 1893, p. 473) suggests that the 'calm' was, probably, the 'Peace of Amiens'.