“ Is beauty? Thine has with thy youth departed, But the love-legends of thy manhood’s years, And she who perished, young and broken-hearted, Are—but I rhyme for smiles and not tears. The monarch mind—the mystery of commanding, The god-like power, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding The hearts of millions till they move as one; Thou hast it. At thy bidding men have crowded The road to death as to a festival ”

“ Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong As earth’s first kings—the Argo’s gallant sailors Heroes in history, and gods in song. Is eloquence? Her spell is thine that reaches The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport ”