I
Till thus speaks France: "Much grief it gives us that, being pledged to treat, one Emperor with one King,
II
"You yet have struck a jarring counternote and tone that keys not with such promising.
I
"In these last word, then, of this pregnant parle; I trust I may persuade your Excellency
II
"That in no circ.u.mstance, on no pretence, a party to our pact can Russia be."
SPIRIT SINISTER
Fortunately for the manufacture of corpses by machinery Napoleon sticks to this veto, and so wards off the awkward catastrophe of a general peace descending upon Europe. Now England.
RUMOURS [continuing]
I
Thereon speeds down through Kent and Picardy, evenly as some southing sky-bird"s shade:
II
"We gather not from your Imperial lines a reason why our words should be reweighed.
I
"We hold Russia not as our ally that is to be: she stands fully- plighted so;
II
"Thus trembles peace upon this balance-point: will you that Russia be let in or no?"
I
Then France rolls out rough words across the strait: "To treat with you confederate with the Tsar,
II
"Presumes us sunk in sloughs of shamefulness from which we yet stand gloriously afar!
I
"The English army must be Flanders-fed, and entering Picardy with pompous prance,
II
"To warrant such! Enough. Our comfort is, the crime of further strife lies not with France."
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
Alas! what prayer will save the struggling lands, Whose lives are ninepins to these bowling hands?
CHORUS OF RUMOURS
France secretly with--Russia plights her troth!
Britain, that lonely isle, is slurred by both.
SPIRIT SINISTER
It is as neat as an uncovered check at chess! You may now mark Fox"s blank countenance at finding himself thus rewarded for the good turn done to Bonaparte, and at the extraordinary conduct of his chilly friend the Muscovite.
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
His hand so trembles it can scarce retain The quill wherewith he lets Lord Yarmouth know Reserve is no more needed!
SPIRIT IRONIC
Now enters another character of this remarkable little piece--Lord Lauderdale--and again the messengers fly!
SPIRIT OF THE PITIES
But what strange figure, pale and noiseless, comes, By us perceived, unrecognized by those, Into the very closet and retreat Of England"s Minister?
SPIRIT OF THE YEARS
The Tipstaff he Of the Will, the Many-masked, my good friend Death.-- The statesman"s feeble form you may perceive Now hustled into the Invisible, And the unfinished game of Dynasties Left to proceed without him!