To Napoleon

The heroes of the present and the past
  Were puny, vague, and nothingness to thee:
Thou didst a span grasp mighty to the last,
  And strain for glory when thy die was cast.
That little island, on the Atlantic sea,
  Was but a dust-spot in a lake: thy mind
Swept space as shoreless as eternity.
  Thy giant powers outstript this gaudy age
Of heroes; and, as looking at the sun,
  So gazing on thy greatness, made men blind
To merits, that had adoration won
  In olden times. The world was on thy page
  Of victories but a comma. Fame could find
  No parallel, thy greatness to presage.