Delightful image of my much loved boy!
Behold his eyes, his looks, his cherub smile!
No more, alas! will he enkindle joy,
Nor on some kindlier shore my woes beguile.
My son! my darling son! wert thou but here,
My bosom should receive thy lovely form:
Thou'dst soothe my gloomy hours with converse dear:
Serenely mild behold the lowering storm.
I'd be the partner of thy infant cares,
And pour instruction o'er thy expanding mind;
Whilst in thy heart, in my declining years,
My wearied soul should an asylum find.
My wrongs--my cares--should be forgot with thee,
My power--imperial dignities--renown--
This rock itself would be a heaven to me;
Thine arms more cherished than the victor's crown.
O! in thine arms, my son! I could forget that fame
Shall give me, through all time, a never dying name.
(Signed.) NAPOLEON.