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    Louis Napoleon

    by Oscar Wilde
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    Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
    When far away upon a barbarous strand,
    In fight unequal, by an obscure hand,
    Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!

    Poor boy! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red,
    Or ride in state through Paris in the van
    Of thy returning legions, but instead
    Thy mother France, free and republican,

    Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place
    The better laurels of a soldier's crown,
    That not dishonoured should thy soul go down
    To tell the mighty Sire of thy race

    That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty,
    And found it sweeter than his honied bees,
    And that the giant wave Democracy
    Breaks on the shores where Kings lay couched at ease.
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