The Duke monologue — L'Aiglon

Then I, who have no power, no throne, no title, I, who am but a memory in a phantom, That Duke of Reichstadt who with helpless grief Can only wander under Austrian trees, Carving an N upon their mossy trunks, Wayfarer, only noticed when I cough; Who have no longer even the little piece Of watered silk so scarlet in my cradle; I, on whose woes they vainly lavish stars, Who only wear two crosses, not the One! I, exiled, prisoner, sick, who may not ride Along the front of pompous regiments Scattering stars among my heroes; yet I hope--I think--the son of such a father-- Into whose hands a firmament was given-- I think, in spite of shadows and dead days, A little of the star clings to my fingers:-- John Seraph Peter Flambeau, I adorn you!