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collot D'HERbois. The tyrants threaten us, as when they turn'd The cannon's mouth on Brissot.
Enter another MEssenger.
second MEssenger. Vivier harangues the Jacobins—the club Espouse the cause of Robespierre.
Enter another MEssenger.
"third Messenger. All's lost—the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads The soldiers to his aid. Already I hear The rattling cannon destined to surround This sacred hall.
TAL Lie N. Why, we will die like men then; The representatives of France dare death, When duty steels their bosoms. [Loud applauses.
TALLIEN (addressing the galleries). Citizens! France is insulted in her delegates— The majesty of the republic is insulted— Tyrants are up in arms. An armed force Threats the Convention. The Convention swears To die, or save the country! [Violent applauses from the galleries.
citizen (from above). We too swear To die, or save the country. Follow me. [All the men quit the galleries.
Enter another MEssenger.
Fourtti MESSENGER. Henriot is taken!— [Loud applauses. Henriot is taken. Three of your brave soldiers Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants, Or perish in the attempt. As he patroll'd The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob, They seized him. [Applauses. Billaud WARENNFS. Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day.
Enter BourdoN L'Oise, sword in hand.
BourdoN L'oise. I have clear'd the Commune. [Applauses. Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels Gave way. I met the soldiery—I spake Of the dictator's crimes—of patriots chain'd In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage— Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power. I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts Caught the warm flame. The general shoutburst forth, “Live the Convention—Down with Robespierre." [Applauses. [Shouts from without—Down with the Tyrant? tallien. I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds, France shall be saved' her generous sons, attached
To principles, not persons, spurn the idol
Enter LEGENDRE, a pistol in one hand, keys in the - other.
LEGENDRE (flinging down the keys). So–let the mutinous Jacobins meet now
In the open air.
BARRERE. What means this uproar! is the tyrant band Should gain the people once again to rise— We are as dead :
TALLIEN. And wherefore fear we death? Did Brutus fear it 2 or the Grecian friends Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword, And died triumphant? Caesar should fear death: Brutus must scorn the bugbear. Shouts from without. Live the Convention–Down with the Tyrants! TALLIEN. Hark! again The sounds of honest Freedom!
Enter DEPUTIEs from the Sections.
TALLIEN. Hear ye this, Colleagues? hear ye this, my brethren? And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts? My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen
The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke;
Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom
[Cry without—Down with the Tyrant!
So may eternal justice blast the foes
Cesar is taken. [Loud and repeated applauses. 1 marvel not, that with such fearless front, He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye Scowl'd round the hall defiance. He relied On Henriot's aid—the Commune's villain friendship, And Henriot's boughten succors. Ye have heard How Henriot rescued him—how with open arms The Commune welcomed in the rebel tyrant— How Fleurot aided, and seditious Vivier Surr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost— The representatives of France had perish’d— Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit Inspired the men of Paris. Henriot call'd "To arms" in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice Beathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled— They reach'd the Hotel. We gather'd round—we call’d For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, With knives they hack'd around them. Till foreboding The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction, Each sought by suicide to escape the dread 0 death. Lebas succeeded. From the window Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractured limb Fortade to escape. The self-will'd dictator Plunged often the keen knife in his dark breast, Yet impotent to die. He lives all mangled By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored, He lives to taste the bitterness of Death. Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon, The fierce St-Just, even now attend their tyrant To fall beneath the ax. I saw the torches olish on their visages a dreadful light— low them whilst the black blood roll'd adown *ch stern face, even then with dauntless eye $owl round contemptuous, dying as they lived, Fearless of fate:
BARRERE (mounts the Tribune). For ever hallow'd be this glorious day, When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant, Hurl’d from his blood-cemented throne by the arm Of the almighty people, meets the death He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart Has sunk within me, when the various woes Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain In ghastly numbers—when assembled hordes, Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power, Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with
[Loud and repeated applauses.
Unch ANGED within to see all changed without,
PhantOM OR FACT? A DIALOGUE in VERSE.
Author. A Lovely form there sate beside my bed, And such a feeding calm its presence shed, A tender love so pure from earthly leaven That I unnethe the fancy might control, Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven Wooing its gentle way into my soul! out ah! the change—It had not stirr'd, and yet— Alas! that change how sain would I forget: That shrinking back, like one that had mistook! That weary, wandering, disavowing Look! Twas all another, feature, look, and frame, And still, methought, I knew it was the same!
- FRIEND. This fiddling tale, to what does it belong **history? vision? or an idle song?
Or rather say at once, within what space
Author. Call it a moment's work (and such it seems), This tale's a fragment from the life of dreams; But say, that years matured the silent strife, And 'tis a record from the dream of Life.
WORK WITHOUT HOPE. LiNEs composed 21st FEBRUARY, 1827.
ALL Nature seems at work. Stags leave their lair—
Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
YOUTH AND AGE.
VERSE, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
This drooping gait, this alter'd size:
But springtide blossoms on thy lips,
A DAY DREAM.
My eyes make pictures, when they are shut — I see a fountain, large and fair, A willow and a ruin'd hut, And thee, and me, and Mary there. O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow! Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!
A wild-rose roofs the ruin'd shed, And that and summer well agree: And lo! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow: Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow.
"Twas day! But now sew, large, and bright, The stars are round the crescent moon! And now it is a dark warm night, The balmiest of the month of June ! A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.
O ever—ever be thou blest : For dearly, Asra! love I thee! This brooding warmth across my breast, This depth of tranquil bliss—ah me! Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither, But in one quiet room we three are still together.
The shadows dance upon the wall, By the still dancing fire-flames made; And now they slumber, moveless all! And now they melt to one deep shade! But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!"
Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play— "Tis Mary's hand upon my brow! Butlet me check this tender lay, Which none may hear but she and thou! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women!
TO A LADY,
of FENDED BY A sportive observation that Women HAVE No souls.
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave?
For what you are you cannot have:
I have heard of reasons manifold Why Love must needs be blind, But this the best of all I hold–
His eyes are in his mind.
What outward form and feature are
But what within is good and fair
LINES SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS
REFLECtions on The Above.
Lynx amid moles' had I stood by thy bed,
didst start, Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, Or not so vital as to claim thy life: And myriads had reach'd Heaven, who never knew Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true!
Ye who, secure 'mid trophies not your own,
The ascending Day-star with a bolder eye
The DEVIL’S THOUGHTS.
From his brimstone bed at break of day A-walking the Devil is gone,
To visit his little snug farm of the earth, And see how his stock went on.
Over the hill and over the dale,
And backwards and forwards he swish'd his long to
And how then was the Devil drest?