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; I have, as much as lies in mine own arm, Hurl'd down the usurper.-Come death when it will, I have lived long enough. [Shouts without.
Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom Of the still evening-harbinger of death
Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale
Thunders through Paris
[Cry without-Down with the tyrant !
So may eternal justice blast the foes
Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood,
As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens,
[Loud and repeated Applauses.
I 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 succours. Ye have heard How Henriot rescued him-how with open arms The Commune welcomed in the rebel tyrant- How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier Stirr'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 Breathed 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
Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window Leap'd the younger Robespierre; but his fractur'd limb Forbade to escape. The self-will'd dictator
Plung'd 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 axe. I saw the torches Flash on their visages a dreadful light-
I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived, Fearless of fate! [Loud and repeated Applauses.
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 blood
The reeking fields of Flanders.-When within, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Trampling on freedom, left the alternative Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced The doom of injured France, has faction rear'd Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd Of mercy-the uxorious, dotard Roland, The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue, And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honey'd tongue Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction. We triumph'd over these. On the same scaffold Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, And Hebert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, With all the infidel's intolerance.
The last worst traitor triumph'd-triumph❜d long, Secured by matchless villany. By turns Defending and deserting each accomplice As interest prompted. In the goodly soil Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. He wove the web of treachery. He caught The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, His cool ferocity that persuaded murder, Even whilst it spake of mercy!-never, never Shall this regenerated country wear
The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, And with worse fury urge this new crusade
Than savages have known; though the leagued despots Depopulate all Europe, so to pour
The accumulated mass upon our coasts, Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, And like the rock amid surrounding waves Repel the rushing ocean.-She shall wield The thunder-bolt of vengeance-she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world!
JULIA was blest with beauty, wit, and grace: Small poets loved to sing her blooming face. Before her altars, lo! a numerous train Preferr'd their vows; yet all preferr'd in vain : Till charming Florio, born to conquer, came, And touch'd the fair one with an equal flame. The flame she felt, and ill could she conceal What every look and action would reveal. With boldness then, which seldom fails to move, He pleads the cause of marriage and of love; The course of hymeneal joys he rounds,
The fair one's eyes dance pleasure at the sounds. Nought now remain'd but " Noes"-how little meant— And the sweet coyness that endears consent. The youth upon his knees enraptur'd fell:— The strange misfortune, oh! what words can tell? Tell! ye neglected sylphs! who lap-dogs guard, Why snatch'd ye not away your precious ward? Why suffer'd ye the lover's weight to fall On the ill-fated neck of much-loved Ball? The favourite on his mistress cast his eyes, Gives a short melancholy howl, and—dies! Sacred his ashes lie, and long his rest! Anger and grief divide poor Julia's breast.
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