THIRD MESSENGER.

COLLOT D'HERBOIS.

To principles, not persons, spurn the idol The tyrants threaten us, as when they turn'd They worshipp'd once. Yes, Robespierre shall fall The cannon's mouth on Brissot.

As Capet fell! Oh! never let us deem

That France shall crouch beneath a tyrant's throne,
Enter another MESSENGER.

That the almighty people who have broke
SECOND MESSENGER.

On their oppressors' heads the oppressive chain, Vivier harangues the Jacobins—the club

Will court again their fetters! easier were it Espouse the cause of Robespierre.

To hurl the cloud-capt mountain from its base,

Than force the bonds of slavery upon men
Enter another MESSENGER.
Determined to be free!

[Applauses. All's lost—the tyrant triumphs. Henriot leads

Enter LEGENDRE, a pistol in one hand, keys in the The soldiers to his aid. -Already I hear

other. The rattling cannon destined to surround This sacred hall.

LEGENDRE (flinging down the keys).

Somlet the mutinous Jacobins meet now
TALLIEN
Why, we will die like men then;

In the open air.
The representatives of France dare death,

(Loud applauks When duty steels their bosoms.

A factious turbulent party [Loud applauses. Lording it o'er the state since Danton died.

And with him the Cordeliers.—A hireling band
TALLIEN (addressing the galleries).

Of loud-tongued orators controll'd the club,
Citizens !

And bade them bow the knee to Robespierre. France is insulted in her delegates

Vivier has 'scaped me. Curse his coward heartThe majesty of the republic is insulted

This fate-fraught tube of Justice in my hand, Tyrants are up in arms. An armed force

I rush'd into the hall. He mark'd mine eye Threats the Convention. The Convention swears

That beam'd its patriot anger, and flash'd full To die, or save the country!

With death-denouncing meaning. 'Mid the throng [Violent applauses from the galleries. Ile mingled. I pursued--but staid my hand, CITIZEN (from above).

Lest haply I might shed the innocent blood.
We too swear

[Applauses. To die, or save the country. Follow me.

FRÉRON.
[All the men quit the galleries. They took from me my ticket of admission-

Expell’d me from their sittings.--Now, forsooth,
Enter another MESSENGER.

Humbled and trembling re-insert my name;
FOURTU MESSENGER.

But Fréron enters not the club again
Henriot is taken

Till it be purged of guilt-till, purified

(Loud applauses. Of tyrants and of traitors, honest men Henriot is taken. Three of your brave soldiers May breathe the air in safety. Swore they would seize the rebel slave of tyrants,

[Shouts from without Or perish in the attempt. As he patrollid

BARRERE The streets of Paris, stirring up the mob,

What means this uproar? if the tyrant band They seized him.

Should gain the people once again to rise

[Applauses. We are as dead ! BILLAUD VARENNES.

Let the names of these brave men Live to the future day,

And wherefore fear we death?

Did Brutus fear it? or the Grecian friends
Enter BOURDON L'OISE, sword in hand.

Who buried in Hipparchus' breast the sword,

And died triumphant? Cæsar should fear death : BOURDON L'OISE.

Brutus must scorn the bugbear. I have clear'd the Commune.

Shouts from without. Live the Convention-Down [Applauses.

with the Tyrants! Through the throng I rush'd, Brandishing my good sword to drench its blade

TALLIEN. Deep in the tyrant's heart. The timid rebels

Hark! again
Gave way. I met the soldiery-I spake

The sounds of honest Freedom!
Of the dictator's crimes--of patriots chain'd
In dark deep dungeons by his lawless rage-

Enter DEPUTIES from the SECTIONS.
Of knaves secure beneath his fostering power.
I spake of Liberty. Their honest hearts

Citizens! representatives of France ! Caught the warm flame. The general shoutburst forth, hold on your steady course. The men of Paris “Live the Convention-Down with Robespierre!" Espouse your cause. The men of Paris swear

[Applauses. They will defend the delegates of Freedom. [Shouts from without—Down with the Tyrant !

TALLIEN.

Hear ye this, Colleagues ? hear ye this, my brethren! I hear, I hear the soul-inspiring sounds,

And does no thrill of joy pervade your breasts ? France shall be saved! her generous sons, attached My bosom bounds to rapture. I have seen

TALLIEN

CITIZEN

TALLIEN

BARRERE.

LECOINTRE.

The sons of France shake off the tyrant yoke ;

BARRERE (mounts the Tribune). I have, as much as lies in mine own arm,

For ever hallow'd be this glorious day, Hurl'd down the usurper.—Come death when it will, When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, I have lived long enough.

Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant, [Shouts without. Hurlid from his blood-cemented throne by the arm

Of the almighty people, meets the death Hark! how the noise increases! through the gloom He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart Of the still evening-harbinger of death,

Has sunk within me, when the various woes Rings the tocsin! the dreadful generale

Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain Thunders through Paris

In ghastly numbers—when assembled hordes, [Cry without—Down wilh the Tyrant! Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power,

Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, Enter LECOINTRE.

And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with

blood So may eternal justice blast the foes

The reeking fields of Flanders. When within, Of France! so perish all the tyrant brood, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth As Robespierre has perish'd! Citizens,

Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Cesar is taken.

Trampling on freedom, left the alternative (Loud and repeated applauses. Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, I marvel not, that with such fearless front,

When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced
He braved our vengeance, and with angry eye The doom of injured France, has Faction rear'd
Scould round the hall defiance. He relied

Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd
On Henriot's aid—the Commune's villain friendship, of mercy--the uxorious dotard Roland,
And Henriot's boughten succors. Ye have heard

The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire
How Henriot rescued him-how with open arms To govem France; and Petion talk'd of virtue,
The Commune welco med in the rebel tyrant And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honey'd tongue
How Fleuriot aided, and seditious Vivier

Of some soti Syren, wooed us to destruction. Sturr'd up the Jacobins. All had been lost

We triumph'd over these. On the same scaffold The representatives of France had perishd

Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Freedom had sunk beneath the tyrant arm

Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, Of this foul parricide, but that her spirit

And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, Inspired the men of Paris. Henriot callid

And Hebert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand " To arms” in vain, whilst Bourdon's patriot voice Hurlid down the altars of the living God, Breathed eloquence, and o'er the Jacobins

With all the infidel's intolerance. Legendre frown'd dismay. The tyrants fled The last worst traitor triumph’d-triumph'd long, They reach'd the Hotel. We gather'd round-we Secured by matchless villany. By turns callid

Defending and deserting each accomplice, For vengeance! Long time, obstinate in despair, As interest prompted. In the goodly soil With knives they hack'd around them. Till foreboding of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck The sentence of the law, the clamorous cry Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death Of joyful thousands hailing their destruction, On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. Each sought by suicide to escape the dread

He wove the web of treachery. He caught Of death. Lebas succeeded. From the window

The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, Leapt the younger Robespierre, but his fractured limb His cool ferocity, that persuaded murder, Forbade to escape. The self-willid dictator

Even whilst it spake of mercy !-Never, never Plunged often the keen knife in his dark breast,

Shall this regenerated country wear Yet impolent to die. He lives all mangled

The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, By his own tremulous hand! All gash'd and gored, And with worse fury urge this new crusade He lives to taste the bitterness of Death.

Than savages have known; though the leagued Even now they meet their doom. The bloody Couthon,

despots The fierce St-Just, even now attend their tyrant Depopulate all Europe, so to pour To fall beneath the ax. I saw the torches

The accumulated mass upon our coasts, * Flash on their visages a dreadful light

Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, I saw them whilst the black blood roll'd adown And like the rock amid surrounding waves Each stern face, even then with dauntless eye

Repel the rushing ocean.-She shall wield Scowl round contemptuous, dying as they lived,

The thunderbolt of vengeance—she shall blast Fearless of fate!

The despot's pride, and liberate the world! [Loud and repeated applauses.

221

Miscellaneous Poems.

PROSE IN RHYME: OR EPIGRAMS, MORALITIES, AND THINGS WITHOUT A NAME.

But springtide blossoms on thy lips,
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
Life is but thought: so think I will
That youth and I are house-mates still.

What outward form and feature are

He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair

He seeth with the heart.

A DAY DREAM.

LINES SUGGESTED BY THE LAST WORDS

OF BERENGARIUS.
My eyes make pictures, when they are shut:
I see a fountain, large and fair,

OB. ANNO DOM. 1088.
A willow and a ruin'd hut,

No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope, And thee, and me, and Mary there. Soon shall I now before my God appear, O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!

By him to be acquitted, as I hope ;
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow! By him to be condemned, as I fear,
A wild-rose roofs the ruin'd shed,

REFLECTIONS ON THE ABOVE
And that and summer well agree:

Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed,
And lo! where Mary leans her head,

Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said. Two dear names carved upon the tree! I see a hope spring from that humble fear, And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow : All are not strong alike through storms to steer Our sister and our friend will both be here to-morrow. Right onward. What though dread of threaten'd

death 'T was day! But now few, large, and bright, And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath

The stars are round the crescent moon! Inconstant to the truth within thy heart ? And now it is a dark warm night,

That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice The balmiest of the month of June !

didst start, A glow-worm fallen, and on the marge remounting Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, Shines, and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet Or not so vital as to claim thy life: fountain.

And myriads had reach'd Heaven, who never knew

Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true! O ever-ever be thou blest! For dearly, Asra! love I thee!

Ye who, secure 'mid trophies not your own, This brooding warmth across my breast, Judge him who won them when he stood alone,

This depth of tranquil bliss—ah me! And proudly talk of recreant BERENGARE, Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither, O first the age, and then the man compare! But in one quiet room we three are still together. That age how dark! congenial minds how rare!

No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn! The shadows dance upon the wall,

No throbbing hearts awaited his return! By the still dancing fire-flames made; Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell, And now they slumber, moveless all!

He only disenchanted from the spell, And now they melt to one deep shade! Like the weak worm that gems the starless night, But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee: Moved in the scanty circlet of his light: I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel And was it strange if he withdrew the ray thee!

That did but guide the night-birds to their prey? Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play The ascending Day-star with a bolder eye "Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!

Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn! But let me check this tender lay,

Yet not for this, if wise, will we decry Which none may hear but she and thou! The spots and struggles of the timid Daws! Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming, Lest so we tempt th' approaching Noon to scom Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women! The mists and painted vapors of our Morn.

TO A LADY,

THE DEVIL'S THOUGHTS. OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN From his brimstone bed at break of day HAVE NO SOULS.

A-walking the DEVIL is gone,

To visit his little snug farm of the earth,
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave ?

And see how his stock went on.
I said, you had no soul, 't is true!
For what you are you cannot have:

Over the hill and over the dale,
"Tis I, that have one since I first had you! And he went over the plain,

And backwards and forwards he swish'd his long tail

As a gentleman swishes his cane.
I HAVE heard of reasons manifold

And how then was the Devil drest?
Why Love must needs be blind,

Oh! he was in his Sunday's best :
But this the best of all I hold

His jacket was red and his breeches were blue. His eyes are in his mind.

And there was a hole where the tail came through.