THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE.
9
A coward! 'Tis congenial souls alone
Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate.
O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye
Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle—
Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity
Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest!
There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrow
Shall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!
Shed tears of sorrow for each other's fate.
O thou art brave, my brother! and thine eye
Full firmly shines amid the groaning battle—
Yet in thine heart the woman-form of pity
Asserts too large a share, an ill-timed guest!
There is unsoundness in the state—To-morrow
Shall see it cleans'd by wholesome massacre!
Robespierre, Junior.
Beware! already do the sections murmur—
"O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre—
"The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!"
Beware! already do the sections murmur—
"O the great glorious patriot, Robespierre—
"The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!"
Couthon.
Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!
Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart
Of cold Barrere!
Twere folly sure to work great deeds by halves!
Much I suspect the darksome fickle heart
Of cold Barrere!
Robespierre.
I see the villain in him!
I see the villain in him!
Robespierre, Junior.
If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?
If he—if all forsake thee—what remains?
Robespierre.
Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul
And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues!
The giant Victories, my counsels form'd,
Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes,
Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.
(Exeunt cæteri. Manet Couthon.)
Myself! the steel-strong Rectitude of soul
And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues!
The giant Victories, my counsels form'd,
Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering plumes,
Bidding the darts of calumny fall pointless.
(Exeunt cæteri. Manet Couthon.)
Couthon solus.
So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues
Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!
Still, Robespierre! thou'l't guard thy country's freedom
So we deceive ourselves! What goodly virtues
Bloom on the poisonous branches of ambition!
Still, Robespierre! thou'l't guard thy country's freedom
