Literary Remains | Page 6

a cottag'd vale she dwells, List'ning to the Sabbath bells! Still around her steps are seen Spotless honour's meeker mien, Love, the sire of pleasing fears, Sorrow smiling through her tears, And conscious of the past employ, Memory, bosom-spring of joy.
TALLIEN. I thank thee, Adelaide! 'twas sweet, though mournful. But why thy brow o'ercast, thy cheek so wan? Thou look'st as a lorn maid beside some stream, That sighs away the soul in fond despairing, While sorrow sad, like the dank willow near her, Hangs o'er the troubled fountain of her eye.
ADELAIDE. Ah! rather let me ask what mystery lowers On Tallien's darken'd brow. Thou dost me wrong-- Thy soul distemper'd, can my heart be tranquil?
TALLIEN. Tell me, by whom thy brother's blood was spilt? Asks he not vengeance on these patriot murderers? It has been borne too tamely. Fears and curses Groan on our midnight beds, and e'en our dreams Threaten the assassin hand of Robespierre. He dies!--nor has the plot escaped his fears.
ADELAIDE. Yet--yet--be cautious! much I fear the Commune-- The tyrant's creatures, and their fate with his Fast link'd in close indissoluble union. The pale Convention--
TALLIEN. Hate him as they fear him, Impatient of the chain, resolved and ready.
ADELAIDE. Th' enthusiast mob, confusion's lawless sons--
TALLIEN. They are aweary of his stern morality, The fair-mask'd offspring of ferocious pride. The Sections too support the delegates: All--all is ours! e'en now the vital air Of Liberty, condens'd awhile, is bursting (Force irresistible!) from its compressure-- To shatter the arch chemist in the explosion!
[Enter BILLAUD VARENNES and BOURDON L'OISE.]
[Adelaide retires.]
BOURDON L'OISE. Tallien! was this a time for amorous conference? Henriot, the tyrant's most devoted creature, Marshals the force of Paris: The fierce club, With Vivier at their head, in loud acclaim Have sworn to make the guillotine in blood Float on the scaffold.--But who comes here?
[Enter BARRERE abruptly.]
BARRERE. Say, are ye friends to freedom? I am hers! Let us, forgetful of all common feuds, Rally around her shrine! E'en now the tyrant Concerts a plan of instant massacre!
BILLAUD VARENNES. Away to the Convention! with that voice So oft the herald of glad victory, Rouse their fallen spirits, thunder in their ears The names of tyrant, plunderer, assassin! The violent workings of my soul within Anticipate the monster's blood!
[Cry from the street of --No tyrant! Down with the tyrant!]
TALLIEN. Hear ye that outcry?--If the trembling members Even for a moment hold his fate suspended, I swear by the holy poniard, that stabbed Caesar, This dagger probes his heart!
[Exeunt omnes.]

ACT II.
SCENE--The Convention.
[ROBESPIERRE mounts the Tribune.]
ROBESPIERRE. Once more befits it that the voice of truth, Fearless in innocence, though leaguer'd round By envy and her hateful brood of hell, Be heard amid this hall; once more befits The patriot, whose prophetic eye so oft Has pierc'd thro' faction's veil, to flash on crimes Of deadliest import. Mouldering in the grave Sleeps Capet's caitiff corse; my daring hand Levell'd to earth his blood-cemented throne, My voice declared his guilt, and stirr'd up France To call for vengeance. I too dug the grave Where sleep the Girondists, detested band! Long with the show of freedom they abused Her ardent sons. Long time the well-turn'd phrase, The high fraught sentence, and the lofty tone Of declamation thunder'd in this hall, Till reason, midst a labyrinth of words, Perplex'd, in silence seem'd to yield assent. I durst oppose. Soul of my honour'd friend, Spirit of Marat, upon thee I call-- Thou know'st me faithful, know'st with what warm zeal I urged the cause of justice, stripp'd the mask From faction's deadly visage, and destroy'd Her traitor brood. Whose patriot arm hurl'd down Hebert and Rousin, and the villain friends Of Danton, foul apostate! those, who long Mask'd treason's form in liberty's fair garb, Long deluged France with blood, and durst defy Omnipotence! but I, it seems, am false! I am a traitor too! I--Robespierre! I--at whose name the dastard despot brood Look pale with fear, and call on saints to help them Who dares accuse me? who shall dare belie My spotless name? Speak, ye accomplice band, Of what am I accused? of what strange crime Is Maximilian Robespierre accused, That through this hall the buzz of discontent Should murmur? who shall speak?
BILLAUD VARENNES. O patriot tongue, Belying the foul heart! Who was it urged Friendly to tyrants that accurst decree, Whose influence brooding o'er this hallow'd hall, Has chill'd each tongue to silence. Who destroy'd The freedom of debate, and carried through The fatal law, that doom'd the delegates, Unheard before their equals, to the bar Where cruelty sat throned, and murder reign'd With her Dumas coequal? Say--thou man Of mighty eloquence, whose law was that?
COUTHON. That law was mine. I urged it--I proposed-- The voice of France assembled in her sons Assented, though the tame