The Abbess of Royal-Lieu fell a victim to the revolutionary madness. She and her numerous sisterhood were led to the scaffold on the same day. On their way from the prison to the guillotine, they all chanted the Veni Creator. Their arrival at the place of execution did not interrupt their strains; one head fell, and ceased to join its voice with the celestial chorus—but the song continued. The Abbess suffered last; and her single voice still raised the devout versicle. It ceased at once—and the silence of death ensued.—Madame Campan's Memoirs.
i.Dark clouds are hurrying through the sky,'Tis autumn's fitful eve;And the dying breeze is murmuring by,With a sound that makes one grieve;A stifling heat is in the air;Like the sultry breath of a lion's lair;And unseen fingers weaveA giant shade of shadows dun,Around the broad red sinking sun!
ii.Bursting with wrath, yon angry cloudSeems to pause in its mid career,As the striving steps of the crushing crowdTo one gory spot draw near:—What mean their yells of horrid glee?Those tossing heads, like a stormy sea,Clenched hands and brows severe?Whence come that savage, tiger brood,To glut their demon lust for blood?
iii.What, sateless still! must still the streamFrom noble hearts be poured,Will Pity never shed its gleamOn that remorseless horde?Must still some guiltless victim bleed,And "Freedom" sanctify a deedTo latest times abhorred?O, Liberty! our pride,—our shame,What scenes are acted in thy name![1]
iv.But hark what thrilling sounds ariseFrom yon slow-moving throng;Floating like incense to the skiesIn one rich tide of song!And see, where opening to their treadThose threatening forms give back, and ledBy faith serene, yet strong,A patient band, with tireless breath,Prolong that prelude note of death!
v.Theirs is no hope forlorn,—they wendExulting on their way;Reckless how soon their course must end,Their life-blood ebb away.They seem to share one thought, one breathAnd marshalled thus by faith to death,In beautiful array,Those martyr-sisters glide along,Breathing their parting prayers in song!
vi.No fears have they;—the savage crowdMay scowl on them in vain;Their step is firm, their bearing proud,Unfailing still their strain!They view the reeking scaffold nigh,With dauntless heart, untroubled eye,Their blood so soon must stain,—Lift up their vesper-hymn on high,Swan-like, resolved to sing and die!
vii.See how she bends her to the block,The foremost of that guiltless throng,And sings, till 'neath the headsman's stroke,Is stayed at once her breath and song!Yet still the angelic strain peals onMore thrilling sweet; till, one by one,Is hushed each tuneful tongue;And to that sainted band 'tis given,To join seraphic choirs in heaven!
↑"O, Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name!" was the apostrophe of Madame Boland to the statue of Liberty, as she passed it on her way to the guillotine.
