Poems (Hooper)/Madame La Duchesse
MADAME LA DUCHESSE.
Through the merry streets of Paris I behold the tumbril roll;
While I follow it exulting, loud I chant the Carmagnole.
You are standing there, proud woman, though your gaze sinks not beneath,
Where I follow, follow singing, as you journey to your death.
While I follow it exulting, loud I chant the Carmagnole.
You are standing there, proud woman, though your gaze sinks not beneath,
Where I follow, follow singing, as you journey to your death.
On your cheek there are no patches, there's no powder on your curls,
For your white neck waits a necklace colder far than chain of pearls;
But your calm face keeps its beauty, and your form its haughty mien:
You will look, methinks, less stately when you see the guillotine.
For your white neck waits a necklace colder far than chain of pearls;
But your calm face keeps its beauty, and your form its haughty mien:
You will look, methinks, less stately when you see the guillotine.
You were once a noble duchess, and your humble lackey I—
Now I think it will amuse me just to see how you will die:
Once I stood behind your carriage as it rolled in state along—
Now again your coach I follow, but I come with dance and song.
Now I think it will amuse me just to see how you will die:
Once I stood behind your carriage as it rolled in state along—
Now again your coach I follow, but I come with dance and song.
And I loved you, loved you, madam-—you, the haughty and the fair:
I have knelt to kiss the traces of your foot upon the stair:
I have stood beneath your casement in the watches of the night,
Praying just to see your shadow pass between me and the light.
I have knelt to kiss the traces of your foot upon the stair:
I have stood beneath your casement in the watches of the night,
Praying just to see your shadow pass between me and the light.
Once I caught a knot of ribbon that fell loosened from your hair:
To the madness of my loving 'twas a treasure past compare;
For the powder from your tresses marred its splendor and its hue,
And I kissed it oft and wildly, for its perfume spoke of you.
To the madness of my loving 'twas a treasure past compare;
For the powder from your tresses marred its splendor and its hue,
And I kissed it oft and wildly, for its perfume spoke of you.
But one day I brought a letter from some hero of the State—
You were jesting with a princess, but you bade me come and wait:
In your bath you sat reclining, and my dull gaze could behold
Swanlike throat and snowy shoulder, and your arms of perfect mould.
You were jesting with a princess, but you bade me come and wait:
In your bath you sat reclining, and my dull gaze could behold
Swanlike throat and snowy shoulder, and your arms of perfect mould.
And the princess bent toward you, saying softly, "Friend, beware!
You forget, while you are reading, that yon man still lingers there."
Never once you looked toward me: you disdained my face to scan,
While your words came slow and scornful, 'Do you call that thing a man?"
You forget, while you are reading, that yon man still lingers there."
Never once you looked toward me: you disdained my face to scan,
While your words came slow and scornful, 'Do you call that thing a man?"
I was once a man to love you—I am now a fiend to hate:
Mine the eyes that watched your hiding—mine the words that sealed your fate;
And you know that your betrayer was your liv'ried slave of yore:
I have won your hate and horror—you'll despise me nevermore.
Mine the eyes that watched your hiding—mine the words that sealed your fate;
And you know that your betrayer was your liv'ried slave of yore:
I have won your hate and horror—you'll despise me nevermore.
Lips that once disdained the breezes that were giv'n for common breath!
Will you lose your scornful smiling 'neath the frozen kiss of Death?
From the red heights of the scaffold, as my face and form you scan,
Think you then, Madame la Duchesse, you may call this Thing a Man?
Will you lose your scornful smiling 'neath the frozen kiss of Death?
From the red heights of the scaffold, as my face and form you scan,
Think you then, Madame la Duchesse, you may call this Thing a Man?