II.

Bursting with wrath, yon angry cloud

Seems to pause in its mid career,
As the striving steps of the crushing crowd

To 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 stream

From noble hearts be poured,
Will Pity never shed its gleam

On that remorseless horde ?
Must still some guiltless victim bleed,
And“ Freedom” sanctify a deed

To latest times abhorred ?
0, Liberty! our pride,-our shame,
What scenes are acted in thy name! *

•“0, Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name!” was the apostrophe of Madame Roland to the statue of Liberty, as she passed it on her way to the guillotine.

IV.

But hark what thrilling sounds arise

From yon slow-moving throng; Floating like incense to the skies

In one rich tide of song!
And see, where opening to their tread
Those threatening forms give back, and led

By faith serene, yet strong,
A patient band, with tireless breath,
Prolong that prelude note of death!

v.

Theirs is no hope folorn,—they wend

Exulting on their way;
Reckless how soon their course must end,

Their life-blood ebb away.
They seem to share one thought, one breath,
And marshalled thus by faith to death,

In beautiful array,
Those martyr-sisters glide along,
Breathing their parting prayers in song!

No fears have they ;—the savage crowd

May 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 on
More thrilling sweet; till, one by one,

Is hushed each tuneful tongue;
And to that sainted band 't is given,
To join seraphic choirs in heaven!

Pubsted by lotpra. Reey Orre rown & Creen Nov 17.30