cheaply, rather EPITAPHIUM TESTAMENTARIUM Τὸ τοῦ ̓ΕΣΤΗΣΕ τοῦ ἐπιθανούς Epitaphium testamentarium αὐτόγραφον. Than forfeit that blest name, by which I Quæ linquam, aut nihil, aut nihili, aut vix sunt mea. Sordes call Is that a death-bed where a Christian Mercy for praise-to be forgiven for fame He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same! lies? Yes! but not his 'tis Death itself there Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet -hunting Tallien? Him, whose heart flutters at the dicebox? Him, Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers! St. Just. I cannot fear him-yet we must not scorn him. Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70 The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The thick black sediment of all the factions It needs no magic hand to stir it up! Couthon. O we did wrong to spare them-fatal error ! Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died? And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes? I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured To make of Lyons one vast human shambles, Compared with which the sun-scorcht wilderness Of Zara, were a smiling paradise. 80 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'lt guard thy country's freedom To despotize in all the patriot's pomp. While Conscience, 'mid the mob's applauding clamours, Sleeps in thine ear, nor whispers-bloodstain'd tyrant! Yet what is Conscience? Superstition's dream, Making such deep impression on Our sleep That long th' awaken'd breast retains its horrors! 130 Full firmly shines amid the groaning But he returns-and with him comes 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 ! 110 Robespierre Junior. Beware! already do the sections murmurO the great glorious patriot, Robespierre The tyrant guardian of the country's freedom!' Couthon. 'Twere folly sure to work Robespierre. I see the villain in him! And Poverty sublime 'mid circling virtues ! The giant Victories my counsels form'd Shall stalk around me with sun-glittering Barrere. [Exit COUTHON. Th' Adonis Tallien? banquet - hunting Tallien? Him, whose heart flutters at the dicebox? Him, Who ever on the harlots' downy pillow Resigns his head impure to feverish slumbers! St. Just. I cannot fear him-yet we must not scorn him. Was it not Antony that conquer'd Brutus, Th' Adonis, banquet-hunting Antony? 70 The state is not yet purified: and though The stream runs clear, yet at the bottom lies The thick black sediment of all the factions It needs no magic hand to stir it up! Couthon. O we did wrong to spare them-fatal error ! Why lived Legendre, when that Danton died? And Collot d'Herbois dangerous in crimes? I've fear'd him, since his iron heart endured To make of Lyons one vast human shambles, Compared with which the sun-scorcht The fervent eloquence of Vergniaud's The dire upboilings of the storm within |