Rush forth thro' all its doors. I am the last Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver The keys. Oct. (with deep anguish). my house too is desolate. O Countess ! Coun. Who next is to be murder'd? Who is next To be maltreated? Lo! the Duke is dead. The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified ! The Emp'ror is appeas'd; the heavy fault Her motherly arms! Therefore no farther fears! To the Imperial grace! Coun. (with her eye rais'd to heaven). To the grace and mercy of a greater Master This sure may well be granted us-one sepulchre Oct. Countess, you tremble, you turn pale! Coun. (reassembles all her powers, and speaks with energy and dignity). More worthily of me, than to believe You think I would survive the downfall of my house. Coun. Nay, it is too late, [Exit Countess. In a few moments is my fate accomplish'd. Gor. O house of death and horrors ! [An officer enters, and brings a letter with the great seal. Gor. (steps forward and meets him). What is this? It is the Imperial seal. [He reads the address and delivers the letter to Octavio with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the word. To the Prince Piccolomini. Oct. (with his whole frame expressive of sudden anguish, raises his eyes to heaven. The Curtain drops. THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE; An Historte Drama. DEDICATION. TO H. MARTIN, ESQ. OF JESUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. DEAR SIR, ACCEPT, as a small testimony of my grateful attachment, the following Dramatic Poem, in which I have endeavoured to detail, in an interesting form, the fall of a man, whose great bad actions have cast a disastrous lustre on his name. In the execution of the work, as intricacy of plot could not have been attempted without a gross violation of recent facts, it has been my sole aim to imitate the impassioned and highly figurative language of the French Orators, and to develop the characters of the chief actors on a vast stage of horrors. Yours fraternally, JESUS COLLEGE, September 22, 1794, S. T. COLERIDGE. THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE. ACT I. SCENE, The Tuilleries. Barrere. The tempest gathers-be it mine to seek A friendly shelter, ere it bursts upon him. But where? and how? I fear the Tyrant's soul— Sudden in action, fertile in resource, And rising awful 'mid impending ruins ; In splendour gloomy, as the midnight meteor, Enter TALLIEN and LEGENDdre. [Exit. Tal. It was Barrere, Legendre! didst thou mark him? Abrupt he turn'd, yet linger'd as he went, And towards us cast a look of doubtful meaning. Leg. I mark'd him well. I met his eye's last glance, It menaced not so proudly as of yore. Methought he would have spoke-but that he dared not Such agitation darken'd on his brow. Tal. 'Twas all-distrusting guilt that kept from bursting Th' imprison'd secret struggling in the face: Leg. Perfidious Traitor !—still afraid to bask Tal. Yet much depends upon him—well you know With truth-mix'd falsehood. They, led on by him —we must gain him over: by dark hints We'll show enough to rouse his watchful fears, Till the cold coward blaze a patriot. O Danton! murder'd friend! assist my counsels Beholds the Tyrant living-we are dead! Tal. Yet his keen eye that flashes mighty mean ings Leg. Fear not-or rather fear th' alternative, And seek for courage e'en in cowardice,——— |