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Show FRANCE 1792; Gallant and gay an'd young was ho; Sweet as the 'Queen's own lilies, she; j Prince and Princess of high degree. These two mot on the marble stair That led to the Salles des Petes, and there She caught a rose from her powdered hair. Careless of courtiers' frowns' "and quips Held it against her lovely Hps A moment's space, as the wild' bee sips! A moment's apace, and the crowd closed in, Throb of flute and- the violin Blent with the merry' dancers' din. On the az.uro riband that crossed his breast, Jewel-splendid and lace caressed, He set the flower her lips had prossed. Life, to them, was a garden spot, A song, a troad in the grand gavotte, Treason and Time, to them, wore not. Dawn crept Into the sullen sky; Throb of flute and the viol's sigh Died in a madder, fiercer cry; Roar of rabble, and clang of bell, Ribald jest and a mocking yell, Sounds of shame, and the sights of Hell. The stops are steep to the guillotine; The red blood oozes out between! Who goes up with brow serene? A Prlnee as proud as a Prince may be, And a fair little Princess of high degree; White as the Queen's own lilies, she. Riband and lace have rent and stain! Wail, O winds, in pitying pain! Weep, sad clouds, but ye weep in vain! Life was a laugh, a dancer's pace! Death Is weary, and sad of face! God in his goodness grant them grace! Maribah P. Abbott, in Appleton's Magazine. |