Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

13 articles on this Page

RDE TO THE REVOLUTIONISTS…

News
Cite
Share

RDE TO THE REVOLUTIONISTS OF PARIS 0'1 THE FIRST ANNIVUtSARY OF THE RED REPUBLIC, FEBRUARY 21. f This is the day, and this the happy mom," When French exorcists, from proloundest hell, In bli)od-re(I resurrection, as new born, By cursed incantations, and the speil Of Freedom's blasphemed name, restored the dead Spirit of War, long laid in its own Dead Sea red That saw one city's anarchs, felons, fools, And madmen, to their motley banner, gather Outlaws from caverns, schoolboys from their schools, To curse all Europe's cities saw its father, King, like a felon, chased by felons, fly: Saw-throned on stones and mudcarts overturned, Th' Elect of-Childhood, Folly, Felony, Stand (like Rome's monarch while Rome's glories burned) Making sweet music for the long-eared nation, Agape for praise, a glozing tongue his lyre, Tinkling above Man's inner world on fire, Their" most sweet voices" braying through the moral conflagration .Giver of Life! is then that gift of gifts, Bv thee so wisely guarded, nothing worth, That any vain thing whom war's whirlwind 1ifts- (Ev'n Civil war's, the opprobrium of Earth) Above the helmsman's head, may seize the helm, The Commonwealth's vast ship let ocean whelm, While its pale crew, of thirty millions, roll Their eyes on one weak man, to his rash hand, As if their own were palsied — to his soul As if themselves were soulless—yield command O'er—more than their base spirits, more than France, Great God! o'er whole Earth's thousand millions yield Entrust the fates of iiatioiis-that vast field Of Life's long battle, Europe, to the chance Of his vain mood! a dreamer of romance, Ambition-mad, beside Earth's fickle queen, Fortune enthroned, the sword to draw or sheathe Will war or peace lord judge o'er life and death Great Lamartine & absolute King Mob o'er Lamartine You-Iiatriots who have made your vine-clad land In spite of Spring's sweet painting, God's own smile Iliumining—like a black scaffold stand, Startling the nations-all but one green Isle — Sages retreading after sixty years' Lost labour, the old path of blood and tears- YOll who have raised, as by art magical, (Though impotent to bless, to curse, potential) That death stage never taken down, where Error Enacts successive farces tragical, fetes, regicides. Mob reigns, and reigns of terror" Have made whole France as one great pestilential City, in all but grass—dead bell and red-cross door— By Wealth and Worth abandoned to the poor And worthless-desolated your own city, As if the great Black Deatti" dicelt there you civilized banditti. Who keep the whole world watching lest ye rob Men of their lives, while shouting Rights of Ilan Yourselves perpetual slaves —great feudal clan, Now to one tyrant, now the tyrant 1ob;- Paving stone heroes! thunderbolts of war, To kings of your rebellious blood? and lives Too sparing-valiant against pregnant wives Flying for life!*—but to Conscription's Minotaur, To kings blood-drunken-to the Corsican Whosto single glory was the shame of Man, So meek so loval! th' annual tribute brought Of your own young, to feed the maw of War, So patiently no car of Juggernaut, )lore dutifully drawn than red Napoleon's, No Moloch better served with hecatombs of sons! Reformers after Catiline's own heart, Who, fierce as he with fouler horrors sup," Your bond of human blood, not by one cup Cemented, but ten thousand your brave part Espoused by every foe of God and Man, Murder behind, Rebellion in the van,— Servants of hell, well done hail Heroes, Sages, Patriots! — if frcm their white thrones bending down, On you, oh Sovereign Mob Heaven's Martyrs frown, To you the malefactors of ail ages Upturn their bloodshot eyes (black audience fit" And multitudinous) from the infernal Pit! Fools! for the names of things, the things themselves foregoing Ingrates Heaven's blessed work of thirty years undoing, Thrones raised by Man's Good Angel, Peace, in wanton- ness o'erthrowing Th' erratic comet that rained blood with all your eyes pursuing. (That earthly blood-red star miscalled of Honour's meteor glory, The fatal will-o'-wisp of Revolution's road to ruin), Monsters another storm of blood for Europe brewing Oh nation of the bloody hand stand, ghostly, ghastly, gory, Europe's eternal warning 'gainst blood-drunkenness to all The nations of the world ev'n like the drunken slaves of yore, Your grinning misery present, all Europe's youth before, That many a land (like this) may stand, by thy terrific fall Builth. D.

[No title]

[No title]

[No title]

HOUSE OF LORDS.—THURSDAY,…

HODSE OF COMMONS.—THURSDAY,…

[No title]

FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE. I

[No title]

LONDON MARKETS, MONDAY, FEB.…

WEEKLY CALENDAR.

LONDON GAZETTE.

Advertising